"...So by 'something happened' you mean it all vanished?" says Matilda, peering at him.
She sits down on the ground and peers up at the dragon.
"What things does dragon magic do, exactly? What are all the magical properties dragons have?"
She peers at Jensal (understand, understand, understand) and after about three ticks, she says, "Extra shapeshifting?"
"Okay. I think I can see... where all his dragon magic should be and isn't, and which things should go in which places," she says. "So maybe if I could teach ialdae to do all the things dragon magic does, I could fix it. But I think I want to try language first so I can ask him what he thinks of that."
Matilda thinks about language, and magic. She likes languages. They're fun. She likes figuring them out and seeing what they're made of. Dragons (and shrens, when there are shrens) don't learn languages, though, they just know them. And they know Draconic, which is itself magic, and can only be understood with magic.
Matilda has magic. And her magic is pretty good at understanding things sometimes.
She thinks to herself: come on. Come on. Learn Draconic. It's a language, and languages are amazing, and it's magic, and magic is amazing. Learn Draconic. Learn Draconic. Learn Draconic. Learn Draconic. Learn Draconic.
Something goes click, magically speaking. Suddenly every language she's ever heard of is just there.
She inspects the little knot of magic that makes this so, and she looks at the diamond dragon, and she puts one of those right where his language magic goes. Its job is to stay there and give him language. That is what it is for. It knows its job, and it is going to do that job forever and ever.
"I put your language back first so I could ask you about the rest of it," Matilda explains. "I want to replace it all with ialdae. Do you want me to try that?"
"I don't know exactly how it's all going to work," Matilda warns him. "Sometimes when ialdae learns how to do things, it learns them a little differently from how they were to start. But it usually learns them nicer or easier, like how ialdic lights can make their lights at a distance, and ialdic teleportation doesn't need you to have been to the place."
"Sometimes it also does things like make things sparkle or glow that don't sparkle or glow when you do them with other magic," she says.
She looks between Virac and Jensal, and contemplates dragon names. This time she will probably not be able to test it on herself first. So she should try really, really hard to properly understand the problem with her magic before she does anything.
"I'm not sure," she says. "I can't seem to tell what it was from looking at where the magic used to be. What's the rest of it, besides Virac?"
"Virac in particular, unlike many shrens but like most dragons," says Jensal, "has a line name. Virac is his personal name, talme is the equivalent of a surname, and the rest of it is syllables he's added on from friends and family."
When she concentrates, she can see the empty places where the name should go. She puts ialdae there, and she tells it that this person knows what his name is and he should have it all again just the same as he did before, and go on having it definitely forever no matter what. This magic's job is to be dragon name magic, with the song and the collecting syllables and everything just like how dragons usually have it.
"Okay, good," says Matilda. "Now what's left is... shapeshifting and firebreathing and colour-group magic, right? And the thing about having kids? Which part do you want next?"