Meditating for the first time ever.

[08:35] Sugarboy would wake up, stretching his arms to the ceiling with a big yawn. The Magi would look around the unfamiliar room- right, he was a prisoner. He'd get up out of bed and put on his sandals out of habit. He'd walk to the cell door and not find anyone else inside.

He'd turn and look at the tiny cell, Sugarboy still did not like being cooped up. It was a restlessness that had developed when he was afflicted with Hemoincendia, and he wasn't allowed to go outside for two weeks. Atleast in the clinic there were other people there, things to study and occupy his time. In here he had nothing but the joints of sooth root Potayo had given him.

That wasn't something the prisoner would focus on though, things he couldn't do. He knew that would only be worse off in the long run. Scanning the room he'd find the only thing of real note he could work with was himself. His injuries were healing up nicely, but he didn't quite have the room to run and maintain his level of fitness. There we go, that's something he could work on.

Dropping to the ground, he'd start counting push ups. He wasn't vary strong to begin with, but he was light enough he was able to knock a good amount out before getting tired. He'd roll over onto his back and begin doing crunches. Continuing to work out until every muscle in his body was sore, he laid there on the cell floor pondering.

Sugarboy needed something to do, but he was too sore to work out. He had the whole world at his fingertips, and now that was all gone. He'd keep finding himself come back to the same thought, that he wasn't free, he was bottled up.

Dragging himself up off the floor he'd sorely walk over to the bed and sit on it, crossing his legs together, he'd conjure a ball of water in his hands. He'd stare into it deeply, it swirled around in a circle, he could feel the current in his blood.

It was something the boy didn't understand, his own magic. Sugarboy was always a go with the flow kind of guy, doing whatever came his way. Was this a product of his upbringing? He had grown up on a relatively small, sandy island. It had a small population of dirty talking sailors, and of course his mother. Fishing was his life, if you didn't fish you didn't eat. Fishing was another one of those 'go with the flow' sort of things, they just came to you and you'd do everything you can to bring them in, make it work for you.

Sugarboy would focus on that, go with the flow. It was a mantra of his, and he had followed it so well until he was captured. Was this some sort of divine punishment? He said he swam against the current when he fought for Euyitl. Maybe this was fate, he acted out of place and now he was where he didn't belong. But it wasn't Euiytl that made him fight, she tried to encourage him to leave... No, there was something else at play here.

The ball of water in his hands would dissipate and become a flickering flame. Sugarboy may have not known why or how he could conjure water magic, but he atleast understood it, it was like second nature to him. But it was this flickering flame, this foreign entity that was given to him by a friend. An unstable friend who had given him his spark, but staring into the flame he felt so many emotions. Epsilon didn't just give him fire, but he gave him a drive, it wasn't until Sugarboy had gotten his own fire that he was more active and goal oriented. The fire seemed to push Sugarboy down the metaphorical stream of life faster, when it worked for him.

He'd look into the flame even longer, it wasn't just his drive, it was his passion as well. Memories of Euyitl would flood into his head, the first time they met on the beach and how they had become such fast friends over such a small conversation. How they had cuddled that night in a house that didn't belong to them. Their first kiss on the bridge over the waterfall, how perfect that night had been. The next memory was when things started to get a little more hot and heavy, it was just a lot of kissing and light affection, but it was nice. It drove him to build a house.. The house he spent weeks building, decorating to make perfectly for them. The fire would grow as Sugarboy would grit his teeth, the thought he wouldn't be able to show it to Euyitl for a long long time.

And there it was, the problem. The flame was also his anger, something he honestly never really experienced until he received his spark from Epsilon. He must've channeled it towards the demons, the vampires, they were safe enemies to do so with. But that fire seared it's way into other things, it ignited at the worst possible time. That was why he was in this cell. The fire continually grew as Sugarboy began to resent it. It scared him watching how it flickered so unstably, he couldn't stand to look at it anylonger, and would smother it with more water.

Steam would form and he'd conjure it into a swirling ball. There was a balance he would have to strike between the two, his passion and drive with his easy going nature. He wouldn't swim up current anymore, he would tread forward so long as it lead back to Euyitl.
(Sugarboy)