It was clocking raining. Again. It had been raining...well, for half a month. But still. The sun could show its face for five seconds, couldn't it?

Without fail, though, after her last class, she appeared on the Lawn, rather soaked. Her buns were drooping again. Darnit, but Charlie had stolen all of her bobby pins for something. She couldn't fathom what. She undid her hairstyle, let her soaked hair out. Who cared about appearances right now? Mostly she was hoping her uniform didn't go see-through and show the rather awfully filthy-wick-ish picture on her chest. She contemplated marriage later on in life...would she have to put makeup on it? Would future Mr. Laur accept her drunken folly? Time would just have to tell.

Now where was that Siordanti boy? Would he bring an audience? Did she get an audience? Perhaps Horace would come on her side. Perhaps not. Oh well. Either way, she was ready to go.

After a few more minutes, she began tapping her foot impatiently. There was a small puddle forming around her. Curses. She hated the wet.

((title courtesy of me tif ))

Naul wasn't particularly fond of the rain, either, but he was never one to complain about a challenge when it came to an opportunity to duel. Weather could be an advantage or a disadvantage, after all. He'd come straight for class, the Quantitative professor having lingered too long on a point of theory and keeping everyone later than usual.

Leaving his satchel in the walkway, he wandered out into the Lawn to look for Laureline, already mostly wet from his walk anyway. Hands in his pockets as usual, hair pulled back, the dark-eyed boy considered waiting to see if he'd be joined by anyone else, but he figured the chances were clocking slim, unfortunately. The very thought of what could only be considered a lunch fiasco further soured Naul's mood into something drastically serious and terribly focused.

This was no longer going to be just a recreational activity.

Slowing his pace as he neared the spot the older student stood in without enjoyment, he offered something of a wolfish, lopsidedly distant expression, blinking away some drops from his eyes, "We can reschedule if the weather doesn't suit you, Miss Almond."

At least Naul liked to play at polite when it came to duels; it was always better to appear civil in the beginning, at least. However, niceties this evening would be more than just a little difficult—anything resembling kindness would require an uphill battle with the rest of his dour mood. He was rolling up his sleeves, jacket unbuttoned a few buttons, preparing with a methodology that suggested regular habit.

"Otherwise, do you have any rules you'd like to request followed?"

"I am not some fragile child. I can handle a bit of rain to get this over with. As for rules, I'd rather you didn't do anything that would exclude me from graduating. Such as killing or maiming me horrifically. If there's anything you'd like to add, since you're the younger party here, I'll allow it."

She stood rather tall in her puddle--as tall and dignified as one could look while rather soaked with one's hair hanging wet down to their waist and one's skirt drooping, with a possible hint of ink above a corset showing through the light part of one's uniform. Hopefully the green would turn the pink brown and it would look rather like a birthmark. Laur wondered if anyone would be attending on her side. She was doubtful of it. She had no real friends, none at all.

Clocking hell.

"Well, as long as you don't give any speeches about respecting one's elders, I think we'll be fine." Snorted the dark-eyed boy haughtily, "I don't have any rules. You're free to cry at any time, as far as I'm concerned."

His thin lips curled into a hint of a grin, one side before the other, already gathering his field. Naul wasn't about to give Laur an opportunity to get the jump on him, after all.

Ladies first, my ass.

Glancing briefly at the older student's puddle, Nauleth's grin slowly, calculatingly widened into something slightly disquieting. He hadn't flexed his intermediate wings much since practice in the Cloister and he was well aware of the thought-altering implications of all his time spent with Professor Lux. Hands moving briefly along with his voice, he focused on the collection of rainwater around Laureline, intoning the monite for Frostbite, intending to simply turn the puddles surrounding her into ice, yet careful to keep his wording and his will specific, lest the dark-haired girl be harmed by the mona's response.

(( Ok, since you're both older students, I decided to use some dice rolls to keep things fair. Laureline hasn't had a chance to build up AM, so it seemed the best way... This is my round about way of saying Nauleth rolled a 1... ))

Nauleth was capable of intermediate magic, though not entirely used to it yet. Frostbite was not his usual duelling fair and an unfortunately misspronounced syllable meant that his spell was exceedingly successful. More successful than he'd actually wanted it to be. His field thrummed, as though wondering why he would want to freeze all the puddles within a five metre radius but the mona complied. Luckily, it also complied to his desire not to freeze Laureline herself.

Nauleth's shoe's were frozen to the ground. Laureline was not as badly affected, it was just the sodden back of her dress that was caught. Nauleth couldn't tell if he was experiencing any after-affects of the spell since he was now too cold. Both of them were. The rain had gone from pleasantly cool to freezing and they were both looking down a long tunnel that ended in the land of hypothermia.

