The wax and wane of a field provided insight into the mind of its possessor. Eirik Maste knew his reign over the mona that permeated about his being was unpractised, but it was purposely so. The galdor felt the offense whenever he'd attempt to do so. He nearly heard the whine of the monic presence about him when he brought it closer to his frame. While suppressing a field wasn't a permanently damaging thing, the galdor had come to realize that it was further friction, a wholly different inertia that jeapordized what was by far the most important relationship a galdor could have.
This pairing really was a cruel sort of joke. But, at the very least, Melody is competent. The rest would heckle me and then sit back and just let me do all the work. Lazy sacks of--
Cut off by Melody's sudden question, the Maste ruminated on it for a long moment. In one hand there was the cobra, the sarcastic jab that threatened to bite at Melody. He felt the waxing frustration with feeling her intrusive presence poking at his field, trying to ascertain his emotions. It'd come easily to her, the inkling annoyance embedded with hints of appreciation. Without much time to ascertain, Melody had gotten an accurate representation of the situation. She asked him to verify her concerns, and at the very least that sort of intuition required acknowledgment. Even if he didn't compliment it in the slightest.
"It's not normal? But also not unheard of. I bet Sonfield wants to get day drunk while no one's watching," he answered, eliciting a soft chuckle from himself.
I'm the only one to laugh at my jokes, he mused, his mind adrift and his senses not picking up whether she did or didn't at all. He continued to pore over the pages of his grimoire, careful with the parchment so as to not tear the fragile and valuable information. When he uttered his jibe, he looked away from Melody, but listened avidly to her suggestions as he shifted his attention to the grimoire. True to form, once Melody got to speaking she didn't seem capable of stopping. Her thoughts were an outpour, providing a redundant explanation of what fission spells were.
Eirik debated showing his disapproval but decided in the interest of their working together to be civil. Dare he say it, even nice? He put on his best smile, though it quickly shifted to a grimace as he felt the cough settling in his throat. He hacked twice, covering his mouth and looking away from the elder student before pulling up the fabric of his coat. Monite poured from the young sorcerer's lips as Melody continued to speak, her thoughts coming to their inevitable close as he looked towards the ground. He wove his spell carefully, entreating the mona with sweet cadences. He felt the twitch of his fingertips, his focus set on the white mottled earth. The padded snow began to thin as Eirik wove his machinations. White powder matted into a thin sheet of ice lifted up from the ground and shaped into a perfect square.
He held his spell in upkeep as he began to answer Melody's concerns, one by one.
"We don't need materials when we have an environment to make into our subject."
Eirik shifted his attention back towards the ice, the Monite shifting in tone as more specific additions to the existing spellcraft was made. The ice, moulded to the perceived consistency of glass was cut in perfect halves. There was no hint of breakage as Eirik's spell separated the halves to further demonstrate his point. He reached up, taking the half closest to his hand as the other fell to the floor and shattered upon impact.
"However, we're meant to show Sonfield the fruits of our work, meaning we aren't going to find some kind of big boulder and lug it into the classroom. We can, however, use this," he told her. Eirik reached into his rucksack, allowing the rest of the ice to fall to the floor and shatter, liquid water seeping into the snow as Eirik ended his spell entirely. How he relished casting, doing so when a purely vocal representation might have sufficed. When Eirik found what he wanted, he pulled a perfectly round, glass orb stained with a delicate expanse of crimson wisps in the center from his rucksack. He released the sack next, letting it fall to the floor as he demonstrated to Melody the item she'd given to him in their previous meeting.
"You'll recognize it, of course. Very useful, and as you noted last time, a perfect tool for us to use in this sort of experimental magic, yes? Ice, while another good material to take advantage of might just melt inside while we present our findings," he continued, cocking his head just slightly before he allowed himself to add,
"Simply cutting things into geometric shapes seems a bit basic, too? You're right, though. That all would satisfy the requirements of our exercise, but... isn't fission more accurately represented in the form of molecular decomposition? Cutting something in half when compared to shredding it and re-solidifying it... I think we'd earn top marks if we show that," he told her with a grin. Melody's ideas had segued into Eirik's conclusion, and he decided to demonstrate. While he held the glass in his hand, he began to incant Monite.
Cracks began to form within the glass orb, the material wrenched apart before bursting within his palm. Rather than the glass flying about, Eirik seemed to use no 'force' in his ministrations, prying the glass apart so that the pieces in suspension spun in his hand for a moment. The red-mottled glass within the very core gleamed in the white light of the sun before he completed his incantation and the orb was fully intact once again.
"That was a bit of a mouthful," he mused, allowing his jaw to slacken as he spun the glass orb in his hand. Unbridled joy was present upon the boy's features before he raised and lowered his hand, demonstrating that he was about to toss the orb at the elder student before he did not a moment after.