The platinum blonde stood on the soft grass of the Cloister, breathing even, drawing in her field. Her pale blue eyes focused on her opponent with cold intensity, all emotions put aside. She was here to practice her Level Two Living magic, confident in her own abilities that she could do this. She'd already spent yesterday and last night studying grimoires borrowed from both the Library and the Crypts, not to mention convincing her opponent to meet her here this morning. Opening the grimore in her hand, she looked down, then focused her field on the figure ahead of her, starting at the beginning of the book, speaking the monite for Hibernate.

Nauleth honestly enjoyed sleeping in until lunch, especially since he had taken on the extra burden of three hall mates' homework assignments until the end of the month. He would've really still been in bed had it not been for Athrym's request to throw spells at him. It was, unfortunately, an invitation impossible to resist. He'd requested the Cloister instead of the Lawn because, for once, this wasn't a duel. It was clocking studying.

Mostly.

Really.

Kind of.

The dark-eyed boy was a little unsure as to what, exactly, he'd agreed to. As the blonde gathered her field and began to cast, left side of his face faintly tingling in response to the growing motion of the Living mona between them. Naul had kept most of his post-trial experience with Fidelia to himself, having sort of forgotten to ever mention he'd successfully cast his first real Counterspell. Really, the runoff had left the success almost not worth talking about, and he'd spent some time re-reading the spell in studious, slightly (okay, very) competitive preparation for this very practice opportunity with his lovely, competent girlfriend.

Besides, showing was better than telling in this case.

With a lopsided grin, the boy gathered his own field and began to recite the monite for Counterspell from memory, this time doing his best not to stumble over words that weren't as unfamiliar as they had once been.

The force of the spell was powerful, despite Athrym's inexperience with it; the air around them rippled. As she finished the complex spell, Nauleth's limbs began to feel sluggish, and a thick tingling sensation wormed its way around in his feet and hands. They felt fat, full of blood. But his spellcasting was not yet interrupted, and the universal Counterspell he was employing was simpler than Hibernate; his experience with it didn't hurt, either.

Technically, it worked. It stopped the advance of Hibernate's effects, but the same runoff problem occurred. Some tiny error in his phrasing or timing caused a strange side effect; his mouth seemed to become sticky, and it glued shut without warning, like he had just eaten a large glob of paste.

Athrym felt a fluttering, warm wind as the effect of his spell passed over her; another random effect filled her with a sudden burst of serotonin. She felt immediately happy, giddy even; it was an instantaneous euphoria.

Athrym gasped, before bursting out with a delighted laugh and putting a hand to her head.

"Clocking hell! Did you get that?! Oh my goddess!" She laughed again, unbelievably happy. Grinning at Naul, she giggled.

"Are you alright?"

Well, the Counterspell worked. It seemed.

He was awake anyway.

The boy brought his hands up slowly to under his chin, willing them to move in their tingling grogginess. His fingers, though not actually swollen, carefully folded towards his palms and he lifted his thumbs. Then, one side before the other, he attempted a grin.

In Naul's excited mind, his answer went as so:

Yes, I clocking well got it, and of course I'm fine.

However, the only thing that really happened was a jumble of unusual and totally unexpected sounds from a mouth that refused to open.

Awkward silence ensued and the boy's grin faded into a disturbed, thoughtful scowl. While he was grateful he was neither unconscious nor bleeding, Naul would have preferred to also be speaking. Success was supposed to be exciting. He grunted, and it was very obvious that whatever word he'd preferred to have been saying out loud was best left confined behind his very stuck lips.

This was still admittedly a slightly better result than last time.

Possibly.

No, not really.

Damn it.

Nauleth stood there and blinked, lowering his hands from his face and rubbing them together as if to wake them up from sleep. He gave the blonde a look that was both helpless and confused.

Now what?

The blonde couldn't help it. She laughed. Not just a laugh, it was an explosion of laughter, leaning on her knee, holding her stomach, gasping for breath. After a few moments, she straightened and tried to calm down, finally achieved after a few more bursts of giggles.

"Okay, okay. What on Vita did you do? Oh, nevermind...let me try this." Taking a calming breath, she pulled in her field again, turning it on Nauleth and pushing it out, enveloping him. Turning to the back of the grimoire, she began to recite the monite for Counterspell, hoping it would ease off the backlash. She wanted to do more spells!

The particular side effect that had affected Nauleth was merely a physiological response to fractures in the spell verse; the effect was not at all magical, and the spell did nothing to counteract it.