A student with an umbrella happened to walk past and stopped. She glanced at Nauleth and then glanced again. She began to laugh, raucously.

"Good job, Mr Siordanti." She said, faking sincerity. "Oh I have to call all my friends to see this."

He may not have recognised her. It was Felicity Dunpeaty.

(audience you say? fantastic idea!)

Athrym had sulked. A lot. She'd spent time in her dorm, she'd cried, she'd thrown and broken things, and she'd also thought. What had provoked her? What had made her so angry? Sure, she'd had that annoying incident on the 12th with Stephanie and Alisoina...that already had her wound up. Then of course Naul and his secret. That was really really getting to her. And of course, there was Laur and her pretty presence. Then Angus and his 'I'm the King of Everyone' attempt to make their small group into a sudden social club.

And yet, everyone still expected her to be perfect. To fit. It was stressful, and it was hard. Even now, as she looked at her blackened eye in the mirror, she found herself seething with anger. Why should she bother, why should she even go?

Because even though Naul made her angry, everyone made her angry, she loved him. Sighing, she pulled on her thick blue cloak, pulling up the hood, and made her way out of the dorms, picking up one of the student umbrella's on the way out.

Taking her time strolling to the Lawn, she thought back on lunch. Why had the mona reacted so badly in this instance, where they had been so good with her before? It didn't make sense. She would have to think about it more, alone. When her head was less muddled.

Arriving at the Lawn, she heard a peal of laughter. Glancing up from her entranced gaze at the grass before her, she frowned, looking first at the girl running off with a gleeful comment, then to the scene before her. Nauleth was...frozen? As was the ground. As was some of Laur's dress. What kind of attack was that? Moving to one of the tall willow tree's that surrounded the Lawn, she watched the duel, unwilling to go any closer, still upset at Naul and unsure of what he had to say to her.

She had felt the mona start to comply to Siordanti's Frostbite spell, and had been momentarily curious, but when she saw the results, she began to...chuckle. Chuckle was the correct word for it. Laur's laugh could barely be heard, especially over the other people on the Lawn, but it was clear she was laughing, or else shaking from hypothermia. "...Fail."

Casting would probably be a good idea, while he was stuck in place. She, however, would not be going for level two just yet; instead, she cast Push, intending to just simply knock him over while he was stuck in place. She'd pull out the big guns later. Now was not the time to be showing off, really. Stupid boy.

Normally, Naul would've been clocking pissed, but as he briefly surveyed the extent of the reach of his rather miscast spell, he couldn't help but be strangely satisfied with the results. His life as of late, it seemed, was slowly becoming one very encompassing experiment—love and magic being the primary catalysts. As always, the potential was there, especially in failure.

"Well, isn't this turning into more of a clocking practice session than I'd really intended?" He sneered at Laur, refusing to return a comment toward his audience.

Scowling in his still-present dissatisfaction, the dark-eyed boy was not pleased to be stuck and even less clocking pleased to have Felicity or anyone else as a heckler.

The words for Push were quick and familiar and Naul didn't have to think twice about what they meant for himself if he wasn't fast enough in the godsbedamned cold. Thin, now-blue lips pursing into something almost expressionless, he regathered his field and attempted to refocus despite his interest in analyzing what had gone wrong. Returning to somewhat safer, more familiar territory for the Lawn, he sought to cast Dullness at Laureline before her spell reached him, unsure if he'd be capable of remaining balanced once hit.

Push was the quickest, simplest spell in the galdori handbook. Casting Dullness was normally an excellent move against another spellcaster, it just wasn't able to even start before Laureline's syllable was completed and Nauleth had fallen over. It was not a pleasant fall. The ice was hard and slippery and his well-laced shoes came with him and a large chunk of ice and ground that they had been adhered to. Standing was not going to be easy but at least he hadn't brailed, since the Push spell was so quickly cast. His hands collided with hard ice, small shards poking into his back. He was winded, though only momentarily.

The mona seemed to know that his intent was to try the spell again and he felt his field like a blanket over him. The duel was not over yet but Laureline had the upper hand.

Felicity returned, clutching another girl by the arm, with five or so other students behind. Felicity saw Laureline standing and Nauleth on the ground and burst into to tears. Her friend wrapped her in a hug. Laureline was the only one close enough to hear her say, "I was beginning to think good things never happened to good people!"

