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Pixie stix make me hyper

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Pixie stix make me hyper

Your name: Sirmatt

Why you want him:
I am particuarly drawn to this cat, as he is grey and my spirit animal is a grey housecat. I used to do RPs on gaia before, and mostly used it while me and Punkysissy were dating. I am very very rusty at the general "flow" of gaia, but want to do colaborative writing again, as it was a whooooole lot of fun. New ideas = more awesome!

Prompt #1:

Birman breathed in. Birman breathed out.

Sitting cross-legged in the lotus position, the grey maned cat was on the third day of his five day retreat. He tried to keep his mind from falling into deep sleep, as this would break his 5 day long vigil. His consciousness rocked back and forth between acute awareness and concentration on particular thoughts.

Steadily, he let his thoughts float across the awareness that he had built up. Like staring up lazily at birds in the sky, he distanced himself from the thoughts as if they were not even his own. He continued to breathe. He began to retrace the first three days of the vigil.

For the past 3 days he had been sitting alone in the forest under a tree hanging with fruit. The first day he fought his stomach. It would growl and moan like a dog locked in a kennel. It hurt.

The second day, his hunger was overtaken by the heat of the afternoon sun. He breathed in and out, his concentration stretched as the humidity bled through his robes and steamed his fur. Birman’s mind was almost overcome when he could begin to pinpoint each hair in his fur coat as they began to curl, sending tickles, itching, and aggravation shooting up to the calmness he was trying to create. The night of the second day, his vigil was eased as the clouds covered the sky, and the chilly night air mixed with the burning humidity. It was much easier to concentrate.

The third day was the strangest. The morning sun burned all the steam off the earth, but was quickly enclosed in clouds. The air was mild, and Birman felt his meditation take stride. He batted away all distraction and felt the flow of the universe, the prana, as it was breathed in and out. The more he breathed the more he remembered of his life in the monastery. The old man who called him “Mao”, a name which seemed dreamlike now.

In the afternoon of the third day, the sun briefly peeked from behind the clouds. Golden rays shone down all around him. With his eyes closed, he could see the scene in front of him – the light slicing through the trees, the bird’s wings catching the air, the dust rising from the earth each time it was hit by the golden lady –

Birman’s eyes flew open.

Golden lady?

His heart began to race as he looked around. The bodhisattva that had sent him on his quest – it was as if she had disappeared. His mind reeled, suddenly aware of every conflicting thought that would have assaulted him all this time. “Was she really there?” – “Am I hallucinating?” The air around him suddenly seemed heavier, as if he had been dropped into the deep end of the pool.

He struggled for breath.

At dusk on the third day, Birman heard singing.

It was a familiar melody.

As he stared into the red-black of the forest as the sun set, fear began to grow – deep in his gut. He saw the fear and immediately began to push it down as he focused on his breath. The more he pushed against the fear of the music drifting liltingly through the branches, the more it demanded release and logical deniability.

Suddenly, he was standing. His consciousness reeled. This wasn’t right. He was in lotus just a minute ago! Or was he? Was it more than a minute? An hour? A day? How many days had he been here?

All these questions wrapped his soul as tightly as his under-robes gripped. The questions themselves now held him together.

A fire burned in the distance. He walked towards it, as he should. The smell of burning cedar and charcoal hit his face, made his nose wrinkle. His mind almost registered that he hadn’t breathed in a few moments, but the sensations in front of him were too much, too distracting. There, in a huge iron bowl in the middle of a clearing, was a roaring fire, smoke pouring from it in all directions, hanging in the air like a rolling fog in mid-morning. The crescent moon had just appeared over the treeline’s horizon and the sky was a royal purple-red.
She was beautiful. Well, his mind argued as he gazed at the four voluptuous cats sitting around the bowl, each one was more beautiful than the next. Birman agreed with himself.

The one next to him wore a flowing robe with an earthy quality. She almost seemed like a fox. Birman smiled with contentment. He sat down near her on a log which seemed familiar and right to him. Her voice pleaded to him, ringing like gentle bells, “We’re so glad you’re here, good Master. We’ve all been so hungry.” Birman’s eyes momentarily met her gaze and found himself entranced. There was nothing he would not do for her. It was as if this beautiful, brown robed fox was himself.
“What can I do for you? I am here to help all creatures, especially ones as close to the Creator as yourself” he felt himself swell with pride, watching it in his meditative stance as always, ready for it to betray him.

“Please, you must know by now that you are in your own Kingdom - that you are,” she looked him head to toe, “Master of everything you survey.” He felt his mind surge with different thoughts. Had he gone into a trance? Was this real? What was happening? This had happened before. Hold it together. Focus on your –

Birman realized that he was not breathing.

This was very, very odd.