A few other students had begun to notice, and were giggling. Most of them seemed in good humor; a few boys even called out to Nauleth, offering colorful solutions to his lockjaw problem, but a particularly nasty girl in the seventh form was whispering to a group of younger hangers-on, and all of them chuckled nastily at Athrym. However, the serotonin was still going strong, and the catty behavior didn't affect her mood balance at all.

The dark-eyed boy scowled at Athrym's laughter, helpless to say anything about it in his own defense. He might have deserved it, but still. His scowl darkened as she began to cast again and he raised his hands in a dismissive gesture, mumbling something obviously incomprehensible.

When nothing happened, he sighed and closed his eyes to think, trying to tune out the extra noise of unwanted advice and commentary. He stopped rubbing his hands together, sliding them into his pockets and trying not to grind his teeth as he turned over both his casting and its results in his mind.

It was then that he had a most disturbing thought.


While the boy knew that without speaking, he couldn't cast, it slowly dawned on him that he didn't necessarily need to speak to communicate. Apparently. Supposedly. He'd already experienced just how tuned into intentions the mona could be, and while his most severe backlash had been quite some time ago, he wasn't even sure if this was really a similar issue or not.

If it really is the same. Naul thought to himself, Then if I said something wrong, I should be able to apologize in my head, right? Right? Are you listening? Oh, this is clocking ridiculous. Are my brain and the rock really so similar?

Eyes still closed, his shoulders relaxed and he just stood there, still and quiet. Waiting, trying desperately not to run over the spell in his mind for the millionth time.

You know, the boy thought, still with an almost childish curiosity as to whether or not the mona really could hear him, I'm never going to get it right if I can't try again.

He might have smiled to himself, calming down a little, though still agitated under the watch of others.

There is a school of thought that says that thoughts themselves are written in the original language, the language before language, before Monite and before Estuan were formed; we perceive them in our native tongue because we are used to hearing it, but in reality they are formless, shifting, volatile and utterly basic.

Nauleth recalled other teachers mentioning this in their lectures when they explained what it felt like to know one's true name. The syllable, the first syllable uttered by the brain when one becomes conscious, held more raw power than any man-made spell. To cast without speaking, to communicate without worrying about being understood - it was a power that most students lusted after.

Whether by divine inspiration or fortuitous circumstance, the side effect of the lockjaw had begun to wear off, and as Nauleth pleaded with the mona inside his head, he felt his jaw loosen and his teeth unclench as if by...magic.

"Ha!"

Naul stood there and blinked, startled by his own voice.

"Wait."

He reached up and rubbed his face, forcing his mouth to move without speaking, making several strange facial expressions. Then, the boy just stared at Athrym, processing possibilities as shock slowly registered across his features, one side at a time. He closed the distance between them, hands moving from his pockets to the blonde's shoulders with remarkable, excited speed, resting warmly on her person, trembling slightly. His eyes were full of a calculating, fiery sort of spark,

"Clocking brilliant!" Naul breathed, grinning stupidly, entirely unconcerned about an audience with his outburst, "Something entirely insane just happened!"

Athrym ignored the laughter and whispering. She honestly didn't care, at all. Somewhere in her euphoric delight, she knew that it was the sort of behavior she should melt the stupid girls face off for...but..she didn't care. Grinning like an idiot, she shrugged as Counterspell did..nothing. Well, at least she'd tried. Covering her hand, she tried not to laugh watching the peculiar expression on Naul's face. The effect must have worn off, because suddenly, he spoke. Then without warning, he rushed to her, shaky hands on her shoulders. The blonde laughed.

"Woah! Hang on! I don't think it was my-"



The insanely happy galdor bounced up and down excitedly and laughed, going slightly red in the face.

"I know! I can't stop laughing!" She declared between giggles.

"Well, you giddy is ... kind of cute, and reminds me of—never mind." He grinned, lopsided and suggestive for a moment, then chuckled, "Anyway ..."

Naul tried to bring things together in his mind; there were too many thoughts going on at once. Had something different, unusual, and unexpected really just happened? Or had it just been runoff, draining away? Which was it? If it had been more than just waiting it out, if something had happened in his mind, the boy couldn't help but feel stupidly empowered, shocked, and yet hungry for more.

"I don't think it was your spell, either. I think it was something ... else." His expression was something between serious and disturbed, excited and afraid. He paused for emphasis, biting his bottom lip,

"Something unspoken."

The platinum blonde took a few deep breaths, trying to be more excited and less ridiculous. She was still grinning as she spoke.

"Unspoken? Naul, are you trying to say you cast without speaking?" She knew the gravity of that mere statement, you just couldn't do that. Not until you found your True Name...right? Biting back a giggle, she cursed. This extreme high was starting to be a pain.

