The Rift: V

[Taelian]

41st of Frost, Year 119

Time passed as he both practiced, and learn more on Transposition's theories; the theory of Aether Flux in greater detail, a more reasonable explanation of how Window barred material substance from crossing through, and even further detail into some of the later tricks of the magic. Taelian asked Eloise to better explain distance: why a Transpositioner suddenly leaped so greatly forward upon reaching expertise, to a multitude of several hundred. She explained the theory of Portal mastery; that Portals themselves were a doorway to advanced application of the Rune. That much of what came before was a build-up, if anything; to him, it perhaps made sense.

Finally, with a few progressively better attempts at forging a Window, everything clicked into place for the Ebon Knight and he weaved a Window into the space before him. It remained, and peered into the room adjacent to the common area he and Eloise had most commonly practiced within. The woman stared into it, and as if realizing Taelian's success with delay, she grinned enthusiastically and clapped to congratulate the success of her initiate.

"Well done!" the Umpire exclaimed, though she kept her voice reasonably moderate. "Your first true construction; is it not an elating experience, Ebon Knight?"

The Siltori pressed his lips. "Mmm," he sounded. "It's quite alright, Lady de Lyonnese. Not to diminish the moment, but I am... rather far from where I wish to be," he hesitantly claimed. The woman's brow perked.

"Where do you wish to be, Taelian?" she asked.

"I want to be able to make... an actual portal. You... know what I mean -- like the ones used to go far away. Though I am certain the applications of Window and other abilities will be... useful, it is distance that I am focused on. That's why I wanted this Rune. To..."

"Taelian, hold for a moment," Eloise requested, pressing her palm forward and looking to the younger man with an exacting stare. "Evaluate what you are saying. Does it hold, being entirely rational, for you to wish to perform a technique reserved only for true experts of the art, when you only now created your first Window? You are far away from this aspiration of yours, and while it is admirable, it is foolish to feel dismayed by progress towards arriving to that point. Your progress is as admirable as it is spurred by undue haste; you will learn to craft true Portals in time, if that is what you desire, and if you are auspiciously favored. Until then, your life will not change; it will remain as it was before. Only, with some additional tools, though they may not be as dynamic as you would hope for."

In essence, Taelian surmised, she was telling him to slow. Such was often her advice. But he did not know the caution of most mages; the one magic he had been truly familiar with before now was one largely driven by instinct. The risk was in the heat of battle where it was most often learned -- where one could fall to the Dranoch time and again, with any such 'auspicious' fortunes needing only a moment of aversion. Following rules of what he felt was imaginary caution was not easy for him. He had done so well with Summoning... and now this. Taelian wanted more.

He began to wonder if, in some way, he was special. It was a dangerous thought for a mage to have.

[Taelian]

He practiced forging the 'Window' a small amount more, with even the occasional failure in-between his successes. He had crafted a few, now, and he noticed his success rate increasing the further he went on -- despite the fact that he had exerted himself near to the point of overstepping. Cautioned by Eloise, and even himself, the Ebon Knight agreed to pause in his learning for the day and pick up the magic once more tomorrow. He had been living like a hermit in Lethiril's cabin for far too long, anyhow; Taelian was certain that Riven was dreadfully worried of him.

"What led you to become a mage, Eloise?" the Siltori absently asked as the two of them rolled their straw mats and the woman reorganized her training materials in preparation for the following lesson.

"Did you not live in Daravin for a while? I recall that you did. It is quite common there," the half-blood replied. Taelian's brows narrowed along with his eyes, as if to express some degree of distaste.

"Eloise--" he paused. The woman's eyes softened, as if she were reluctant to share her reasoning. Whatever the case, the woman rose from her almost kneeling position on the floor and extended a hand towards the fledgling mage, before her expression seemed to warm and then worryingly flatten, as if she did not care at all.

"My mother wanted me to be one. It is that simple; by becoming a mage I would secure my spot among the Valran, if I became skilled enough. And, by doing so, I would uplift our family from poverty and into status beyond what she would have ever imagined before. She was a Hytori, and my father was a human... but he left us when I was very young. He went off to pursue a human woman, as his mother commanded him to do; entertaining, how alike he and I are, in that respect. We surrendered our lives to the whims of our mother, as if carrying no independent will of our own. But unlike in his case -- the man quickly contracting an incurable disease, likely borne of his new wife's contagion -- I did not allow myself to be controlled by fate. When I became a powerful enough magi, I took to commanding it. My mother was a weak link."

[Taelian]

Taelian's gaze lowered. He wondered... if she meant what he thought she did; that she, perhaps--

"It is all a part of the Candor. Even we Valran played it; you did not need to be a member of the Entente. In a way, we were somewhat like lesser Nobility, though we were still held to many of the same standards. It was all... quite alright, though. The Candor made me who I am today; strong, self-reliant, cautious and dubious whilst also knowing when to recognize excellent opportunities. Such as yourself."

The Siltori softly smiled, though in truth he remained disturbed. As many lives, unrelated to his own, as he could imagine taking in a reconquest of the Elven homeland... he could not fathom the thought of culling his mother to prevent the extortion of her secrets. Perhaps because he'd never really had parents, like she had... though clearly they did not last.

"Do you miss her?" he questioned.

"No," responded Eloise, the woman picking at a lone seam that had escaped from the embroidery of her dress. It was, perhaps, unbecoming of such a regal woman... though he had the feeling she only allowed herself to appear unnerved. "I miss her as one would a scab. I picked her away, and something else grew in her place. New troubles, but from her endless attempt at my utilization for her own class mobility, I escaped. And eventually, the wound altogether healed. I am glad she died, though it was with an assassin's hand, and not my own. Even then, I had to learn to use her death to invoke sympathy for myself, and so I could not be implicated in her demise. Such is the Candor, dear Ebon Knight. You will never learn to be so cruel, but in Melitene, we will teach you how to effectively be kind."

The Siltori stretched out his calves, and yawned, raising his arms over his head as they outstretched towards the ceiling. He felt the slightest touch of cold air upon his abdomen as he stretched, only to quickly normalize. The Ebon Knight looked upon the woman before him, filled with mystery as she was. The Umpire of the Covenant, a Valran. He wondered what her endgame was, the purpose for forging such a group. Her own political gain? It did not make sense -- she focused little of the resources of the group upon her own endeavors, or so it appeared. She had to have been, or so he thought, purely ideological.

But then... she played the game, and she played it ruthlessly. If she had been so moral, would she have allowed the Candor to push her towards murdering her own mother? He wondered how long ago that may have been; how much could one change in the span of so many years?

"I am ready for the next lesson, tomorrow," he said softly.

"Good," the woman replied. "Be here early. And--"

"First, I want to see Riven," the Siltori amended his prior statement. "Will you... portal me into the city? And then bring me back when I ask -- somehow? Perhaps... perhaps through Window," he gleamed.

"I don't believe your Window ill go quite far enough, dear. But -- yes. But after that..."

"Yes, yes," the initiate repeated, rolling his eyes. "Aetheric Redirection. Understood."

[Etro]

♅ The Rift: V ♅

XP: 5 {Can be used for Transposition}

Pieces of knowledge:

• Transposition: Practice and Persistence
• Transposition: Properly Bending Space
• Transposition: Forming Structurally Sound Portals
• Investigation: Determining hesitation
• Investigation: Discovering one's moral integrity
• Investigation: Seeking intentions

Comments: This was a deep look into both characters. To see Eloise so vulnerable about her past and her mother, and to see the genuine concern from Taelain is adorable. Good job and excellent writing