1st Vhalar 717
The earth was a solid. Robin knew this. He understood that he didn't sink through the ground because of the same magic that kept him from walking through a wall. He understood, even if he didn't know the rules, that there was something that kept a rock looking like a rock. He understood that, whatever it was called, was missing from the other three. They didn't have a shape, not naturally. But.
Robin also knew his magic allowed him to work outside the rules. He defied them, because that is what defiance did.
He put himself against the earth, on his knees. Robin pushed against the sand and the dirt and the stone. There was some give -- he was able to imprint his hands on the ground, but there was more resistance than he'd expected. "You've let me in before, you can do it again," he whined, remembering the time he'd been swallowed whole. The earth rumbled, uncomfortable with the idea of changing. "Just once, that's it? I need to practice. I need to be able to rely on you."
Wrong choice of words.
The earth began to shake. Robin rolled his eyes because he was dealing with a child. "Obviously I trust you. It's me, I don't trust," the earth stilled, listening. Oh, it was stubborn, but he knew its tune. They shared pride and Robin could sing with honey like anything. "I need to know how to move. Sensing is different, too," he added, still pushing into the ground. The earth softened, breaking into something like sand. It poured around his hands, his knees, giving in to his weight. Robin smiled.
The ground rippled. The hair on the back of his neck stood straight.
He supposed going into anything would feel intimate.
