Nauleth's thoughts had felt as though they had been on fire for days. Whatever had happened in the Cloister those few days ago had been like an Immolation spell let carelessly loose in the driest corners of the Library, so bright and burning were the implications of his experience upon the edges of his mind. The boy had since spent hours scouring ridiculous numbers of books for any hint of theory or application that seemed to fit what he'd felt he'd been privy to for even those few moments while practicing with Athrym.

Unfortunately, the dark-eyed boy felt he'd been left entirely unsatisfied.

Finally finding time to surface from his normal state of busyness, Naul found himself once again in front of Professor Lux's door, a wrapped package under one arm. Removing his other hand from his pocket, he knocked firmly and without the hesitance of last time, wordlessly imploring Alioe for the Hoxian woman to not be busy. He wasn't sure he could spend another day without some sort of explanation.

The sound of light rain was uninterrupted after the knock. Afternoon light streamed in from the windows in the hallway, projecting the shadows and lights of raindrops against the glass onto the wooden door.

The door next to Freja's opened, and a head popped out. It was Susan.

She looked more than a little surprised to see him. In her arms was a bundle of folders; she appeared to be in a meeting of some kind, as a grey-haired and balding professor poked his head out of the door as well. Susan narrowed her eyebrows at Nauleth, more in a sort of general greeting than in ill will.

"Professor Lux said that if anyone came to call, to tell them that she was on the roof," she said crisply. "I do hope you brought her an umbrella, because she didn't take one."

Nauleth blinked, perhaps a little surprised at the pair of faces that appeared out of the room next door. He had not brought an umbrella, quite preferring the rain since it'd finally come. He smirked, "On the roof? Er. Thanks."

He looked down at his package. It was yarn. For knitting.

Placing it in front of Freja's door instead of bringing it outside to get any more wet than it already was, Naul turned and wandered to find the stairs that led to the top of the building. It took him peeking in a few doors, more than one of which contained a closet or an office, before he found the right set of stairs.

A few flights later, the dark-eyed boy hovered at the exit, listening to the sound of rain against the door before opening it and stepping onto the roof. He had no idea what to expect, admittedly nervous.

The roof of the building was flat and paved with stone, a perfect area for setting up a telescope on a dry night or for holding a class when one's classroom was too stuffy and hot. Currently, however, it was beaten with rain and slippery wet.

Against the grey sky, Nauleth could see the equally grey figure of Freja Lux turned away from him, her arms outstretched and moving in a twitchy, serpentine fashion. Above her, an enormous swath of some sort of material was waving and moving, refracting odd patches of light onto the ground. One beam of light caught Nauleth in the eye, catching him off-guard as he stepped through the door into the rain. Upon closer inspection, it became clear that the strange material was rain; she was bending and shaping the water, freezing it in places and moving it around like putty into strange shapes.

She was not speaking. Her hands moved in increasingly complex ways as she molded the cloud of rain around her, swirling in a whirlwind of droplets. Her grey robes were whipped by the wind as the water moved faster than gale-force winds around her.

Without a warning, she seemed to release them. The force of the typhoon she had whipped up caused the water to fly out in every direction, giving Nauleth only a split second to react, during which he could see shards of ice flying towards his face.

Upon stepping onto the roof, Naul was clocking fascinated by the mysterious, rainy scene that unfolded in front of him. Practically stupefied, the boy's gaze shifted from Freja to the forces under her apparently wordless control and back to the Professor again. His mouth hung open a little, raising a hand to shield his eyes against the rain. Then, he finally blinked and there were sharp icy objects flying toward his face.

With a gasp of surprise, Naul sucked his field in with his breath, lowering his hand to further protect his eyes as he lifted the other one and quickly spoke the monite for Hydrosmosis, hoping to stop the frozen water in its place in front of him, preferably before any of it ended up in his flesh.

Like time itself had stopped, the majority of the flung icicles suddenly hung in the air inches from Nauleth's face. It was a lot of targets to focus on in a short amount of time, however, and a few slipped past him, crashing into the threshold of the door. One of them made the tiniest rip in his school uniform.

Freja lofted an thoughtful eyebrow. Although he had no doubts that she had done that on purpose, she didn't give off the air of wanting to kill him. She studied the spell he was working as though he were a rather fascinating performing animal.

