A young man is brought into their summoning circle. He has a pen in his hand, though no paper - apparently that wasn't brought with him. With bewilderment, he looks around.

In a language they wouldn't understand, he turns to them and asks a question.

The man frowns. He looks at the circle in confusion - it's not something he recognizes. Some strange off-branch of a bloodline with weird chalk-based ideas? Where in the world has this brought him?

He tries to move outside of the circle, and finds he can't. Confusion turns to a bit of worry! He asks another question, in the same foreign language.

The browner girl makes a placating gesture at him and says some more things that he won't be able to understand.

The pale one - she also looks a little older than her friend - finds what she's looking for, and studies the page. She describes a gesture in the air with her free hand, and speaks several crisp syllables.

"Did it work?" inquires the brown one in perfectly intelligble - essence-of-native-language.

He frowns at them both, then raises and eyebrow when they strangely switch languages. With bewilderment, he turns and stares at the pale, older girl. That was the simplest spell he's ever seen in his life, and he's absolutely certain that it's a spell.

"I can understand you, yes. Now please explain what's going on?" he says, confused and somewhat unnerved.

"We summoned you!" exclaims younger/browner/rounder-eared. "It worked!"

"We can send you back after we've shown you to somebody," says older/paler/pointier.

That's actually kind of insulting. His life isn't- uprootable for the whims of other people. Because she's closer, he fixes younger/browner/rounder-eared with a cold glare. To further add to the message that he's not happy, his arms are then crossed. Goodness, he must mean business.

"And just why did you summon me?" demands the man. "I'm not a zoo animal, to parade around to your friends."

"Well, it's random, who we get," says the younger.

Her roommate nods. "The spell just grabs somebody, we don't tell it where from or who. We don't even know anybody from another world to summon specifically."

"Random. A random spell to summon other people," says the man, brushing aside his hair from his face in exasperation. What kind of insanity did he just walk into? Or, he supposes, get summoned into.

"You just said another- world. World? You just casually- There should be at least six of you, if not more," he muses, mostly to himself. "... What's your bloodline? Do you have one?"

"...I'm a thudia?" volunteers older/blonder/pointier. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Co-casting with six, wow, it's hard enough with two," says younger/darker/rounder. "Oh, we haven't introduced ourselves, I'm Saasnil and that's Korulen."

"That word didn't translate, I believe. I'm Adarin, of the third bloodline. I am second generation," replies, apparently, Adarin. He says this as if he expects them to understand and to act in a certain way!

"Your magic is so common that you don't need to- co-cast? With six," he states, flatly, stumbling a little over the foreign word that doesn't fit into his language.

"A thudia is a kind of half-dragon," says Korulen.

"But it doesn't have to do with being a wizard. I'm a wizard, too," pipes up Saasnil. "Wizards can cast spells, that's the point."

Adarin stares. Normally, it's rude, but in this case, he believes it's quite justified. "... Forgive me if this is rude, but you don't look to be half dragon."

Then, he needs to sit down. He does so. Taking a deep breath, he manages, "I do believe that I am very far from home. You don't need a bloodline to do- magic, yes? Is what I'm hearing correct? There's no error in recording them, or- or something?"

"...What do you think half dragons look like?" Korulen inquires, sounding confused. "I mean, I could shift to my other form, but it'd probably knock over a chair, in here."

"All you need to be a wizard is a channeling capacity and everybody's got one, big or small," says Saasnil, sounding like she's paraphrasing somebody. "Oh, and you need hands, and the ability to speak, or at least they think you have to be able to speak but there might be something else you could do instead that would work, but the three established traditions of wizardry all involve it."

"Dragons as I've known them were fairy-tale creatures with scales, stag horns, fur, and could heal with their breath. They carried precious gems in their claws and posed riddles to any travelling passerby. You are- not that. At all," says the man, exasperated and out of his depth.

He needs a minute, just to think. Then, he's plotting. Adarin isn't sure what any of this is, but he's going to try and use it.

"Do I have a channeling capacity?" inquires Adarin.

"...Scales yes, horns not staglike, no fur, breath can involve fire but that's kind of the opposite of healing, why would you carry precious gems around all the time, the riddles I guess might be case-by-case depending on the dragon?" says Korulen.

"Probably not," Saasnil tells him. "Since you're not from our world."

Adarin makes an uncommitted 'Mm' sound, then goes back to thinking. He is not native to whatever magic they have, but perhaps he can explain his. Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath and sort of- whispers an incantation. It's not in the same language he was speaking, but the translation spell will translate it all the same.

"False vision, come forth in light," he whispers, holding out his hands. A little dragon-as-he-knows-it appears on the floor next to him. He's in the habit of keeping his incantations in another language, to make counter-spelling difficult.

He looks at Korulen. "This is how I know dragons. It seemed polite to show you."

Korulen peers at it. "Well," she says, "that doesn't look like me or my mom, or for that matter any other kind of dragon besides jade ones."

"You did that without gesturing," observes Saasnil. "You must have an interesting kinda magic."

"Apparently so. Mine is passed down through bloodlines, it's not... Automatically given to everyone," explains Adarin. "And it's not used quite so casually."

The light-dragon pokes its nose against the barrier, and makes no more headway than Adarin did. A subtle test, to see if his magic could get out, if he could defend himself. Since the answer's no, he's going to be a very nice visitor.

At last. Sanity. Something that makes sense. He nods, glad for a bit of normalcy, though he didn't understand what half of those words she used were.

"I see. Then- I suppose I am the first partial-Fae you've ever met. I do hope I've made a good impression," deadpans Adarin. "Are you planning to show me off to all of your friends?"

There's a hint of bitterness in that statement, he can't help it. He doesn't like being treated like a show animal.

"Just one. Someone was making fun of Saasnil earlier," says Korulen. She's starting to look sheepish, like maybe she has begun to notice that there are flaws in the plan of summoning a random person.

"But I can too do complicated old spells," says Saasnil, "he'll see."

"I do believe that he will. You will return me, once he has? Or at the very least give me a place to sit, the floor is uncomfortable," says Adarin, flatly.

He waves at his illusionary not-the-right-kind-of-dragon, and it disappears. Adarin fixes Korulen with a somewhat judgmental look.

"Tell me. Is it common to summon 'random people' to show off to your peers?"

The door opens. It's an elf bearing a strong resemblance to Korulen, and he doesn't look happy.

"No," he says. "It is not common. Nor permissible nor wise."

"...Eeep," says Korulen.

"Then at least your society is somewhat sane," says the human in the circle. "Good day to you, sir."

Adarin inclines his head. Parental figures are good, and this one doesn't seem to have the same insanity his own mother caught.

"Will I be returned home in the same condition I left it?" he asks, reasonably. He's just a little bit nervous.