Naul probably would've been better off had he seen that coming, but from his disadvantage point on the ground, it was a bit too late to save face. Or ass, really. Alioe, that had stung a little in more than just the metaphorical sense. Rubbing his sore, cold hands together and not making any particular rushed move to get up, he glared at the assembled, sorry excuse for an audience wordlessly, having no clocking clue what they were saying but confident it was probably worth a Lashing to shut them up if he'd felt like bothering. He didn't. They were uninvited, after all.

The dark-eyed boy weighed his options, finding he had nothing even remotely snide worth saying to even Lauraline. Though, of course, he sure as the Circle wished he did.

If he'd intended to cast Dullness again at all, his cold, thoughtful time on the ground changed his mind. Naul needed to buy some time to get up, somehow, and just a single spell wasn't really going to give him as much of a chance as he'd like, considering how stuck he'd gone and gotten himself.

"This is a clocking foul way to finish a clocking ridiculous day," grumbled the boy under his breath, propping himself up on one elbow and huffing loose strands of his white-streaked bangs out of his scowling face. Reaching his other hand out in front of him as if grasping for something that wasn't there, Naul intoned the monite for Pull, numb fingers curling together against his palm as he tugged inward with his whole arm toward his chest, seeking to level the playing field, so to speak, and give Laureline a taste—or at least the sting—of her own spell's results.

Offering the older student a sly, lopsided grin as he spoke, the spell he trailed on the heels of his quick words was not Dullness, however, but Depth Perception.

Laur was very familiar with both of the spells, one being madly basic, one being her discipline and one of her favorites.
"You know, I really don't have all that far down to go. Unlike some beanpoles."
She thought about what to cast. Damn, but he'd just used one of her openers. Going for another old standby, though, she cast Nausea. There was no counterspell for Depth Perception besides Counterspell, right? Could she live with him getting a hit in? She decided that yes, she could. She wasn't going to play with Counterspell right now. It was too finicky. Maybe later. If he threw anything crazy at her...maybe. For now, she was sticking to normal spells, augmenting them as much as possible, of course. She had in quite a bit of independent study in intermediate magic both Living and Perceptive, but some of the spells she was reluctant to try. What if she messed up? In front of this prideful boy? Not acceptable.

(( You all just delight in me writing people throwing up, don't you? ))

Since Nauleth had been slowed down by his fall, Laureline managed to finish casting before he had a chance to start. It was an excellent cast, that would have filled her senses with the scent of smelling salts had she not been too cold to feel anything. Unfortunately for her, Nauleth was used to Nausea. He finished casting before the sensation cut through his numbness. He wanted, needed to vomit. His stomach felt as though it was housing the sea itself during a hurricane.

In the distance, Felicity recognised the spell. She literally jumped onto the back of the nearest boy. He gagged as her arms closed around his throat. One of the girls cheered for Laureline, silently, by raising her arms.

Nauleth's Pull spell was enough to drag Laureline forward several paces but unlike himself, she was not cemented to the ground by her shoes. The skirt of her uniform was. It ripped, loudly, bearing her legs down to the knees.

Their audience gasped. They hadn't seen a knee since they were children. It just wasn't done. The boy currently being dragged down by Felicity was having a dog of a time trying to keep looking at them. Felicity also seemed somewhat gobsmacked.

"You cad!" She cried out, though it was hardly his intention. His shoes were still unusable, since they now came with a coating of ice and dirt that quadrupled their size, at least.

The Depth Perception spell, hot on the heels of other magic, was less effective. It was slowed by his own shaking lips and freezing body. Laureline was slowed by exactly the same ailment. She hadn't fallen yet but it would take a decisive action to determine just how bad that fall would be. Most riders were taught how to fall, duellists were not. The ground flinched, like Laureline's field sometimes flinched. The ice was before her and the ground far away. Only focusing on the ground directly beneath her stopped the effect. Her mind was at least able to compare the objects directly touching her.

They were both freezing to the point of their teeth chattering, placing them both at risk of a brail or a backlash. Naul was fully aware of these consequences, Laureline perhaps not. Being mature students they probably recognised that the limits of their bodies was probably going to impact their magic.

(( I'm giving you a post to fall, Laur, since she doesn't have ice boots to contend with. ))

She of course fell, rolling to attempt to not take it with her knees. She'd fallen a lot as a child, and that hurt badly, and bruised. However, she was furious. Absolutely. As a proper Anaxi woman, one did not show their bare knees in public, ever. Especially not in front of nasty little boys intent on dueling everything that moved. Her drawers were showing, too. It was a good thing she had rather good taste in underwear. He'd ripped her petticoat, though, too, and that had hand-crocheted lace on it. It was clocking expensive. This would not stand.

