[center][h2][color=red]Clarence[/color] and Mort[/h2][/center]
L'Mordryn academy is home to noble children from all the lands for the beginning of their journeys on the path of invocation. The Veill family is one which has only been a noble family for a little while, but is now seemingly entering their rise to prominence. They've gained a reputation for being talented invokers. The head of each generation have all become masters, and Clarence, the current scion of the house seems to be one of the most talented invokers they've seen yet.

He summoned his first familiar at a very young age, before his schooling had even begun. The link between him and his familiar was unheard of, like the steel of its making was how it was described by a L'Mordryn assessor. It seemed unbreakable, the distance they could be apart seemed limitless. If one were to let their imagination run wild, it was as if Orewing were a being of this Earth, and they didn't have a link at all!

Which is exactly how it was.

"Clarence," Mort spoke.

His call fell on thickly blanketed ears. Underneath a mound of soft linens a small groan emanated from within.

"Clarence." Mort said, more insistent this time.

An hand poked through a gap and widened it, allowing a soft, and small red haired head to poke out of the covers. It breathed through its nostrils for a few minutes before groaning again.

[color=red]"I don't want to come in today... Help me Morttttt..."[/color]

The daily routine. This was Clarence Chaunce Veill, scion of the Veill family.

When one has a burden pressed onto them, they can either try to bear it, or try to lighten it. As the only son of the Veill family, Clarence doesn't have the luxury of lightening it, but if someone can't bear a burden properly, they will inevitably crash, which was Clarence, every day. Mornings were tough on him, but he needed to keep up appearances. For the sake of him, and his family.

"Up you get," Mort said, floating closer.

Orewing was the, decidedly not false name of the warhammer inhabited by the Earth-bound spirit Mort, which Clarence had met some time ago. To find out how exactly he came to be, the both of them had decided that L'Mordryn was the way to go.

Clarence weakly gripped the handle of Orewing, and Mort dragged him around the room to try and dislodge the boy from his cocoon. It wouldn't do to have the other members of the dorm room see him in this state. Mort didn't have a particular preference, but Clarence was rather particular about his appearance.

Once blankets were dislodged, Mort helped Clarence to his feet and guided him over to the bathroom. He deposited him in the bathtub and closed the door behind him as he left.

Clarence's burden was magnified somewhat by his personality. He dwelled on mistakes, and was always somewhat anxious, but once he realized he hadn't done anything wrong and that he didn't have anything to stress about he was generally fine. Clarence emerged from the bath, refreshed and somewhat at ease. There weren't any tests or assessments due for at least a month so he'd be fine for today.

Mort kept Clarence's cup on top of Orewing while Clarence brushed his teeth. He put Clarence's towel into the laundry basket once he finished drying himself off. Once Clarence was dressed, he was as ready as he was going to be.

[color=red]"..."[/color] Clarence was looking at himself in the mirror. There weren't any bags under his eyes. [color=red]"Let's go get breakfast, Mort."[/color]

But a bad night's sleep is a bad night's sleep. He'd have to compensate on the weekend.

It wasn't a secret that Mort could talk, just that Orewing couldn't. It felt strange to call him Orewing in public so they just didn't speak unless they needed to. At this point it wasn't as if they needed to, they already knew everything about each other. Mort was a spirit with no memory, but not one without any discretion.

They both exited the dorm room in silence.