The Accepted scowled at the pile of dust that had so briefly been a rather pretty flower. "You're probably right," she said to Isla. "It doesn't seem to matter what changes I try to make, I just can't hold enough Earth to match what I have of Air. I've seen other women solve this sort of problem by just handling a smaller amount of Air, but I can't hold Air in any small amount. It's almost like the Air threads want me to use them, and don't want to leave." Amaranie's cheeks flushed red, hearing herself say that. She knew the Five Powers weren't alive, but that was how it felt to her.
She muttered under her breath, "Maybe I just can't do this." It would not be the first weave she had little or no ability to create. Now that she was an Accepted, she'd tried to take classes in a great variety of things, but had shown no particular gift for anything she'd learned so far. It was a great frustration to her, and there were days when Amaranie feared she just wasn't going to be very skilled with anything, and that there was no place for her within the Grey Tower. She studied the ground where her latest failure had grown, feeling defeated.