When I sat down to work on this piece of fiction, I knew I wanted to detail the relationship between Ramas and his messenger. However, I remembered detailing a conversation between these two with Sight. While I didn’t exhaust their relationship, it didn’t feel right rehashing the previous tale. After a little thought, I leaned into my personal experience as a lifeguard. Thankfully, I never had to save anyone, but the training prepared me for the potential of dealing with serious injury. Despite never having to use those skills, the memories are etched into my memory.
With those skills fixed in my mind, my lips twisted as I realized how to use them to tell another micro-tale with these two characters. It also provided me with a chance to delve into more of Ramas’s skills, especially for those paying attention.
Come, sit down and allow me to give you a mini-escape and kindle your imagination.
The glowing sphere brushed aside the bough and Ramas stepped up to the riverbank as the swirling green spots dimmed across the river. He slammed the staff into the earth, and the dirt swelled under his feet. Ramas lifted his hands and the patch of ground ripped free and flinging him across the water.
When he reached the far side, Ramas’s grasp tightened around the rod as he jumped off the crumbling palanquin. He dashed to the mound of motes and grabbed the man’s shirt. With a curse, he pulled the man up and traced the wound. As the crimson substance flowed, Ramas’s fingers slid up to the fellow’s neck. After a few seconds, he sighed as blood pumped past his fingertips.
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