[hider=Finalised section 6]
[center][img]http://67.media.tumblr.com/d85404396cd920ea481c9dd2a3d8d632/tumblr_o8rjgeiPvk1u5gf80o1_400.png[/img][/center]
I am Flux. I am of the waves and the sand and the spray, and I am their will. Under my rule, this realm is blessed. Where I create, I create with vision, and where I destroy, I destroy well.

This has always been my way.

Today I continue it, as I shall, forever, each day growing in power, and wisdom, and dominion.

I sit cross-legged upon the becalmed shore in a shroud of mist, meditating hands on knees, eyes shut. There is no need for me to hide my body, for it is handsome to the last, nor do I have to change my shape to administrate my fiefdom. I have learned that abandoning my own perfection is not necessary for such things. I have learned to subjugate my disease and control it, that my body should never have to dissolve into strangeness, and in doing so I have grown stronger. 

In patience I count the moments, contemplating the ways I shall reveal my glory when the sun rises until its rays at last shine through me and my waters are set alight by their touch.

[right][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cIeyC112PxA]Les Friction- String Theory (Instrumental)[/url][/right]
With the grace of great strength under perfect control, I rise, slowly, in tune with the motion of the ripples around me. They diverge from me in intersecting concentric flows. I feel my muscle curve, now in restrained arcs, now in sharp twists like the way of a pen on a book, and I dance.

Step, bow, turn, leap, land, rise.

My feet trace crescents over the calm darkness, and it ascends in measured flicks upon folds that curve around me, sinuously matching the reticent tempo. Each slow note is a half-spin, a balance of effortlessly outstretched arms and legs. A different number each time.

Curve, stretch, stand.

The sea rises on each step to elevate my pose. I am flexible, and firm. My turns become pirouettes. My legs become a slow blur. I clasp the waves towards me with a thousand hands in a single, sweeping beat, then release them from one, as a gift to a lover.

Rise up. Harmonise. Unify.

The strands of water rest in my grip like mighty reins, but I spin slowly, trailing them as delicately as two ribbons, and each one of the multitude is bound to surges that swirl and coalesce at my rhythm. A myriad of watery dancers court one another upon the shore, passing by their partners in every direction, lacing themselves up into high towers of foam lattice until- A downward pulse, and it all collapses in time to my sea green heart.

They grow again, and I conduct. I raise their dreams to the heavens and point them the way with my prayerful hands held high, and my two other arms stretched wide enough to gesture to as far as east and west, and the spires of sand and foam weave themselves grander than ever.

It collides and falls, again and again, and yet my rhythm is growing louder and stronger and the shore constructs are ever greater, and the waters ascend before they even have time to come apart. Drought and depths, the entire lagoon, the whole foreshore, it is all moving as one now.

All eyes rise to me, for I am the lead dancer, and now my motions are full. They command my entire frame. My back arches and loops and spirals and the sea spirals with me, a white water palace of flying heights and bridges.

I move in a world of dream that has risen from the mundane chaos. Gravity is forgotten; There is only my motion. I leap and I soar and I land where I wish, and the perfect maelstrom crashes on each beat to be reborn and rise further. It shines. I land on palms and knees in a circular archway that eclipses the sun.

I run.

I take off on one leg and my other two bend as I spin around its axis, into the center of the arch, and I fly.

The sun is behind me. The sun is in me.

The whole world is below me, and rising, and falling, and rising and rising...

And it is over.

I land on one knee and bow as the lagoon booms into itself, leaving a great cloud of vapour above and a swill of sediment below. The sea stills at my touch. 

My eyes have not opened once.

Only the sand remembers the shape of the cathedral it held, for such brief moments, and it remembers well. Its shapes are indescribable. A shadow of the dance.

But I can see the formless water. I can feel the pierce of the illness tempting me to shapelessness, and I must dance again.[/hider]