Fusand sat cross-legged in the cultivation room of Elua's small house while focusing entirely on his internal state. He could sit for hours playing with Projections, meditating about his past and future, or just siphoning essence into his field. But he had always really disliked the methods of physical energy cultivation.
The crystallized amber shavings he had consumed hours ago still churned in his stomach. They were a very dense source of energy waiting to be properly converted. His master's lecturing voice had stressed repeatedly that this was nothing like the crude methods taught at the Youth Guild.
She had espoused that it wasn't efficient and - he had to admit that even after barely practicing the techniques that calling her assessment 'right' was like calling the sun a 'candle'.
'And the look she gave me when I just *asked* about what happens if I waste too much of it…'
