A magician without a stage.

The biggest heartbreak of being sent to America was not the dread of going to a new country. This was something that the boy did many times in his life, and he loved to do so. No; as he walked up through the gate, suitcase in hand and cage in the other, his heart sank. The Entrance of this big school had so many nice, public places. If this were any old school, any old place in the world, the boy could make big money off of it. However, this was a place where people knew what his tricks were. Knew that he was different.

Callum Quinn's first unusual attribute was his accent. A school in a loosely populated area in central United States probably wouldn't be too use to foreign people settling down, but Quinn's power brought him here. Power; he could change things invisible, himself and standard items. No car or building, mind you, but a coin or rabbit would do just fine. Rabbit; the third thing was the little white hare that he carried within a cage at his left hand. It stayed frozen in place, save for the rocking of its prison sliding in backwards. Its butt was against the cage furthest from where it was facing.

Callum was also a con artist. These terms were loose, as one expected trickery in his profession. The boy spent his afternoons giving magic shows to tourists and passerby people in the heart of Belfast's grand city. His trick, however, was that he had no talent. He didn't need it. The boy would do what he said he would do, make a quarter or bunny or watermelon disappear, and people would think of it as a clever illusion. In a way, it was clever. Just not as they thought.

Where were these initiate dorms? Quinn sullenly walked past the favorable public gathering spots and looked around for what looked the most like a newbie dorm. No luck; all the buildings looked the same: old and brick. Did he have to ask for directions? It seemed so.

"Excuse me, ma'am." he motioned to the girl closest to him. "Could you direct me to the initiate dorms?"

His accent was mostly a British one, as his father was from the UK's main island. However, his mother's Irish flare escaped every now and then, mingling with the words he said. It created a subtle mixture of the two, with the British side beating the Irish one with ease.

Why was it always so damn cold here? Even inside she still needed about 10 blankets to keep from freezing. Honestly, she couldn't remember the last time she needed a heater in Australia. Did they even use their heaters, or was it all just a trick to make her think she was warm? She wouldn't doubt it.
And don't even get her started on the outside. The brunette had been walking home from one of her classes, all bundled up in layers on layers. She had been informed that it wasn't always this cold, and that it was sure to warm up soon, but she had a hard time believing that.
Emelia was perfectly content on her mental list of complaints about the weather, and she probably would have gone all day if someone's voice didn't pull her away from her thoughts. "Sorry?" She took a moment to process what he had said to her before her eyes widened and she nodded sharply. "Of course! You want me to take you there? I don't mind." She answered enthusiastically. Perhaps it was a norm for students to show new kids to their dorm. She thought back to when Penny had done the same for her, and figured that in a roundabout sort of way, she was paying her back for that by helping someone else.

"Ooh. Splendid." said Callum, rather surprised by her enthusiasm. It seemed that Americans were pretty nice in an isolated place such as Montana. Though, Callum internally shook his head. That wasn't an American accent, that was Australian. "Lead the way." he invited in an attempt to begin the expedition to the initiate dorms. The boy simply wanted to put down his stuff and walk around some more. The bag felt sore on his shoulder, digging into the center of its flesh through his shirt.

Emelia nodded, before turning and walking in the general direction of the initiates dorm. Wait. It was the smaller dorm right? By the lounge? But which one was the lounge? Why did they all have to look the same, anyway? Okay, this one was the Summer dorm, because that was where she slept.
She turned to look over at the stranger and smiled lightly. "So, I'm no expert on American accents myself, but I don't think that one is. Whereya from, if you don't mind me asking?" She said, searching for conversation and the dorm. Maybe she'd distract the boy from the fact that she had no idea where she's going.

"Come on Ms. Australia, I thought you of all people would know." Verona chirped, rounding around the corner and facing the two head on with a cocky grin. "British right?" Not that she really cared. Verona just liked being the center of attention and had seen the perfect opportunity. She had just been meandering down the hallways on her way to her dorm when she had heard the two and decided to approach.
"Name's Verona by the way, and you are...?" The brunette turned to the boy with a tilted head, and gave a small wave. She never had been a huge fan of handshakes, to her the whole gesture was for old people. But Verona did offer up a smile, which should've been enough in itself. "So where are we headed?" She asked, looking from Emelia to the new kid.

"Erhmm..."
The encounter surely was a surprise, as well as a speedy one. Before he knew it this girl had curtly joined their squad to head to the initiate dorms. Quinn gave a light smile at the greeting, thought it was a bit half hearted and confused. Verona, huh? Well, she was rather rude, but the boy was being too quick to judge. Perhaps she would get better as they drew closer to his temporary quarters. Perhaps...

Emelia was a bit surprised as Verona came practically out of nowhere, but she smiled and rolled her eyes good naturedly nonetheless. "Having an accent doesn't make me an expert." She shot back lightly. Looking over at the boy, she realized she didn't know his name. Though, she hadn't shared her's either. Well, let's change that. "I'm Emelia, you can call me Em. Or, apparently, Miss Australia." She laughed lightly at the nickname. She raised an eyebrow in question for a name before turning back to Verona. "I'm showing him to his dorm, if you want to tag along." She didn't know why she offered, as she was fairly sure the girl would do what she want with or without an invitation.