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She gets up. "Okay."

Out into the hall, down the stairs, out of the building, into the network of campus paths.
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Shadow follows, quietly. He is good at quiet.

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He is so heartbreakingly good at quiet.

She makes sure the amulet is clear and hands it over to the minder.
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And Shadow returns to the elemental barracks. Quietly.

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"Night," Maurabel says.

And she goes.
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It's debatable whether he hears her; he's most of the way through the door already, and he doesn't turn around.

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Maurabel is back in the elemental barracks four times in the next two weeks. She borrows an Ice for an artificing project, and a Lightning - not Earth's friend, the other one, who's not nearly as fractious - because the engineering club is paying her to help with stress-testing their improved lightning rod design. (She charged less than any of the other mage students they asked because she couldn't guarantee she'd have a willing Lightning to check out when they needed the test done, and they took the chance and there was a willing Lightning and she refilled her snack drawer.) She borrows a Fire, for another installment of her scrying assignment.

She approaches Shadow again, after that.

"Hey."
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"Hello."

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"How are you doing?"

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He shrugs.

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"Want to help me do a scrying ward?"

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"Okay," he says.

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She collects the amulet, she clears it, she leads the way to her dorm.

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Shadow follows, as quietly as ever.

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And she lets the quiet sit, as usual.

It starts drizzling on their way there. She slows down a little, frowning up at the clouds, trying to flick the water away, and eventually shakes her head and gives up and returns to her usual pace.
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Shadow unfolds his wings.

Being Shadow wings, they're invisible except for the shadows they cast, but Maurabel will probably notice the rain running off them as he holds one over her head.
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Awwwww.

Maurabel smiles, unexpectedly warmed.

"Thank you."
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He smiles back.

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Presently they're at the dorm, and her room is where it usually is. "I have a box of objects I'm supposed to ward against three kinds of scrying, my choice, and then next week we check other students' work but I don't know which kinds I'll be assigned to check on, so I don't know if I'll be back for you then."

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"Okay."

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Maurabel picks up her box of objects, peeps inside it to make sure the correct things are in it, and shuts it and sits down with it in her lap.

"Ready?"
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He nods.

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Maurabel taps him and is slow and deliberate in outlining what she wants to conceal, and how (she wants the box warded against scrying, not eternally proof against the intrusion of light or something similarly irrelevant to the assignment). She doesn't want to have to start over.

Even worked meticulously like that, it doesn't take too long. Soon she's pretty sure she has it done.

"There. Now I want to scry it myself - or, better yet, fail to - instead of waiting for the peer review. Okay?"
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"Okay," says Shadow.

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So she tries dark scrying - less disoriented by the wacky colors, this time - and attempts to look into her box.

Nope!

"Excellent."
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