40th of Frost, Year 119
Eloise began by explaining the Stream. A flow of aether connecting two Nodes; one could draw from a naturally occurring current, or create their own. The Stream forces the two Nodes to collide by folding within itself, drawing them to the same space where they meet. As a result, the portal is created from the energetic collision, the tear forming immediately after their touch.
"Repeat what the Anchor is to me," the woman commanded. Taelian suddenly appeared nervous; perhaps skittish. He bit his lower lip and paused.
"I... ah, I'm the Anchor, right? I lock the two Nodes in place, and u-uh... the portal. So that nothing moves out of its intended space; that's important, right? I, as the Anchor, also feed the portal and sustain it as it persists," he explained. Eloise smiled faintly.
Which, he supposed meant she was pleased. She did not often state her pleasure when mentoring -- perhaps it was due to her ever-present theme of humility, as in the woman's view a mage's hubris was their downfall. She did not want Taelian to believe that he was all too talented, though he knew by the fact that she was acting as his direct mentor, that he was.
"Node, Stream and Anchor: these are the three fundamental elements of Transposition. Without them, the magic does not function, and portals cannot be cast. As a new Transpositioner, your focus as a novice should always be these three foundational aspects. To accurately perform any of the abilities I intend to teach you, you must properly channel Nodes, the Streams that connect and collide them, and the Anchor that powers their release and continued blend with the fabric of our space."
He nodded. The mage felt he understood well enough, though he had attempted earlier to form proper Streams and his attempts did not appear to be fruitful. Thus, the conversation. He attempted again, focusing on his 'spatial perception', his instincts peering outward until he felt he could visibly view the currents of aether surrounding them. He amassed clusters of aether in two points, creating Nodes, only to seemingly 'catch' onto a mobile current of aether that happened to breeze between them. He refined the fledgling Stream, or he thought he did, and through it he connected the two Nodes.
Taelian grimaced. He attempted to contort and fold the Stream, though it was difficult. The entire process was taxing on his mind; he felt... tired.
"It's... frustrating," the Siltori declared. Eloise stared blankly, not indulging his complaints. Taelian continued to focus until eventually he managed to force the Stream to fold on itself and he felt the two Nodes begin to rapidly come together, colliding. He sought to channel aether into the collision through his Anchor, but he had no concept of the abilities of the magic and had nothing in mind to shape the volatile space into. Instead all that came of it was a reverberating spark of flustered aether that appeared to twist and bend space for a moment, violently, before receding as the space before him corrected itself.
"Good form," Eloise eventually praised. "Again, Taelian. This time... attempt to form a small hole and keep it. After that, we will break for the evening. Lethiril has made us a desirable meal."
