InsaneJournal

California was — hot. Los Angeles on its own was humid enough, but out in the middle of nowhere in a national park surrounded by rock and desert sand and cacti, a French girl used to four seasons and nowhere near these scorching temperatures didn't know what to do with herself. She had, like each time before, dressed herself in light track gear, and made sure to position her hair bun high up on her head to limit some of the sun from beating relentlessly down on her scalp. She had done the right things: packed extra water, sunscreen, a hat, snacks.

Deserts were hot. Any regular person knew this. And yet still, she said to her mentor as their boots crunched under rough stones: "It's hot."

This elicited a small smile from Mike. She had dressed in a pair of shorts and a tank top, a baseball cap perched on her head - as casual as anyone had ever seen her - and continued to slather herself in sunscreen. It was her fourth application since her assistant had dropped them off.

Mike turned so that Dominique could get a clear view of her lips and the awkward flutter of her hands to make sure her trainee could understand without issue. "Consider it elemental training," she advised. "If you're too focused on the heat, you're not focused on your end goal. Besides," the older hero continued, gesturing up ahead to where a rock formation covered a swatch of land in blessed shade, "we're almost there." The girl nodded.

Their destination was a clearing free of immediate dunes and rock, just enough to make a rumble without anything coming down upon them from above. Not that Dom wished for that. She'd never made an earthquake strong enough to cause a rockslide or significant damage, and her body ached at the thought alone of such a possibility.

Idly, she rubbed at her right forearm, the site of a previous fracture from power use. This time, she came equipped with the gloves to soak up the vibrations that usually rattled her skeleton. They were usually more than sufficient, though the odd time her body disagreed.

As her mentor slowed to a stop and turned, she came to full attention. The older woman did an initial assessment, sending a medium sized shining ball to the ground. It shook, and rocks scattered at their feet, but no cracks or fissures appeared, and she deemed this acceptable.

"We'll start easy," she instructed. "Move the rocks into a line."

Dominique did her best not to let the hesitance translate to her face. Easy, she'd said. Limiting her power's scope and directing it exactly where she wanted was the most challenging aspect of it; Mike knew this. In theory, if she was the one emitting the vibrations, she could have control over where it directed, rather than it fanning out all around her. There was room for control in there. As for getting there...

She sucked in a breath of dry air and let the world fall away. Her body was both conduit and source. The vibrations came from somewhere deep inside and took over every inch of her, right to the tips of her fingers, and it was as terrifying and painful as it was magnificent. That her small body was capable of such a thing— God's sense of humor hadn't ended with taking her hearing.

They built up slow. Dominique had found at the Academy that making her body smaller by crouching to the ground and setting her hands flat gave her more visual control, concentrating the power to a more contained form. So down she crouched, gloved hands laid flat on hot, dry ground, and the surge of power came: the rocks bounced in place all around her, the dust kicked up, the ground beneath Mike's boots rumbled.

But the rocks didn't move into a line, because it was an impossible feat with her directional power as it was.

The older woman carefully picked her way around the area, mentally graphing where the tremors were strongest, where they began to die out. It was more oblong this time, more concentrated toward the center, lessening in intensity until the pebbles and sand were undisturbed. Still a large area, yes, but there was improvement, however incremental. The capacity of Dominique's power was enormous, but each stride towards control was excruciatingly small. It could be frustrating, Mike knew, but her mentee was patient. At least, outwardly - she couldn't claim to know whatever inner turmoil lay bubbling, if any.

Mike made her way towards the epicenter until she was certain her legs were in Dom's field of vision before lifting her boot three times: stop. Even without the unique challenge of Dom's hearing loss, the quakes were not silent, and she knew her mentee's concentration was focused on the task to the exclusion of keeping an ear out for sound.

The quaking died out and she crouched down near the younger woman. "Good," she said. "The area of effect was smaller this time, slightly less circular. It's an improvement."

Under other circumstances, Dom might've wanted to preen at the praise. Except there was so much further to go. She licked at her lips where the lip balm had begun to stick. "It was not about the line?"

"It's less specifically about the line, more about the control. Being able to create the line is an extension of your control," Mike explained. "You were able to decrease the area. The ultimate goal is to be able to send quakes at will with precision, rather than an amplification that impacts the square mileage around you."

Nodding, though not necessarily catching all the words, Dominique leaned her weight back on her heels. "It's better if I visualize...? Visualize it. Like an arrow, or a lot of arrows." She curled her fingers into fists, then back out. See the direction that she wanted and point it there. Nock, aim, release. The point was that she had to control the vibrations, not the other way around. She held the reins.

Mike signed: exactly. Visualization was an adequate way of framing; Mike, herself, used this in order to generate her energy ball. However, her powers had more inherent control than those of her mentee: Dominique, despite her slight frame, was raw power incarnate.

"Try again," she said. "Move the energy forward, rather than around you."

Being out in the dry heat was doing nothing to help with the overall body weariness Dom was feeling. She exhaled hard, and signed I'll try. Both hands planted back down on the ground, and she dug her fingertips into the warm ground. Forward, like an arrow. Like a bullet. A rock up ahead was eyed, and her concentration was set. Aim for the rock.

The earth rumbled. The vibrations ricocheted inside of her as much as they poured out of her, but she didn't take her eyes off the target. Crack the rock, crack the rock, crack —

Pain radiated up her left arm, but her whimper was lost in the rumbling.

Left, right, forward: the rocks and dirt jumped. Mike barely kept her balance, stumbling to the invisible line where Dom crouched, eyes forward, focused. The earth behind her was still and calm, and Mike reached out a steadying hand to the younger woman's shoulder, gentle but firm. Stop, it conveyed.

It took some moments for the ground beneath them to still, but it did. And the rock, of course, hadn't cracked — she would've had to drill through very thirsty earth to get to that. Even so, Dominique's chest ached with the triumphant knowledge that she'd done something right, that her typically incremental development had made a leap at last, and without thinking beyond that, she affectionately touched her cheek to her mentor's hand.

— Ah. She withdrew, suspecting she'd overstepped, and said: "Pard — I'm sorry."

Mike smoothed a stray strand of hair from Dominique's face, tucking it behind her ear. "Don't apologize unless you have something to apologize for," she said. "Now, how do you feel?" Her eyes raked over her mentee, trying to see if there were any tells that would give away anything amiss, but saw nothing that would indicate a need for concern outside of the expected exhaustion.

"Good," the girl admitted sincerely, signing alongside. For all the aches and pains, the heat beating down on them, the clothes sticking to her skin, she felt good. Control came with hard work and perseverance. She'd get there, eventually.

Her hands curled into determined fists upon her thighs. "I'm ready to go again."

Another glance over, this time more thoroughly. Satisfied, she shook her head. "No. This is good enough for today. There's no reason to push unnecessarily." Mike offered Dom a hand up, noting the way the younger hero kept her left arm against her side. It could be nothing, but... With her free hand, she pulled her phone from her pocket, sending a text to her assistant. "You've done well today, Dom. Now let's get back and cool off, shall we?" With a sniff, the girl bobbed her head in a nod.

Luna popped into existence, offering them each a large bottle of water, before returning them to headquarters.