tomber dans la pommes
May 29, 2012 2:21:24 GMT -5
Post by Lysander Allington on May 29, 2012 2:21:24 GMT -5
Lysander remembered being taught the subtleties of grammar from an early age. With a linguist as a father, you really didn't get through life without picking up at least something about conjugations or universal grammar.
He continued to draw a sketch on the board, his marker lifting only to write a few characters in his elegant, yet swift, handwriting. The task didn't require too much attention, and so he couldn't help but think about his own experience in these rooms, being drilled in various foreign languages before he finally figured out how to control his own mouth.
People didn't quite understand the way his power worked. You'd think that language could be easily handled - but in reality, Lysander's power rested in his ability to sense meaning and intention. German sounded the same as Italian, and somehow they both didn't sound too different from Chinese. Understanding was his nature, and the challenge had been in developing his awareness.
With most subconscious powers, he felt that this was the crux of the issue. As he drew the gentle oscillations of Alpha, Beta and Theta waves on the board, he thought about the heavy-handed treatment he'd received from a woman who had sprouted angelic wings as her own meta-human ability. Her own power had such powerful roots in the physical world that she couldn't quite relate to his struggle; she asked him to flap his wings, when he needed to be taught that he had wings in the first place.
Lysander hoped that Parry's ability would be the same. If he taught her enough neuroscience, she should be able to figure out the foundation of her power. If she understood the theory, then figuring out how to master her abilities should follow naturally, right?
Satisfied with his work at the board, Lysander straightened his tie, a classic black that stood out against the bright white of his shirt. He'd gone for the black-tie affair look today, and he was rather successful about the endeavor. His hazel eyes rested in the general direction of the doorway, patiently waiting for his trainee to arrive.
He continued to draw a sketch on the board, his marker lifting only to write a few characters in his elegant, yet swift, handwriting. The task didn't require too much attention, and so he couldn't help but think about his own experience in these rooms, being drilled in various foreign languages before he finally figured out how to control his own mouth.
People didn't quite understand the way his power worked. You'd think that language could be easily handled - but in reality, Lysander's power rested in his ability to sense meaning and intention. German sounded the same as Italian, and somehow they both didn't sound too different from Chinese. Understanding was his nature, and the challenge had been in developing his awareness.
With most subconscious powers, he felt that this was the crux of the issue. As he drew the gentle oscillations of Alpha, Beta and Theta waves on the board, he thought about the heavy-handed treatment he'd received from a woman who had sprouted angelic wings as her own meta-human ability. Her own power had such powerful roots in the physical world that she couldn't quite relate to his struggle; she asked him to flap his wings, when he needed to be taught that he had wings in the first place.
Lysander hoped that Parry's ability would be the same. If he taught her enough neuroscience, she should be able to figure out the foundation of her power. If she understood the theory, then figuring out how to master her abilities should follow naturally, right?
Satisfied with his work at the board, Lysander straightened his tie, a classic black that stood out against the bright white of his shirt. He'd gone for the black-tie affair look today, and he was rather successful about the endeavor. His hazel eyes rested in the general direction of the doorway, patiently waiting for his trainee to arrive.
