He takes one last gulp of air and focuses on that well of emotion. Not very close, but strong enough to breech the distance between them. His fingers stretch out and touch the sides of the tea cup and he pushes the emotions filling him outward, converting feelings into energy.
When he let go of the engery, the the ride exploded around him and only the tea, that torturous air-depriving heated liquid, kept him from destroying himself.
He could breathe once more and lay there, curled in a ball, sucking in the air. He didn't know how long he did so. But it was enough for him to push himself unsteadily to his feet and begin searching for that well of vengence. Perhaps that person would know where to find his sister's murderer.
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