"I'm not going to go so far as to say cast, no." Naul replied quickly with obvious trepidation, "I think that's going too far. But, I have a feeling that there's a point in real communication where ... where ... those distinctions stop being as meaningful as we're told they are."

He withdrew a hand from Athrym's shoulder to rub the back of his neck uneasily, looking at his feet for a moment in thought, "The first time I cast Counterspell was the day we got back from the Circus. In front of the dorm—I know, I should tell you about that ." He coughed, shifting uncomfortably with the admission that some interesting things had happened on that difficult morning, "The runoff was bad, and I was only mostly successful. This time, I think I misspoke, or at least still didn't get my phrasing right. I don't know if that was runoff or backlash or both, but I couldn't speak. It was like everything got stuck."

The boy looked up, voice growing quieter and more distant, as if he was thinking as he spoke, "I don't think your Counterspell worked because there was no real magic ... but that didn't mean it didn't have anything to do with the mona."

He blinked, "If that makes sense."

Shrugging, he continued, starting to mumble as he lost steam and began to doubt himself, "I just started ... um ... thinking ... like talking. In my head. Not to myself, but to ... them. The mona. Sort of. And something happened. I think. Maybe. Or, I'm just seeing what I want to."

Naul smirked, meeting the blonde's gaze, "When I met with Professor Lux in her office, I think she melted my brain a little. However, I now feel as though there is a lot more beyond what we are being told, even here, about magic. Whatever happened, it was part of that 'more' no one talks to us about."

This was serious talk. This required seriousness. Right now, all Athrym could manage was extreme happiness and ridiculous excitement. It didn't seem to be wearing off. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to concentrate around the giddiness. Something needed to..ease off...calm down. Anesthetic could do that, but...she didn't want to just go to sleep. It was more like she needed to come off a chemical high, a bit like alcohol. If she recalled biology correctly, there was a chemical in your brain that made you happy. Opening her eyes, she stifled a giggle and looked at Naul.

"I want to talk about this, but you have to help me. Can you...I need you to cast Anesthetic on me. But, you need to modify it a bit. Ask the mona to turn off the part of my brain that is releasing...happy chemicals." The platinum blonde laughed again at that. Reaching up, she squeezed his shoulder.

"Help me."

Nauleth had totally not realized this was an actual problem Athrym was having, so distracted was he with his own. Her expression and rather out of place laughter finally caught up to the boy when she squeezed his shoulder.

"Me?"

Oh gods, isn't that asking for trouble?

He smirked, finding this an altogether unexpected way to practice much of anything, "Alright, but if you wake up later back in your dorm, don't be mad at me." The dark-eyed boy managed a wry grin, "Especially if I'm not still there."

Naul let his humor be a cover for his suddenly busy thoughts. Closing his eyes briefly, he ran over the monite for Anesthetic in his mind, breaking down the stanzas, considering where to insert his modified phrases as a new part of the spell. He tried not to be side-trekked by his own experiences, realizing that his intentions and attention was more important than he often gave credit to.

Gathering his field, he opened his eyes and met the blonde's evenly, speaking his modified spell with a very calculated sort of care, focusing on his request of specificity in the effects the mona chose to have on Athrym's brain. He did not bother to hide his personal concern for the girl in his intonation, but Naul also was careful not to slip into anything as informal as his previous internal thought process had been.

Nauleth's luck seemed to have changed, at least for the moment; the spell went off without a hitch. The serotonin in Athrym's brain became inhibited, slowed to a molasses pace, and the result was a near-instantaneous feeling of dullness and depression. The spell's side effect had ended prematurely, but it was not a pleasant cure. Athrym felt a sudden rush of despondency, tiredness, and a stunning headache.

Nearby, the group of students who had been giggling at Athrym and Nauleth found this terribly amusing. One of them, a near-graduate who could understand Monite quite well, was beside himself with schadenfreude.

"Complex medical spells are best left to the professionals," he said loudly to his friends, in a snide, carrying voice that almost guaranteed that he would have a job in management when he left school. "She's going to be feeling that for a while. Good job we've got a break coming, she'll have plenty of time to mope." His friends chortled meanly.

((jerk onlookers are jerks))

Damnit.

"I'm clocking sure I can come up with something far worse for you to recover from over break if you'd like." Nauleth hissed threateningly, unintimidated, remembering he still had a temper. It wasn't bravado, but it was definitely a flash of his older, more malicious self. The rush of something strange and exciting, the inkling of a familiar hunger for dominance or power, and, well, there he was again, ready to drop students on their ass on the Lawn ... or Cloister, as it were, "And moping will be the least of your problems."