The spell she had been casting had broken, and the afternoon rain began to make up for lost time, catching in tiny sparkling droplets on her hair and clothing. Approaching Nauleth, her long robe trailed in the deep puddles of the rooftop; she didn't look like she cared.

"Men tend to use the Wall," she remarked, stepping toward him and plucking out one of the icicles from the doorframe, then inspecting it between her fingers. She smiled thinly at him. "For such a rude boy, you show remarkable respect for other people's spellwork."

Nauleth smirked, lopsidedly, unsure as to whether to feel affronted by her gender assumption or humbled by her unexpected compliment. He blinked in the rain, still slightly distracted by all that had transpired, "I'm not rude so much as impatient, but thank you. I'll admit my appreciation has been slow in blooming."

The dark-eyed boy was unsure of how else to express the change in seasons he'd begun to allow to sink into his life, magically and personally. With less hesitation than his previous visit, Naul straightened and tucked his hands into his pockets, watching the Hoxian woman inspect her dangerous work,

"Can I ask what you were doing? You know, before you decided attempting to impale me was an interesting field exercise in quick casting."

Freja pursed her lips; she considered contradicting a teacher to be very rude indeed, but he had done nothing but confirm what she had already said, so she did not argue.

"To catch each drop of water, a state of intense meditation must be reached," she said by way of explanation. "Come out into the rain."

Stepping back, she entered a spell-circle that had been drawn in some kind of water-resistant paint. Nauleth recognized a few of the symbols as being static, but most were relatively strange, possibly owing to Freja's own style of writing.

"Eventually you train yourself to enter the droplets as they are released from the clouds, before they fall to the earth, when they are one water," she continued. The idiosyncratic phrases were probably due to a language barrier, as certain phrases might not have been entirely translatable. "With Static magic, you must enter the essential element. Think back to a time before it was broken and impure. Bend your will around it, understand it."

She raised her hands, and a curtain of water hung in the air over her. Though the rain between them continued to fall, Nauleth could see a shimmering cloud forming over her as more droplets got caught in the field she was projecting.

"It is called zkratas - the oneness of all things."

Naul willingly followed, pausing only to stare at the writing and study the spell circle with a distracted sort of curiosity. He listened to the Hoxian woman explain things in her own way, perhaps a little caught up in her accent and her choice of words. It took him a few minutes to process, but ultimately he could only look up and watch. It was rather fascinating.

Part of the boy desperately wanted to tell someone how exciting casting in the Cloister had been, but the nagging feeling in the back of his mind told him that Professor Lux probably wouldn't really care in the same way he did. It was still a small struggle to keep his mouth shut.

He sighed, listless, and continued to watch. Casting without words was utterly enviable, something Naul realized he envied, he wanted, he hoped to some day attain. His brain was already swimming, again, after only a few moments. It was a little maddening to find himself lost one more time in a sea of theory deeper than before.

Still, he was going to go for it. Rude boy she thought he was, rude boy he was going to be, "Didn't you say last time that we only make small suggestions to the mona? Can we really bend them to our will? Or is there a point at which our will and the will of the mona is the same ... a horizon line ... since you say there is a oneness in all things? The rain and my cerebellum, as it were."

"I said bend your will, not the mona," corrected Freja sternly. She paused to appraise him. "But, yes. There is a point at which one recognizes that we are but mona, and our will is just another part of the universe. Some call this the life line; some call it fate. We imagine ourselves freed of will, able to choose. But how can that be, when we are but drops of water in an endless sea, pushed and pulled by the tide of the world?"

She smiled. "It is a paradox," she said, looking out at the setting sun and shielding her black eyes. "Like sunshine when it is raining. This is an interesting thing for me, Siordantigk. It does not shine so brightly in Hox."

The professor used a familiar suffix to refer to him without knowing if he would know what it meant. It caused his name to have a sharp sound, like the rattle of a snake's tail.

Nauleth blinked, almost assuming that the professor was simply mispronouncing his name, only slightly intimidated to ask. He raised a hand from his pocket in a questioning sort of gesture, index finger raised, "Uh, does that mean something? Or did you mean to call me that?" His tone of voice might have implied he was really asking, 'What does that mean?'

Sniffing uncomfortably, the boy followed the woman's gaze to the horizon, "Enjoy it while you can, Professor Lux, because you won't be seeing much of the sun once the rainy season is in full swing, not for a month or two at least."

