Speak softly and carry a big stick

Iliril of the Chant

"Y-yeah. D-dorms w-would b-be g-good n-now," Iliril muttered, feeling more and more tired as he calmed back down. He took back his pin from Enelen and for a few moments, couldn't decide what he wanted to do with it. His hands flew from his ear to his neck and back before he finally settled on putting it back into his earlobe. Maybe Enelen thought that others would be coming and maybe Iliril believed that, just a little. But he was still ashamed.

If anybody came to this world looking for other mages, they probably were looking for somebody like Enelen. Somebody who was emotionally well, from some prestigious school, and could actually perform magic. What kind of disappointment would somebody get from finding Iliril there? Not everybody was as optimistic as Enelen. Not everybody could take such things in stride. At that very moment, Iliril suddenly felt deeply appreciative of the fact that the other mage was there. Things could have been worse. Should have been, knowing his luck.

He shook his head. "W-where d-do y-you l-live an-nyw-ways?" If he was going to have to face tomorrow and the next day and the next week the same as the previous month, Iliril was really going to go mad.

Iliril of the Chant

"C-coll-lege f-freshm-man?" The words sounded strange him, like they were on some kind of macabre menu. Iliril had to wrack his brain for a while to remember if he had heard that term used yet. When he had first arrived on the island, he had been much more preoccupied with trying to get off it, to the point where everything else had blended into the background. "T-they s-said t-they w-would p-put m-me int-to t-the f-first y-year." Whatever that meant. Iliril didn't didn't know how many levels of schooling there were. "I w-wasn't r-reall-ly p-pay-ying att-tent-tion."

People had roommates here? While that wasn't a very new idea to him -Iliril lived in caves so the potential for everybody to have their own living area was not realistic in the least- he was sure that having one here would be disastrous. He could barely handle Enelen as it was, and at least Enelen was from his same world. If he had to deal with anybody else, then he'd lose the one safe haven he had.

"Um I w-wouldn't w-want t-to b-both-ther y-you t-two." Even, though, actually, Iliril really wouldn't have minded. He just wasn't certain what kind of roommate Enelen had. Would they be as inquisitive as he was? That would be a struggle.

Iliril of the Chant

"I d-didn't p-pick an-ny c-class-ses y-yet," Iliril confessed, mentally stowing away the information that he was a "college freshman." "I h-have s-some pap-pers, t-though. B-but I t-think I us-sed t-them f-for c-comp-pos-sing." Actually, the more he thought about it, the more he could distinctly recall having ruined them within the first few hours. Mainly because he could remember feeling so angry that nothing was working. Composing was both a source of frustration and comfort, although he still wasn't sure if the process here made him feel any better about himself.

Everything was going so well up until that last part. Midway through an absent nod, Iliril's brain caught up with his ears as he did a double take. "W-what." In a blink of an eye, he was standing right in front of Enelen, holding onto the shorter boy's shoulders. Did he have any idea what he was saying? Much more awake and much more there than he had been since coming to the island, Iliril asked in perfect seriousness, "W-what k-kind. En-nel-len, t-this is imp-port-tant."

Iliril of the Chant[

River spirit. Water. That wasn't entirely what he was looking to hear but after an entire lifetime of simply being stonewalled or laughed at, that was better than Iliril had expected. He had no way of knowing what this spirit looked like, whether it was one of the more human ones or not. But, at least, he thought that it probably wasn't what the sort his people had been looking for. After all, Sard was a desert. All of the rivers to be found were solely subterranean. Iliril relaxed his grip a little, letting Enelen loose.

"S-sorr-ry," he said belatedly. "It's j-just s-somet-thing t-that w-was imp-port-tant t-to m-my s-school. W-we alw-ways t-thought t-there w-were ot-ther b-beings out t-there b-but ev-ver-ryb-bod-dy j-just l-laughed." The mage wondered what kind of sick joke this was, to find out the information here and now but not have anybody to give it to. And even so, he was essentially an outsider to his school anyways. The person with the least amount of stake had been the one to make this discovery.

He didn't know what to be more disgusted at, the fact that he had this triumph over their bodies or the fact that they were right all along and nobody gave the idea a chance. Everything was just happening too late.

For a moment, he covered his face and just sighed. "I t-think I w-would l-like t-to m-meet y-your r-roomm-mate s-somet-time," he said. "L-later." There was just too much to process now and he wasn't in any state to be chasing after matters like this at the moment.

Iliril rubbed at his eyes. "I'm n-no g-good at an-nyt-thing r-really," he told Enelen. "C-comp-pos-sing is m-mak-king s-spells, y-yes. If y-you're g-going t-to j-just c-change an ex-xist-ting c-chant, y-you m-might as w-well m-make a n-new one. T-too m-man-ny f-fact-tors n-need t-to b-be b-bal-lanc-ced. I'm d-dec-cent at c-comp-pos-sing b-but I c-can't act-tuall-ly use an-ny of t-them."

Iliril of the Chant

He really did stare at Enelen as if he had grown two heads. Iliril had a vague idea in the back of his mind that he was being mocked but then remembered that the other mage was just too. Tactlessly curious to be cruel like that. "En-nel-len," the Chants mage said slowly, as if explaining to a young child. Which might have been for the best because he had no idea what Enelen knew of his school anyways. Probably as much as he knew about the School of Staves, which was as basic as They use staves and things happen fast.

"M-my s-spells are c-call-led c-chants f-for a r-reas-son." Iliril explained, "W-when us-sing c-chants, t-tim-ming, t-tone, and h-harm-mon-ny are v-ver-ry c-cruc-cial. I d-don't h-have t-tim-ming or t-tone because I c-can't ev-ven s-say m-my own n-name w-without a s-stutt-ter and t-there's no h-harm-mon-ny b-because t-there are no ot-ther C-Chants m-mages h-here. T-theref-fore, I c-can't ex-xec-cute m-mag-gic. If I c-could s-speak n-norm-mall-ly, I w-would b-be ab-ble t-to d-do s-small t-things b-but t-that's j-just n-not h-how it is, n-now is it?" He wasn't actively trying to sound bitter about it, but it was kind of hard not to because this was a huge issue for him and Enelen was just. Totally oblivious to it. When it was just staring him in the face.