crazy dog
@advyeji
She sits in the park, crosslegged. It’s still early, and she can’t practice without other people around if monitor how she’s doing, so this okay, she tells herself. Nothing too big - just experimenting how much control she has over the area her aura has an effect on, the intensity of it. Joy spreads it out as far as she can, watching the people around her.
A few of the elderly exercising by the benches frown when that happens almost immediately, and she thinks she sees someone try to subtly step on someone else’s foot in that little party. She has to suppress a laugh; this is only practice, she reminds herself. She’s not here to play.
She closes her eyes, focusing on feeling out the perimeter of her aura. It’s gotten clearer, no longer a fuzzy sort-of-feeling, it’s graduated to a more condensed sense. Joy recognises the way her aura feels now, after having experienced life without it. Her aura stops a little ways after the large oak tree and the rose bushes, and there are only maybe fifteen, twenty people within this area.
Joy starts to draw it in, reels it towards her, envisioning the coppery tinge shrinking as she concentrates. She wants it to stop just before the signpost, a mere three metres radius. It shouldn’t intensify, at least not like this, not intentionally. She succeeds in lessening her area of effect, watching a pair of sisters make up easily as she releases her hold on them. Joy nods to herself, pleased. The reddish brown layer settle over her mind’s eye, darker than it had been when she’d stretched herself thin.
Frowning, she works to lighten it, trying to make it the same shade as her initial attempt. The more she fails, the more frustrated she gets, colouring it even darker and Joy panics. Her control is slipping away again and she forcibly pushes the bloodlust down, draws it all back in before it gets out of hand. She counts to ten before the tension dissipates and she thinks she could try it again.
She holds her presence steady, bloodlust tight in her chest as she inches it slowly towards the signpost. Her eyes are closed again, and she’s blind to the world except for the anger she can sense and her bloodlust. She looks for all the world like an innocent bystander (if a bit sleepy), she hopes.