His hands found his pockets and he grinned with lopsided haughtiness at the hecklers; and though he hadn't at all forgotten about Athrym and her now no less improved condition, the spark of challenge was a terrible distraction for the dark-eyed boy.

Naul glanced at Athrym, briefly considering the Infirmary as an alternative to furthering his uninhibited aggression. His grin faded a little, expression falling into something between apologetic and angry. He mumbled quietly, "Gods, I'm sorry."

Upon closer inspection, Nauleth could see that the man was what passed for a meathead among the galdori; the less-than-cerebral slope of his forehead probably belied a focused, simplistic intelligence that he used to wow his teachers and suck up to people in power.

"No thanks," said the older boy, still smiling but with a challenging glint in his eye. He turned to walk away, hands in his pockets. "I don't like sloppy seconds."

Even his sycophantic friends looked slightly shocked at the caliber of the insult. They backed up, perhaps expecting some sort of explosion. What he had said probably hinted at the nature of the rumors that had been circling ever since Athrym's expulsion hearing; the looks on his friends' faces confirmed this, but even they felt that he had gone a bit too far.

"Come on, Ecks," said one of them nervously. "Let's go, we'll be late for class..."

((Sorry for practically double-posting. I'm still at work, waiting for my ride and I couldn't resist. Please note that Mr. T says, "I pity the foo'." ))

If there was any one thing Naul most certainly was not, it was gallant. Nor had he, in any memory, ever aspired to be so. Dashing, dangerous, or even devious, yes; but chivalrous, definitely not. However, the boy had boundaries of acceptable behavior when it came to pissing on things that were somehow his or people whom he had somehow come to care about. It wasn't like he was completely unaware of the rumor-mongering he'd invited, either.

Where he'd once perhaps exploded in uninhibited, insulted frustration, Naul simply collected his thoughts and gathered his tangibly simmering field. He realized with subtle pleasure that despite some of his more internal, personal changes, he'd not been entirely tamed by his own feelings for the blonde.

"Clock that," he seethed, "I'm sure your professors will understand why you're all in the Infirmary."

The dark-eyed boy's voice was grating and hard-edged, and he slid his hands from his pockets, officially threatening, "If someone else is kind enough to pick you up and take you there once we're through, that is."

Naul flashed Athrym a wolfish grin from under his white-streaked bangs—an open invitation to cast together—anticipating the unrestrained displeasure that the older student's pointed insult would entice in her. Without waiting for a response from either party, however, he turned and focused on the mouthiest of the bunch. Remembering his own discomfort the morning of their return from the Circus under Fidelia's own casting, he kept his grin as he spoke the monite for Rigor, giving into the temptation to weave in a gentle nudge of a Push spell as an ornery follow-up, a left hook to his magical punch.

The utter desolation after the spell was not at all what the blonde had expected. She gasped softly at the horrible thoughts that suddenly filled her head. How could she go on with life when it was so pointless. Everyone hated her, she was ugly, used, broken. Her body was damaged and her brain was a mess. The teachers didn't want her here. The students laughed and mocked her. She was a pitiful excuse for a galdor, scared of humans. Scared of worthless pigs snuffling in the streets for scraps of sympathy. Athrym felt tears spring to her eyes, but she was so tired. Too tired to cry. And her head hurt so badly. Closing her eyes, she put both hands on her head. In severe pain.



Vaguely, she heard the insult. Opening her eyes, she glared at the boy for a moment, but the violent throb in her temple was almost incapacitating.



She knew he'd said something to the boy, but she only caught the apology. The platinum blonde shook her head.

"Don't be. It's okay. Why don't we go talk somewhere...seated." Athrym tried to act positive. But it was so hard. She was so tired, so sad...



The throb in her temple was a thousand times worse. Anger flared through her body and forced a sort of adrenaline rush through her. Gritting her teeth, she locked her frigid gaze on the insulting boy. The rumors in this school were getting out of hand. How did they even get their information.



She caught his smile out of the corner of her gaze. Wanted to help. Her temple felt like someone was stabbing her and twisting the knife. Pulling her field in, she turned it towards the retreating boy, listening as Nauleth spoke the monite for Rigor and Push. Anger fueling her and over riding the depression and exhaustion she knew would claim her when it was over, she added her words to his own, knowing the one spell she could recite without fail, her kneejerk response. Forcing her field out at Ecks with a violent sort of shove, she cast Pain.

((haha all riiight here we go.. *gets out her dice*))

If there is one thing that can be said against statements of intent to harm, it is that they give evil people plenty of time to prepare for an inevitable strike. The so-called Ecks had already begun to mutter a Barrier spell while Nauleth had been talking. Two of his friends had abandoned him, muttering something about a study group, but another two had stuck around, perhaps to curry favor with the older boy in hopes of getting a job getting him coffee one day.

