Traps: A Comprehensive Study

[supernal]

Luriah interacted with one of Edward's traps likely without knowing that she had triggered it at all. The child could not be blamed. None of her classmates would have been wise to the gambit either. It took a mid-tier student, well versed in all of the arts and the crafts floating around in that big Edward brain of his, to know enough to be able to spot an LTI (long-term irritant). It was a subtle psychological type thing. Something that the prey wasn't supposed to notice right away, but that played on his senses consistently.

Specifically, the bottom of the puddle that Luriah darted across had been smoothed out. Less friction. Less tread for her shoes or feet to grip. Filed down to a point where slipping up was guaranteed. She'd lose her feet behind her and eat shit, lose them in front of her and eat shit from a different angle, or slide forward and her stomach would get it from the extended bed of the truck.

The LTI was, of course, the pain. Perhaps she would not notice the throbbing discomfort from blunt force trauma, or the stinging nettle from scrapes (depending on how Luriah decided to eat shit), but every moment she took to rest was a moment that her body could take to recognize (RECOGNIZE!) the damage. It dispirited and discouraged. It broke down the will.

Every moment spent looking for that glove box . . .

[soulbrand]

Vibrancy flooded the sense of the youth, Esben, shifted himself to ensure a safe landing as he twisted about the air, the shoe lashed violently upon his backside during the confusion. It had been without some ills, however. Bared feet broke a single tile of the ceiling swiftly before the pain was registered in the display of crimson that mixed with the otherwise, eyesore landscape.

And so he would press on, a path marred by the bloodied footprint of the boy.

It had been the same, a hallway led to a flight of stairs, those stairs groaned at his touched and allowed him safe passage and the cycle had continued for several floors. An adjustment however caused the youth to stop his pace after the final step.

Neglect had caused an overgrowth in the vines that stretched from the street, shattering the glass that overtime had become weakened and splintered. Cobwebs hung magnificent in the corners as well as upon the walls, each adorned with the dusty shells that used to house the infant spiders that now made webs of their in corners unseen. With swift, fluid movements, the lace from his shoe would be withdrawn and a light show of his own would begin:

The lace broke down into a series of cubes, marked by a single bright light that erupted from the four sides of each individual cubes, waving about the air they would form a pole, blunt and used merely for prodding the ground before him. A shoe placed atop the makeshift cane, he would press on cautiously to the dull hollow thud that accompanied him.

[supernal]

The youth, this Esben child, was no doubt a naturally curious child in his younger days despite being so young already. The heart of inquisition beat firmly in his chest, put up a fire in his belly that only the answers could hope to quench. Curiosity had a way of hurting just as much as it healed and no man could deny what a masterful teacher pain turns out to be.

The kid had tricks.

Despite ingenuity, whether because Edward planned it this way or because Esben's cane did such a sound job, there were no more traps to find. Esben made it down the full length of the stairwell, down the stretch of hallway with its various turns that eventually led him outside. The hallway ended in a terminal, about half the size of a football field and littered with giant metal clusters that bore strong resemblances to the machine that held the children's goal but of different shapes, sizes and colors.

Nothing but stone stared back at Esben from the left side, the wavy metal of a wall-sized garage door waited for the boy on his right, and a single door on the wall completely opposite him. The room was thick with dust, ripe with the scent of oil, rotting vinyl and burned rubber. The door was already opened and lead to a lush field of ferns and creeping vines.

[soulbrand]

A deep inhale as the dust adorned walls and rooms of the establishment left to the traps of Edward had been abandoned, Esben stood firmly upon the final place where his cane had resounded in safety; smiling he took a moment for himself.

Yet present on peripherals were the stone walls and the situations they could provide, a misstep could have them slamming into the youth, or perhaps they housed pointed and otherwise airborne tactics? Another pause, a hum followed before the cane tapped lightly forward, unmoving was the visage of Esben. It was those unfamiliar cars that caused alarm too as they were all too foreign to Esben to be proper cared for and so, he twirled his cane and rested it along his shoulder (though keeping a point towards the ground, not touching) as he pressed on.

All was well as he hadn’t seen another student during his entire trip, perhaps they had already succeeded? No, he was sure there would have been notice from the professor, so perhaps they failed?

[supernal]

Esben continued forward, the repetitive tap of the cane against the floor surprisingly accurate. The youth either had a natural sense of timing, or a calculative mind far beyond what he should. Whatever the case, he'd find no more pressure sensitive traps here. Edward had his fill of those early on in the game. Once you tipped your hand in that respect, the quarry tended to get wise.