Naul shrugged, biting his lip in indecision. Part of him desperately wanted to tell someone, anyone, about his successfully amazing advanced casting on the Cloister, but the other part certainly didn't want to come across as bragging. He just needed more people to know, perhaps people who wouldn't necessarily find Magma such a terrible thing to be proud of.

"Anyway, if all we are is mona when one reaches the crux of things, then do you think at one point there will come a time when galdori reach a higher understanding of how we interact with them? Or do you think there'll always be that disconnect?" It was obvious by his choice of emphasis that the lack of complete knowledge was both a curiosity and a disappointment for the boy, especially considering he'd mostly had experiences in the realm of what he perceived as the disconnect—backlash included.

Freja ignored his first question, as well as the comment about the rainy season; that evening's rain has only begun, but she could see a clearing in the clouds above. For a moment it stopped, and they were standing on a wet roof, watching the rest of the rain sweep slowly over Brunnhold.

"There is a moth in the Volan region of Hox called the xevadr," she said. "It is grey on one side, but brilliantly colored on the other. It lives among wildflowers. The moth has no idea why it is safe among the flowers; it has never seen its other side. It has seen other moths; it sees them every day. But it cannot make the connection. Do you see what I am saying? We can understand the mona, almost entirely. It is possible. But we cannot ever see ourselves as clearly, and thus our knowledge will always be incomplete. A mirror cannot show every side at once."

She did not seem like the type of person to make metaphors; from the tone of her voice, it seemed like a concept that she could not explain in any other way.

"This kind of thinking," she said slowly, "will get you put out of a class in Brunnhold. You are viewing the mona as one being now. That is dangerous here. The Anaxi, they know mona as the gods. Where I am from, we are celebrating zkratas."

Nauleth snorted, holding back sarcastic laughter, "Sometimes getting kicked out doesn't sound so bad, really." He thumbed his nose and looked away from the Hoxian woman, turning over her explanation in his mind for a few moments in silence, silence that wasn't awkward so much as it was heavy, wondering for a moment if Freja had been invited to fill in as a teacher at Brunnhold for just that purpose—weeding out the trouble-makers with icy precision.

He tried not to chuckle more at the thought.

"If I didn't have plans of the marital sorts to work out with a particular student here, you tempt me to ask if Hox has a student exchange program." The dark-eyed boy grinned, unsure if the older woman would really manage to pick up on the hint of humor in his tone, "So far, some of the more significant progress I've made in casting has been on my own ... or at least outside of class. Especially recently."

Like most Hoxians, Freja had a limited sense of humor, but she was not an idiot.

"Tell me," she instructed him bluntly, clearly referring to his recent success.

((Shortest Cart reply ever? I think so. ))

Naul hadn't told anyone. He'd kept everything that he could possibly have considered exciting to himself for days now. Who could he have told, anyway? Athrym had been there. Angus would've been disappointed there weren't enough explosions. Fred was obviously intimidated by the amazing show of force. And anyone else probably wouldn't have cared, either. So, the boy had bottled it up all inside and returned to studying, all the while secretly trying not to burst at the seams in front of faculty and students alike.

Now, here he was with an opportunity to share. It was all he could do not to gush with awed, almost childish excitement to the woman, and, at the start of his explaination, Naul was actually calm. He explained that his future fiancée and himself had been giving more advanced spells a try, not forgetting to leave out the runoff both of them experienced. He didn't gloss over his mouth getting stuck or the mysterious way it was unstuck, sharing with Freja his opinion that while it was not entirely like casting without speaking, it felt clocking close.

Then, as he moved on to explain about the heckling older boys, it was harder for him to speak slowly. As he built up what became practically a duel over the insulting of Athrym and himself, his words slurred together a little, ending in a crescendo of blended words that came out something like,

"AndthenIcastMagmaanditwasclockingamazing!"

The dark-eyed boy paused to breathe, grinning lopsidedly, totally forgetting he was speaking to the Hoxian professor so much as caught up in the exciting moment. He cleared his throat and attempted to calm down, hands confined once again to his trouser pockets, "The two of us even managed a Counterspell in chorus. It was all rather glorious, even if the side effects were rough. If anyone'd asked me two years ago if I thought I'd ever have something close to an understanding like that with the mona, I'd have really laughed at them."

