[There's a great deal of difference between his little ice sculptures and frozen patches and this. Even the feel of it, the physical strain. Like struggling to lift a too-heavy rock with bare hands. But a rock that's only a bit too heavy, one that rocks and teases as though it will be lifted.
Under it all, the old fears linger. That he, Mat Cauthon, could truly do anything of note, anything worthy of praise. That he, a fool and a coward, could ever even think to try and wield power like this. It's not for him. Whatever power in him is dark and vile and will use him instead. Like everything else, if he truly touches this power it will turn rotten and dangerous.
But Istredd's words cut through Mat's own insidious inner voice. The honest encouragement there. This man believes in him. All this time teaching him and Istredd believes in him. Fuck everyone who's called him useless or worthless or good for nothing. He'll show them.
Focusing on that, he does his best to follow the instructions. Reach for it. Grab that power he can feel, take it in his metaphorical hands and hold it fast. He calls on every little scrap of advice everyone has ever given him - breathing techniques, visualizations, clearing his mind of everything but the task at hand. His mind struggles against the idea, never easily quieted, but he tries to channel that, too, into his efforts.
With an audible cry of exertion, something clicks into place. Sheer force of will and spite and the push of earnestly offered encouragement and support tip something over. Mat takes the weight of the spell, holding the water himself.
At least until he can't hold on, and his control slips but not the strength of the magic.]
Oh shit!
[It's all Mat has time to get out before it all bursts, water exploding everywhere within the containment of Istredd's shielding.]
no subject
Under it all, the old fears linger. That he, Mat Cauthon, could truly do anything of note, anything worthy of praise. That he, a fool and a coward, could ever even think to try and wield power like this. It's not for him. Whatever power in him is dark and vile and will use him instead. Like everything else, if he truly touches this power it will turn rotten and dangerous.
But Istredd's words cut through Mat's own insidious inner voice. The honest encouragement there. This man believes in him. All this time teaching him and Istredd believes in him. Fuck everyone who's called him useless or worthless or good for nothing. He'll show them.
Focusing on that, he does his best to follow the instructions. Reach for it. Grab that power he can feel, take it in his metaphorical hands and hold it fast. He calls on every little scrap of advice everyone has ever given him - breathing techniques, visualizations, clearing his mind of everything but the task at hand. His mind struggles against the idea, never easily quieted, but he tries to channel that, too, into his efforts.
With an audible cry of exertion, something clicks into place. Sheer force of will and spite and the push of earnestly offered encouragement and support tip something over. Mat takes the weight of the spell, holding the water himself.
At least until he can't hold on, and his control slips but not the strength of the magic.]
Oh shit!
[It's all Mat has time to get out before it all bursts, water exploding everywhere within the containment of Istredd's shielding.]