Atop the roof, Edward smiled. He smiled as he thumbed another rock. Smiled as he sent it flying, skidding across the lake's surface the moment he thought it seemed too still and needed to add chaos to the mix. But a portion of his conscious mind was slaved to the task of tracking the children. Luriah's progress stopped somewhere near the bed of the truck, for whatever reason. Probably recuperating while she staked her ground. She could catch her breath, keep her eye on the prize, and not risk the chance of another trap if she stayed absolutely still.

Smart.

Esben was catching up to her but quick, though. About a quarter of the way through the dusty, musty, busty garage the trap triggered. Edward heard the gears shift as things swung into place and smiled to himself, flinging another rock. The floor beneath Esben's feet spun around fast enough to make the colors surrounding the child bleed together then settled into place.

No garage. No cars. Stone temple. Moss creeping up the walls, vines hanging off the ceiling, a long and somewhat narrow hallway. Behind Esben an altar. In his hands, a golden statue. Gears continued to shift, the walls parted and . . .

[soulbrand]

In conflict with his senses Esben dropped hard to his left knee, leaning upon his cane with a groan as the world around him once more shifted another trap? Cautiously he had trekked and yet it seemed that this Edward had plans even still—great.

Weighted and pulling to the left, Esben would admire with wide eyes the golden stature that rested in his grip and with a confused glance he would looked towards what he could only presume to be the rumble he felt in his knee. A stone larger than any of the heaps of metal he had seen previously came barreling towards him. Panicking he would shove to his feet and twist in the opposite direction, a spring found his bare feet tapping hard against the pavement. “If there was ever a time to have my shoes, now would be it, ugh!”

Leaping forward along the path would do so in such a way he would spin and when his chest faced the stone he would scream, the makeshift walking stick hurled towards the stone, the boot that lay atop would be sent in a luminous display towards the rock, as he finished the spin and landed in full sprint. Groaning as his balance momentarily shifted, he wouldn’t have time to see if the trick worked—though it was doubtful it would do more than slow it, if that. Exploding outward from the now luminous center the shoe would shape change into a large web, the ends bound to the walls of the tunnel and the stern floor, the stone would either become ensnared and stop, perhaps slow or prove to be stronger than even the child’s metamorphic tones and remain true to course.

Esben would run, either way.

[supernal]

The boulder passed through the net with ease. Or better said, the net passed through the boulder as if the rolling stone didn't exist. Ah, that was the trick. It didn't. The whole thing was an illusion, from the room to the boulder to the statue in his hands (the minor tactile illusion lent credibility to the whole illusion) to the vines hanging all over the place.

But would Esben notice? What, with his tail tucked between his legs as he sped down the forbidden alley to the sweet salvation that was Mother Nature? Not that the boy was a coward mind you, his reaction understandable in the light of things, but he sure ran like a coward. The stone still rumbled as it rolled; the illusion continued.

No, not until Esben vaulted through the gaping doorway and landed face first in the dirt, now taking the time to catch his breath and look behind him, would he take note of the fact that the temple had vanished. Vines replaced by rusty sheet metal; rolling stone replaced by a yard full of old machines.

In his hands? Nothing. No statue, and he chose to left his cane behind. It was nowhere to be seen. He could find it, likely, if he went back and looked for it but that begged the question of what else the boy might find in the garage.

The truck was now in sight.

[soulbrand]

It had ended almost as swiftly as it had begun. An illusion faded as the net would remain intact, the reality returned and empty fisted the youth would be peering with a lifted brow towards the source of the prize.

Panic had become confusion and that confusion shifting to an alerted stance, Esben narrowed his gaze as he peered towards the car and it would be foolish so close to the end to simply rush but his safety net had vanished from his hands as well. Debris that lay at his feet was unusable rocks, vines that remained entangled yet no longer attached to their main source; he was for the first time on his own.

Dropping down to the ground his hands ran softly on the area just before him, he wouldn’t continue in full this way and with the first step being clear, his trek would be a slow albeit alert one. The end was closing in.

[supernal]

The car loomed in sight, its proximity tempting but the stretch of ground between the boy and his goal was no doubt intimidating. To the right side lay the lake; the occasional plop and ripple signaled when Edward threw another rock into the drink.

Tension fattened the air; a chill anxiety rested on Esben's shoulders and raised every hair on his body to a screaming point. Everything seemed so . . . calm. So peaceful. But if there was one thing that this class period had taught Esben is that no matter how calm things seemed, there always lurked the potential to turn one's world upside down.

The punch hurt worse when one wasn't expecting it. What was Esben expecting?

Nothing happened.

