She exhales and sets her mind. Like many people who were prodigies as children, Harrow is always frustrated to not succeed on the first try; yet she did not get where she is today without being able to work hard.
"All right," she says.
Spirit, to find and connect the two location. Then Earth to anchor and bridge. But again the weave will not take shape; she finds the thread-by-thread detail she has memorized fighting against her intuitions about ideas like anchor and bridge, which seems to butt up against and gnarl the structure she has already woven in place.
She weighs the two in her mind and decides to stick with the weave as written by Moiraine Sedai, clearing her mind and remaining open to whatever form it takes. Almost immediately, the weave begins to come together for her, although it feels very different.
The spaces do not solidify and grow together; they feel as if they are becoming more indistinct, as if she is leaching the here and there out of them until they become one substance, as all living things are destined to become one buried under the Earth. It is as if space decays in the face of her weave--not cut or torn but simply worn away by time.
Quickly she erects the portal of Air, containing the patch of decay she has created, and the portal unfolds like a stoma in the substance of reality itself. She can feel blood seeping into her collar from yet another nosebleed, but who cares about that? Through the portal she can see the meadow near the barn, where her skeletons made war and Gideon surprised her.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2020-10-21 09:17 pm (UTC)"All right," she says.
Spirit, to find and connect the two location. Then Earth to anchor and bridge. But again the weave will not take shape; she finds the thread-by-thread detail she has memorized fighting against her intuitions about ideas like anchor and bridge, which seems to butt up against and gnarl the structure she has already woven in place.
She weighs the two in her mind and decides to stick with the weave as written by Moiraine Sedai, clearing her mind and remaining open to whatever form it takes. Almost immediately, the weave begins to come together for her, although it feels very different.
The spaces do not solidify and grow together; they feel as if they are becoming more indistinct, as if she is leaching the here and there out of them until they become one substance, as all living things are destined to become one buried under the Earth. It is as if space decays in the face of her weave--not cut or torn but simply worn away by time.
Quickly she erects the portal of Air, containing the patch of decay she has created, and the portal unfolds like a stoma in the substance of reality itself. She can feel blood seeping into her collar from yet another nosebleed, but who cares about that? Through the portal she can see the meadow near the barn, where her skeletons made war and Gideon surprised her.