[center][h3][b][i][color=b8860b]Johnathon Keystone[/color][/i][/b][/h3][/center]
[b][center][color=b8860b]Location:[/color] Yellow Rose Temple[/center][/b][b][center][color=b8860b]Interacting With:[/color] Persephone, Yomdi[/center][/b]

To be fair, this wasn't the first time a seemingly crazy old man pulled him in close and whispered something cryptic that, only in hindsight, made sense. 

He really hoped that was the case this time, as well. Keystone already had a pretty good handle on the whole [i]breathing[/i] thing, having done so unaided between two and three decades thusfar. Now, if learning how to "breathe" in the manner prescribed by the elder temple master aided his endurance or deepened his state of awareness during meditation, that would be useful. If instead the itinerant brawler was to be made privy to the ancient and mystical art of nose whistling, that would be a different matter indeed. 

From the look of their would-be teacher, it was even money either way. 

Keystone looked sideways to Persephone, still in the grip of their frail looking but deceptively strong host, checking to see if she was alright and/or if this was a common practice for the region. Stifling back a belch, Keystone inquired with an uncertain voice, [color=b8860b]"Breathe, Master Yomdi? Reckon as I've got a handle on pushing air past my teeth, both directions; 'less you've got something new."[/color]

The burp made itself known, given escape from its esophagean Bastille by means of his vocalization. It rattled out with a lingering [i]grarrrrrrp[/i], echoing lightly off of the shiny marble flooring. While not versed in the finer points of etiquette in situations such as these, Keystone did, at least, have the common decency to blow it out of the side of his mouth, away from Yomdi. 

[color=b8860b]"'Pologies, sir. Big meal, um... So, 'bout that breathing?"[/color]