Naul's grin faded into a wry smirk, the curious hunger from before returning to the undertones of his excited voice, "I realize now, especially in the afterglow of touching more advanced magic, that I still hardly know enough."

As Nauleth spoke, a thin smile spread across Freja's face, and when he mentioned the Magma spell, her eyes gleamed with triumph, genuinely thrilled for his success. Although the change was so subtle as to be invisible, there was an ever-so-slightly feral look in her eye. She seemed to be viewing Nauleth in a new light.

"You are making strides to improve," she said. "You show promise, and heart. I will be recommending you for a more advanced study, Nauleth. I am putting together a special class, one filled with students who are pressing boundaries in their work, challenging the idea that advanced magic is only for the old...that true names must be sought only by conventional means."

Naul blinked, wondering if he'd heard things correctly in his excitement.

"Did you say true names? Er—" The dark-eyed boy tilted his head to one side in a failed attempt to coerce some of his soaked hair from falling into his face, "Wait. Are you saying that age has nothing ... to do with ... Damn, you really are trying to get students kicked out!"

He laughed a little, awkwardly, suddenly nervous. It was a kind of fluttery feeling, a similar rush of warm anxiety to what he felt when sneaking into windows late at night.

"Sorry," Naul smirked, realizing he should consider working on what he said to professors on occasion, "What I totally meant to say is that it would be a privilege to be considered for such a class."

Freja raised her eyes to his.

"Good," she said shortly. "Then it is done. I will arrange it. You must tell no one, Nauleth. No one. This is a strictly invitation-only group. If I find you have spoken of this to other students or teachers, you will not be welcome."

Stepping up to the edge of the roof, the Hoxian woman looked down at the street below. It was spattered with lamplight; several students were scurrying back and forth, their rubber jackets held over their heads. The lucky few who had brought their umbrellas were huddled together under them, happily chatting by the cafeteria doors.

"And I will know," she said darkly. "Sometimes to seek the light we must practice in the shadows. Don't you think?"

Naul chuckled but bit his lip, pausing to exhale slowly through his nose, "While I couldn't agree more, I will admit that I'm not sure I can keep such a secret from everyone. I mean, from at least one person." The boy slid a hand from his pocket to rub the back of his neck, sheepish and suddenly unsure, "I don't think I could be comfortable hiding such an opportunity from the girl I hope to marry."

He sighed, obviously more than just a little interested. He was unsure what he was more uncomfortable with—the idea of betraying hard-won trust or disappointing Freja.

With a shrug, he added, "Other than Athrym, however, it's not like I have anyone else to tell." Naul smirked, "So, despite the allure of the opportunity, I might have to decline the invitation. That's no easy thing for me to say, Professor."

(( ))

An ever so slight angle appeared to Freja's right eyebrow.

"Forgive me. I was mistaken," she said, her tone blank and emotionless. It was clear that she was not going to argue with him. "I wish you a happy marriage, Siordanti, and a life free from troubles."

Turning away from the edge, she walked past Nauleth and entered the threshold of the doorway. She was absolutely soaking wet, but did not seem to even notice. Before stepping through, she turned once more to look at him.

"If you change your mind," she said, "you will know where to find me. Until then, duertek."

Not waiting for an answer, she slipped down the staircase and disappeared.

That was not quite the response Naul was expecting, and yet somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he should have. In all honesty, the boy was never really sure he could ever know what to expect from the Hoxian woman. Maybe that was ultimately for the best. Really knowing her mind seemed more dangerous than he'd ever imagined, and yet ...

He opened his mouth to object, blinking at her in the rain as she turned, but found only an uncomfortable, stinging silence. His chest burned with the weight of indecision. There, disappearing from the roof, went the offer of something mysterious and powerful and amazing. Somewhere on campus was the assurance of something lovely and brilliant and supportive.

It was cruel to make him choose. Or at least to make him feel like he had to.

The thought of lying, of hiding something so obviously life-changing, of keeping that kind of power, from someone he'd admitted to love was ... terrifying.

"Godsdammit." Nauleth hissed in the rain, now alone on the roof, feeling the heat of shame despite being soaked to the bone.

He wouldn't be satisfied without both. He knew it. And it hurt.