The Daily Grind: Learning and Stuff

He nodded. "I can make the seals for you, but I will need another wizard to help with the rites. Since there is no one here, we had best go see which of the staff or older students are available for it. And it would perhaps be best to do it in a room above ground."

"I will prepare for the rituals," Iso said. "Meanwhile, you should go find one of the wizards." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Go speak to Illiad Willow. He's a student here, but he is invaluable when it comes to gathering information. He will know who the best wizards are for this sort of thing, at least of the ones that are available in the tower. You can find Willow in the library usually. Tell him I sent you. That should sweeten him up a bit to help you."

"You're in my li- oh it's you again."
Yah, there was Illiad Willow, nearly buried behind massive stacks of books that surrounded him on virtually every side possible. His green eyes were narrowed at her from over the top of a giant red tome perched precariously on a stack of books that progressively decreased in size to the floor.
"Just don't go glowing it up or whatever it is you peasants do," he muttered, slowly inching lower behind the book stack as he returned to whatever literary woodwork he had crawled out of to insult her.

"Hmm, is that so. Well, I suppose I'd better do what he says."
Is what would have been nice to hear.

"Who does he think he is?! A peasant giving me orders!? The audacity of such a man! If I hadn't left my kingdom I would have ordered him chopped to bits and fed to the dogs! I can never tolerate the impunity of such benign worm-urchins! Have you ever seen a worm-urchin before? They are nasty and covered in goo and roll around with mouths full of little spines, and they make sounds that are so unearthly. Ugh! I swear he asks me for help five times a day if not more! Who made him a professor? I should speak to the Headmaster about this!"

But still, Illiad got up from his little castle of books, huffing and sighing, and muttering long strings of creative insults all the while. He looked at Celine with those startling green eyes, and there was something very off about the look. Perhaps its entire lack of sincerity, malice, or inclination.
Like the face and the words and the voice did not match at all.

"So what did he want?" Illiad growled.

"There are fourhundred and twenty-seven rituals related to herbology alone. Would you like to perhaps narrow it down to one? That was grossly vague." His green eyes narrowed even further if that was possible.

Illiad rubbed his temples with an exasperated sigh. "It's not your fault. It was Iso who neglected to tell you. Wretched urchin-worm. I'll go have a few choice words with him. Why don't you run off and make yourself useful somewhere. Don't you have more classes or something?" He grumbled something else under his breath and went back to his books.