[soulbrand]

Footfalls seemed to echo into the nothingness that Esben had allowed his mind to become, the world around the youth wasn’t there only the shiny knob of the car’s door, the window rustic and coated in dust, yet the glove box was clear as day. Alert enough to retreat his hand into his sleeve before grasping the doorknob, he would lift it upward; a click as it unlocked from the car itself and in a single effort he had hope to merely pull it open.

As aged as the car appeared to be, was this even possible though? Furiously he yanked, his mind once more coming to focus as he had suddenly become aware of what her had done and had hoped that once the weighted door had groaned open it didn’t spring a trap.

It is too late to undo what has been done. A thought remained with him as the door was yanked open and the youth paused only a moment to see if a trap had been present; should it prove to be nothing but a child being overly eager, he would reach towards and aim to claim the prize in the glove box.

[supernal]

The car handle clicked; gears turned and levers shifted. It did not give way to Esben's coaxing intent, but rather held firm and fast, as if mocking him for possibly eluding himself that he stood so close to his goal and yet did not have the strength to accomplish the task. That the fruit lay within touch but not within reach, fingers grazing against the rind.

When the boy strained against the door it squeaked open with a cough of rust. Dust milled in the air, blanketing the chair, arm rests and windows. The boy expected a trap but nothing came. Expected to be swept off his feet. To lose focus for a fraction of a second, just long enough to be struck by something as swift as an eagle but five times as deadly. And yet, again, nothing came.

Nothing came.

"Are you going to wait there all damn day?"

Edward's voice drifted lazily down the front side, rolled across the ground and traipsed from one of the boy's shoulders to the next. Anticipation, and the anguish of unmet expectation, was one of many psychological layers to the trap Edward set up. In frantic competition a moment's hesitation meant the difference between the sweetest victory and the most complete, utter, and bitter failure.

But the idea of tense rivalry could not be generated when there was only one man on the field. And so though Esben had to shoulder the burden of anxiety and anticipation, nothing came of it. He was left to explore the glove box at his leisure.

[soulbrand]

It was Esben who would claim the prize, the letter sealed with a kiss in all the literal glory of the statement as a mahogany letter was withdraw from the rustic and broken glove box; a rose red imprint in the shape of kiss rested—was the teacher the one who placed his heart to the paper?

A question without an answer as once his hold on the envelope was set he would merely twist upon his bared heels and head back in the direction he had come, towards the origin of this quest and once more to the teacher who had requested something as simple as a letter. Each footfall in the casual grace was approached similarly to when he had made the descent; just because he had acquired the prize he wouldn’t presume the traps would be stilled.

Yet he would simply walk.

[AthreleCaliver]

There was nothing to stop her body from moving. The initial thoughts were extreme fear and the end was a most definite and painful feeling. Something had gone terribly wrong, her idea of rampant movement has caused her momentum to increase, keeping any traction at the soles of her shoes, from grappling to the ground and water beneath her.

All that could really have been said of the entire situation was that upon having slid across what she had thought to be a liquid and pliable body of water, she crashed arms and head first into the truck bed she had been so diligent in aiming for.

The stars had come out and her world was full of them, disparaging thoughts of pain and discomfort and the lack of thought on her part was enough discouragement to make her lay still and wait for medical assistance.

[supernal]

After procuring the letter Esben did not have far to walk before Edward's face, smiling and wrinkled with middle-age, stared back at him from a short distance away. He brought his hands together and gave the boy a standing ovation.

"Not bad. Far from the best I've seen, and I mean miles and miles far, but you did a good job for a first-timer. You earned yourself that A."

Edward relieved his young charge of the letter, without even so much as looking at the seal or weighing the contents in hand, and stuffed it into his back pocket. The smell of perfume hung daintily in the air. Edward placed a hand on Esben's shoulder and led him back to the truck.

Upon reaching Luriah Edward gently rolled her onto her back and pried her eyelids open, inspected her pupils, and then slapped her in the face lightly twice to make sure that her blood was still pumping.

"Here, chew on this for a bit. When it starts tasting bitter, you can just go ahead and spit it out. You beaned yourself on the side, right around here." Edward touched the bump on Luriah's head gingerly, though even that gentle touch no doubt inspired sudden discomfort in the girl. "But you'll be fine. Why don't you hop on up here and I'll get you back to the classroom proper."

Edward sat on the bed of the truck with his back facing Luriah, offering her the best damn piggy-back ride that anyone would offer her in her time at the academy.

"You did good too girlie. I'm giving you a B. You know what? Screw it. B+."

END CLASS PERIOD YAY!