starbound - scomiche

007. training

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According to Kirstin, letting most of his powers remain dormant for almost 8 cycles was a huge waste of everyone's time, and he had a lot of catching up to do if he wanted a chance at defeating Scott.

There were quite a few misconceptions he had about his powers, and Kirstin was more than willing to start correcting them. Apparently his powers were not in his brain, like he thought. That itch in his brain had absolutely nothing to do with actually channeling energy, and she had no idea what it was, because she'd never experienced anything like it before. It was worrisome, but he shoved it to the back-burner -- there were more important tasks at hand.

His biggest misconception was that his power was telekinesis, only telekinesis, and would only ever be telekinesis. She laughed the instant he told her so; with enough practice, he could create illusions, forcefields, mental shields... He was more than excited to learn.

She decided he should start with a basic forcefield, because Mitch had a natural tendency to get himself into sticky situations, and it could very well save his life. So that's how they found themselves sitting cross legged across from each other on the floor of the ship, Kirstin patiently tutoring him, and Mitch hopelessly trying to imitate her odd hand positions.

He was fucking terrible at it.

"Imagine you're channeling your energy," she said patiently, adjusting Mitch's tattooed hands to the right position. "Your energy cycles through your body and out your hands. Try to feel it."

He's been at it for an entire hour, and the only thing he could even begin create was a weak foot long barrier that lasted for less than a second. His hands were cramping, he was getting frustrated, and he was somehow taking steps back in his progress. The learning curve was bullshit, because if he had one, it was an absolutely negative slope, or not a slope at all.

"This is ridiculous," he pouted, squinting in concentration at his stupidly inflexible hands that would not do whatever Kirstin's were doing. "I'm not getting anywhere!"

"You are," she promised for the seven hundredth time, but even he could hear the impatience in her voice.

"Bull-shit," he snapped crankily, and twisted his hand in apparently the right way, because he felt a very wide force field erupt from his hands. "Finally!"

She was not impressed. In fact, she was so unimpressed, that she smacked his hand down to the floor, completely dispersing his well-earned forcefield. "Do not use your powers when you're angry," she scolded, again, and her glare was burning so hot that he was sure it could melt a hole through his skull.

He sighed in defeat and shook the pain out of his hand. He knew well enough that he shouldn't use them when angry -- his mother has been telling him since he was a teenager, and for good reason. "I'm sorry," he groaned, slumping his shoulders in defeat. "I can't help it." He was just an angry person, okay? A childhood of constant bullying and isolation would do that to a person.

She sighed tiredly, and held her hand up in the same exact position she's been holding it in for an hour. "I know. Come on, let's try again."

He groaned and started to bring his cramped hands up again, when he was cut off by an extremely loud and disturbing growl from his stomach. He winced and wrapped his arms around his midsection -- how long has it been since they took off from Earth? He was starving, and exhausted. He needed a nap, and a cheeseburger, and definitely some painkillers.