Pain was a quicker cast than Rigor, so the two set off at relatively the same moment; Athrym's spell was far simpler and she was adept at casting it by now, and it was strong. The Barrier was invisible, but ripped through the Push spell like it was tissue paper. Still, it was less effective against Living Magic; both the Rigor and the Pain spells set in before Ecks could get off a strong Counterspell, passing through the Barrier without a problem.

Ecks went rigid as a wooden board and screamed as he fell forward, causing everyone in the Cloister to watch with rapt attention as his friends rallied against Athrym and Nauleth. The boy on the left immediately set about countering the effects of the two Living spells, his back to the Barrier, which was already weakening as Ecks began to lose concentration. Ecks was clearly in a lot of pain, and his focus was Physical magic; he had not learned the complex art of resisting Living magic, and it affected him quite strongly.

The right boy, a scrawny tow-headed boy called Philip, whipped off an Ashes spell and aimed for Nauleth's eyes. It just barely hit him, the stream of carbon dust temporarily blinding him in a fog of blackness, but it missed Athrym. But the spell was quick, only two syllables, and he was able to follow it up with a quick Calm spell aimed at both Nauleth and Athrym.

The air felt like thick taffy as the spell caught hold of Nauleth's mind and seemed to fill his brain with warm liquid. He felt immediately at peace; the thought of fighting flew from his head as pleasanter images of Athrym swam in front of his vision. But despite this lack of will to destroy the three bullies, he remained self-aware; perhaps in self-defense, his brain prodded him to recall the lecture on Calming spells, and the fact that they could be resisted. His brain was also acutely aware of the stinging ash obscuring his vision.

Once again, the spell totally failed to affect Athrym; she felt a slight glance as it passed her over. It had backfired, but only a small amount. Philip felt a stinging sensation in his right hand and let out a yelp.

Naul would've liked to enjoy the sight of his success with Rigor, but the searing, blurring pain of Ash in his eyes sure did place limitations on his ability to gloat. Then again, the suddenly out-of-place fuzzy, warm pleasantness was terribly distracting as well. For a moment in the chaos, the dark-eyed boy allowed himself to be caught up in random, non-combatant niceties ... rather fresh and lovely recent memories drifted by for what felt like too long. Reaching up to rub his burning eyes, the nagging feeling in the base of his skull protested loudly—all those attractive images were just very much stepped on by a particularly mouthy boy.

Oh, right. Stopclocker. Shake it off.

Naul couldn't let that asshat get away with that level of insult. Not today. Not ever. He struggled to bring his thoughts and frustration back into focus. These boys needed a lesson, not a clocking group hug. Still blinking under the lingering painful blurriness of the Ash, the boy attempted to resist the soothing effects of Calm by allowing the same pleasant thoughts to remind him of exactly why these boys deserved a bit of suffering.

If he couldn't bring himself to outright hurt these clocking hecklers, then the least he could do would be to distract them.

He regathered his field and immediately turned is attention on the boy who had attempted to blind him, acting quickly despite the lag in his temper. He spoke the monite for Dullness, hoping to slow Philip down and give him a chance to hit the offending boys with something harder. As he finished speaking, he shifted his focus and gave into the temptation to heat things up. He folded the short, quick monite for Magma into the end of his casting, aiming directly for the Barrier (and, more specifically, the student attempting to counter for Ecks with his back turned behind it), again intending both spells to work together as a distraction to buy more time.

((forgive me Nauleth!!))

The platinum blonde felt an almost chilling delight in the offensive boy's screams, her temple threatening to explode. Her anger abated somewhat, satisfied that she'd done what she'd needed to do. But then the scrawny youth was casting at them. A burst of Ash seemed to catch Naul slightly, whilst missing her - just. Almost immediately, he'd thrown a Calm spell at them. It served to do nothing but annoy the girl. She trained her icy glare on the boy, but Naul was already casting Dullness on the boy, and her anger began to dissipate, the depression and the tiredness beginning to return. She could feel the violent anger surging in Nauleth's own field and somewhere in her head, she felt flattered. But then he began to intone a different spell, aimed at the youth helping Ecks. Magma. A fiery spell that could cause very real and very serious injury. She didn't give a damn about the offending boy, but she did care about Naul. And his life at Brunnhold.

"No Naul!" She gasped, throwing her field between the salt and pepper haired boy and the hecklers. Speaking quickly, she cast Wall, hoping to stop the molten rock before it hit the other boy.