He took a deep breath in, and saw a look of worry cross the face of the fox in front of him. “Please, Master, give us something to eat, anything you choose to change in this world will instantly become a banquet fit for a King like yourself, and we will be so thankful that you provided us with it.”
“You have everything you need in this Kingdom, beautiful one, just breathe the air and feel the flow of the prana all around you – Our Inner Being has given us everything we need already.” Birman touched her brown cheek, and she graciously moved away as a gorgeous silver cat with a huge bushy tail moved around the fire and into view.

Her eyes were as red and black as the sunset behind her, and her tail seemed to blow around her with the wind. She sat cross-legged before him, just to the right. Birman smiled down, as it was a very familiar pose that his students had taken when he first began teaching. Her tail wisped around his calves, reaching upwards to his knee.

“Master, it is obvious that you know where you are and who you are,” her beautiful eyes closed, her face beaming into the fire, “You must know that we do nothing but serve you. If you were to be attacked or ridiculed, we could come to your aid.” She glanced up, her eyes caught by the fire in the background. “Even if you were to try and end your own life, we would not let you suffer. We love you too much.”

Birman remembered to breathe. The beauty of the moment, of the sentiment almost caused him to lose his balance. “I will never, ever, throw myself into known danger, little one. I appreciate your sentiment, and your devotion, but you will not ever have to come to my aid because of my own self-destructive action.”

The silver wind of the fox’s tail kissed all over his feet. Birman smiled down at her.

The fire in the bowl suddenly leapt into the air, a gush of wind ran past Birman’s whiskers. The two foxes on either side of him gasped. A red-coated beauty stepped from around the left side of the bowl, her head draped in a delicate red kerchief. Her black dress faded to the same ferocious red of her head scarf. Her eyes were pure but sharp.

“Dear Master,” her words came between sobs. She slowly drew near to him, each step burdened by a gasp. “Please know that we need your help fighting against injustice and the cruel of the world,” she gazed up to him with blue, yielding eyes. “With one word, all the injustice in all the different territories will immediately cease, and you will have complete control.”

Birman flinched.

“Everyone will know that you are leader, that you are the -” she handed him a cup of cold, delicious water that he drank immediately. The smoke was driving his crazy with thirst. “The alpha. The true ruler and governor.”

Birman licked his lips. The much needed refreshment reminded him of home, of the loving people he had met. Of all the beautiful girls he had seen. Of the –

He snapped back.

Birman breathed out.

“I know your passion for justice, beautiful sister, but you must always respect your fellow person, and his ability to govern and rule himself.” Her eyes brimmed with tears. She smiled as if seeing an old friend unexpectedly. She curled on a rock near her sister wearing the brown robes. He watched as she smiled, elated and surprised.

This completely confused Birman.

Where was he? Who were these girls? Did he know them? Why hasn’t he taken a breath in –

Birman breathed in. It was if winter had suddenly set in, as if frost had leapt up his nose.

The fire suddenly gone out, he stared at the empty cauldron. His energy and attention suddenly on high alert, all his thoughts re-routed to the fact that he had stopped breathing actual air some time ago.

A presence was coming. It was not of Birman.

All three girls now clung to his robes, each speaking at once, their own fears about what was about to happen. All four of the girls that had been around the fire were now around him. He felt his consciousness muster. He must defend all of his flock.

The smallest of the girls, who could not have been more than 12, looked up at Birman and pleaded with wet, dark, watery eyes. Her fur must have been black, but it looked like a deep marine in the dark randomness. “Please, Master, you must re-kindle the fire, or we will be drowned in this negative energy that is not of us, or you, our beloved.”

Birman let his brow furrow. He loved all these beautiful girls as if they were himself.

Standing to his feet, he prepared to fight the Creature that was beginning to boil up from the cauldron. It oozed out at first, spreading over the edge of the bowl. The moon shown overhead as it rose in a singular column upwards. Birman breathed out as he watched it strip away gunk, layer after layer, until it took the form of a cat in devout monk’s robes.
The air was still as the creature raised its arms over its head. Birman’s thoughts flashed through his mind. Was this thing about to conjure something? Was he about to be assaulted? Were all his beautiful companions about to be attacked?
Then, Birman breathed out.

Remembering his training, none of what he was seeing was real. He was on day three of his five day vigil to the wilderness. He must return to breathing, as that is the only thing that is truly real at this moment. Birman closed his eyes and dropped like a stone back into the lotus position, his legs crossed. With his right hand, he touched the ground.

The entire scene that had been before him suddenly vanished like smoke.

It was mid-afternoon, and a pack of gnats were swarming in the air around a low-hanging piece of fruit. He gasped for air. It was sweet and tart, and made him cough.

Breathing in and out, Birman went back to concentrating on his breath.

Pixie stix make me hyper

Pixie stix make me hyper

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