For the first day of the month, I wanted to start with a poem about manifesting powers. The manifestation is usually one of the most significant parts of someone life, much like having puberty happen in a matter of fifteen minutes; complete with all the discomfort, hormones, and sweats.
One of the aspects about manifesting magic is the stress that triggers it. For those with an easy life and simple troubles triggering powers, the corresponding power is usually more artistic or delicate.
Lily's manifestation was having a pair of men fighting over her. It was relatively mild though, she wasn't in danger, so her power ended up being relatively creative: the ability to color any material.
On the other hand, Desòchu's powers came into being after losing his father and almost killing his brother in anger. As a punishment, he was thrown into the middle of the desert to either die of exposure or find his magic.
There is one thing to say, the desert clans are very efficient at creating a maximum amount of stress to ensure the most powerful magical abilities possible. This is actually why many of the clan youth are kept in the dark of what would happen to make it as traumatic as possible.
Waiting for Change
Every second too slow. Every moment lingers. Something inside me grows. A strangeness... A discomfort... My bones are too short. My voice still cracks. My insides twist. A rising... A bubbling... My fingers feel too long. My thoughts keep slipping. The edges of my vision blur. A changing... A growing... How much longer? How much do I have to wait?