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

Keystone readily stifled a smirk at the apple meeting the floor with a dramatic, almost exothermic reaction. The fruit had to be nearing the end of its culinary usefulness, exploding the way it did after a short drop. The brawler imagined that, having been stuck underneath Yomdi's robes for enough time, he might also not be as constitute as he once was. 

Still, exploding fruit was pretty funny. Especially to a man with simple humors such as Keystone. Not the kind of funny that makes one collapse on the ground in a gasping heap, possibly soiling one's undergarments in the process, no, but the guttural reaction of a man having seem something abruptly satisfying, snorting, and returning to a resting mood (be it a fraction more amused than before). 

He supposed it was his turn, then. Being no stranger to breathing techniques and rather impressed with the potential application of manipulative air, this was actually a bit exciting. In Keystone's experience, his own internal winds mostly manipulated him, not the other way around. He looked to his hand, still clutching two rich, brown chestnuts. Yes, these would suffice. 

As if flipping a coin, Keystone thumbed one high into the air and stepped underneath. The slightly streaked, dark edible seed flew high, tumbling and spiraling about above his head. Keystone adopted a nigh stance, arms in front on his chest and feet shoulder width apart. He forced his mind to slow, synchronize with the beating of his heart. The nut seemed to twirl upwards with less acceleration, winding down yet still traveling at the same rate. 

It seemed to pause, if only for a fraction of a second, before starting back down. 

Keystone took in a fast but gentle breath through his nose, feeling the air gust into his lungs. It galvanized him; set off his body and soul's ability to harness his own life energy to perform tasks others would deem martially impossible. He was One with his chi. 

A surge of adrenaline, lancing through him like liquid greatness, dilated his eyes and sharpened his perception. He could pick out the individual grooves and imperfections in this chestnut, this tiny spark of life-that-could-be. Keystone opened himself fully to the possibilities of the moment and let himself believe. 

The chestnut descended further. Faster now, as his perception came back in sync with the world around him. Keystone drew from his inner reserves of power, released a tiny stream of his spiritual energy upward, and exhaled gently towards the nut above him. 

It bricksmacked him. Hard. 

Much harder than it should have. Point of fact, it felt like he had just punched himself in his own face. The lingering Chi he had harnessed dissipated, returning to the ley lines of his form. An emotion that did not seem his own echoed in his failure to keep the nut aloft; something akin to betrayal. Less "you must die for your transgressions" betrayal; more like parental disappointment. 

Keystone went horizontal well before he struck the floor. The chestnut seemed to press down on his face just a little harder before rolling unceremoniously onto the floor. Dazed, if but for a second, Keystone kicked himself to a standing position and glanced about, expecting an attack. 

Another second later, he looked to Persephone. A trickle of blood from his nose stood as the only physical manifestation of recent beatdown he received from an afternoon snack. 

[color=b8860b]"I'm not thinkin' that's usual."[/color]