The initial exploration using Spirit is simple enough; Harrow is experienced at seeing and sensing through senses other than her eyes. Probing the other location is more difficult at first, until Harrow realizes she should be looking within, to her internal conception of the location, rather than trying to project the tendrils of Spirit all the way there.
When she finds the thin edge of the resonance between her conception of the space and reality, it's clearer how the similarities of two places can be bridged. Once she's made contact with the other location, it's easy enough to step out of the loop and leave the weave of Spirit touching both simultaneously.
She continues to draw from Moiraine, trying to find the differentiation in the torrent of dying energy. She begins by laying down the boundaries of Air, aware that it's her weakest element and that the stability of the portal is key.
Death by air; death through air. The murderous haze of London Below and the vicious vacuum beyond the dome of Drearburh. The sweet smoke of the crematorium. She is sweating blood by the time she finishes weaving the boundaries, but she does it.
Earth is easier; decay, dust, the heavy heart of bone. But as she tries to craft into into bridge and anchor she finds the weave fighting her direction, unmanageable. Moiraine seems graft two spaces together and encourage a bridge to grow between them, but nothing Harrow touches can grow. The more she tries, the more the overall weave suffers, mutating, cancerous, and finally she says, "I have to let it go," bitterly.
no subject
When she finds the thin edge of the resonance between her conception of the space and reality, it's clearer how the similarities of two places can be bridged. Once she's made contact with the other location, it's easy enough to step out of the loop and leave the weave of Spirit touching both simultaneously.
She continues to draw from Moiraine, trying to find the differentiation in the torrent of dying energy. She begins by laying down the boundaries of Air, aware that it's her weakest element and that the stability of the portal is key.
Death by air; death through air. The murderous haze of London Below and the vicious vacuum beyond the dome of Drearburh. The sweet smoke of the crematorium. She is sweating blood by the time she finishes weaving the boundaries, but she does it.
Earth is easier; decay, dust, the heavy heart of bone. But as she tries to craft into into bridge and anchor she finds the weave fighting her direction, unmanageable. Moiraine seems graft two spaces together and encourage a bridge to grow between them, but nothing Harrow touches can grow. The more she tries, the more the overall weave suffers, mutating, cancerous, and finally she says, "I have to let it go," bitterly.