Laureline landed on the seat of her skirt, saved from too much pain by the fact that she'd at least tried to avoid anything pointy. Her hands burned from hitting the ground but she was otherwise hale. The world was still spinning from the effects of Nauleth's spell.

Nauleth felt his bile rise. If he didn't roll, he was going to vomit upon himself.

Naul was more than visibly disappointed by two things: 1) there was no one nearby to hurl on, and 2) there was no way he was going to be able to get himself anywhere to remedy that fact with all this godsbedamned ice. Strangely enough, it was not the leaning to one side and emptying the contents of his stomach just barely next to where he was sitting that felt damaging to his pride so much as the missed opportunity to put another Nausea spell to good clocking use on the audience. He might have pouted, but chose to wipe his face instead, noting just how cold everything really had become with his spell and the rain.

Sitting up but still not making an effort to stand, Naul brought his knees up to his chest and considered his options, a little color barely hinting on his cheeks from the results of his last casting. The dark-eyed boy seemed to have mind enough not to stare at Laureline; in fact, if there was any remote sign of politeness possible, that was probably all she'd ever get. He was mostly unruly, but he wasn't a moron.

At least the older student was on the ground now, but Naul wasn't really sure if that leveled the playing field anymore. Shivering, he understood that casting was beginning to be more than just a little risky, but he had no intention on ending on the ground next to his own bile. No clocking way.

Gathering his field for what he figured would be the last time regardless of the results, Nauleth spoke the monite for Sleep. If both of them were down, one of them might as well be out.

He just really preferred it not to be himself, not at this juncture in front of an audience.

Laur attempted to pull herself up to a sitting position, slightly sick from dizziness and the fact that things were swimming in and out of view. She was nowhere near Naul's point, though. Eww. Disgusting. She almost felt sorry for him. Still, he had ripped her skirt. Even colder with her bare knees touching the ice, she lashed out with as vicious a Pain as she could muster. If she was lucky, she'd break his cast. If not, she would just have to live with falling asleep in her underwear on the ice. Perhaps one of the nice girls who were cheering her on would wake her up, and possibly lend her a coat.

(( I've been rolling you for spells and after-effects, you guys rolled a 1 and 2 for spells and 2 and 3 for run off. It's normally not so low across the board... ))

Laureline and Nauleth were both teetering now. Their fields were no substitute for real warmth and they were already beginning to flicker with something approaching worry, as both students proceeded to succumb to the elements. Laureline's Pain spell was completed before Nauleth's, largely because recovering from a fall took less time than evacuating the contents of your stomach. She could taste nothing, though she could feel a stinging, debilitating pain in her arm. For Nauleth the effect was worse, unlike a full-bodied casting, his entire body was not affected. Instead it was just his head and his spine. His back felt like it had been trampled, bent and broken in ways it was not meant to go.

He completed his own spell before the pain truly set in. His spell was hampered again by his coldness, though it had more bite than Laureline's. The Sleep spell made her teeter on the edge of consciousness, heightened by the effects of Depth Perception, it became difficult to see. All was not in Naul's favour, however, as he could feel the run off of his own spell. His arms felt dead, as though he had stayed up all night and morning and he felt his eyes closing.

One of the girls with Felicity made as if to help the pair. Felicity grabbed her arm and stopped her in her tracks.

"No, don't go out there until they say they're done. I've seen Siordanti duel before."

The students waited, ready to help. The duel was, for all intents and purposes, over. Neither participant could speak and if they knew their limits, they would not try.

Horace almost forgot about the duel. It wasn't something that was originally on the itinerary for the day, though, having a psychotic eighth form cast a spell during lunch wasn't either. It seemed he had to live hour by hour, not day by day. What mattered that day was formal supper. He had worn his new maroon coat, he always tried to look his best for the professors.

I can't be late, I simply can't! Horace was in such a hurry, he almost tripped four times. He had stopped off to see somebody in the Peregrin neighborhood, thinking he had time. He didn't.

I'll try cutting through the Lawn. I might make it.

What he saw after entering the Lawn was not what he was expecting. Laur and Nauleth were both on the ground, surrounded by ice and both looked like they were hurt.

"Stupid duel!" Horace yelled, running up to the sidelines. He hated to see his fellow students in such horrible looking pain.

He ran up next to Felicity and her friends, he didn't them her but they looked slightly happy at the predicament. Horace sneered and looked over at the two figures, finally seeing Laureline's torn skirt.

"Laureline!? what happened!?"

"Oh...oh hello." She saw a tall fuzzy shape swimming in and out of focus, colors darkened by her half-closed eyes. Red hair? Tall? Was it Horace?

"...Sleep...Depth Perception...Pull...so tired...coat?" It was unclear what she was asking for, or saying. But she was visibly wavering, and trying not to fall asleep on the ice, where she was sure she would get sick. She was already feeling numb and freezing.

"Don't...you have...dinner? Frmlll?" She relaxed a bit out of her sitting position, touching more of the ice, closing her eyes a bit more. The ice was so nice. It would be so easy to just take a little nap, right here.

Athrym stood in the background, watching with a frown. The students were having a terrible time of this one. It seemed almost none of their spells were working. It made her feel a little better about her backlash in the cafeteria, but it was odd. It was like watching first forms cast, before they'd developed a relationship with the mona.

As she watched Naul pull himself to sitting, she bit her bottom lip, ever so tempted to help him. But a duel was a duel. At least she'd be here to help with the aftermath.



Glancing at Horace, she shook her head. You don't bother a duelist, way to give the opposition a free hit whilst she's distracted.

"Take it, Nauleth." She said to herself, hoping he was able to cast with the opportunity.

Naul groaned, beyond cold and very much in pain. Obviously too stubborn to roll over and clocking lose, he was frustrated with a clocking heckling, clocking useless, clocking unnecessary crowd. Horace's rather overly-obvious appearance in Laur's favor did absolutely nothing to make him feel more pleasant. It was highly inappropriate to interrupt with such unflattering puppy-ness.

Regardless, he was very aware that to cast again would be risking a brail or worse, neither of which the dark-eyed boy wanted to experience again to anything of the extent he'd suffered before.

With some obvious effort, he managed to lean to one side, rolling away from the leftover contents of his stomach. That was about as far as he felt like traveling, however, allowing himself to flop uselessly on the frozen ground and consider things rather angrily, refusing to make anymore pained noises or whine in front of the good-for-nothing audience, even if it would somehow make something better if he could,

"You'll just have to c-c-come back for more later."

He taunted hoarsely, staring upwards at nothing in particular, trying to think about things that were warm and didn't hurt, "I'd rather you n-not fall asleep in the middle of something important. No one likes a bac-c-klash, so we'll just have to try again later when you're f-f-feeling more up to f-form."

Naul didn't bother gathering his field, but he did find himself wishing his feet were free again, that he could keep his teeth from chattering, and that things had gone a little differently.

Horace tried to listen to the two duelist talk, but they were speaking so softly and too far away to be heard. The only things he made out were, "...Sleep...Depth Perception...Pull...so tired...coat? and "c-c-come back for more later.". That was enough to tell Horace to make sure this duel was over.

Stupid ice. Horace thought to himself. He made sure he stepped carefully, trying not to slip. As he approached Laur, he began taking off his coat. If he heard right, she might have wanted it.

As he loomed over her, she looked like a scared child or an extremely pissed off child, Horace couldn't tell. Horace bent down and wrapped his coat around her. He slowly picked her up, trying not to slip.

"Are you alright?" He said in a soft, caring voice.

In a very quiet, almost little-girlish voice, but laced with far too much venom for a little girl, Horace could hear three very angry words: "Put. Me. Down." She then fixed Naul with an irritated stare, although it was through sleep half-closed eyes, and, raising her voice as loud as it would go, said, "I'm not tying with you, Siordanti. Rematch." And then she promptly fell asleep slumped against the younger boy, exhausted.

As the blonde watched the duel wrap up, she shook her head, jaw clenching as her fiance groaned, in Pain. It took a lot of restraint not to melt Laur's face off. But, a duel was a duel. Shifting her umbrella, the girl made her way out of the sidelines, walking towards Naul. Shifting her blue eyes to Laur and Horace, she kept her field up defensively, unwilling to leave either of them open to a possible final casting, letting the unveiled icy brunt of her anger radiate as she did. If they hadn't noticed her standing back, watching, they would now. Slowing as she reached the ice, she looked Nauleth over. He needed to be taken back to his dorm. But first, she had to release the ice. Without harming him.

Lifting her hand to the ice, she spoke the monite for a simple Counterspell, asking the mona to please reverse the Frostbite so she could get him home.

Casting a counter usually worked best on an active spell. The ice around Nauleth's ankles wasn't magical, it was just thick. Still, the mona could understand Athrym's intent and slowly, surely, the ice began to melt. It took ten minutes before it was thin enough to break but break it did. Most of the dirt attached to Naul's feet broke off. What was left was light enough to be scrapped away, assuming she could get Nauleth upright and walking.