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Lilian Rook     Practically none of you are supposed to be here, but this is the one day ever that you're technically allowed.

    Nova Heliosanctus has been a constant subtle backdrop to Lilian's life since she got to the Paladins. There'd seldom been room for visits, gifted only to a few now present today, but many more have seen her uniform, her books, her studies, seen her farming material for presentations and moaning about exams. Some were there for the social lives of her notorious school friends. Some were illegally in contact with them when Lilian was in need. Twice. One particular idiot even snuck in and caused an absolutely hideous scene. So, it seems just the slightest bit strange to think of a future without it.

    The allowance for 'friends and family' is what gets you seats. You know that straight off. Without Lilian's express insistence on the letter, rather than the cultural expectation, of the rules, most of you would probably never set foot anywhere even half this fancy. Even then, she has exhaustively demanded that you dress nice, and don't talk to anyone about unnecessary things. Looking a little witch-y or miko-y seems to fall into form, but entire suit ensembles will arrive along with a mail bomb before anyone shows up in shorts. The visitor's pass you receive looks pricy enough already, having your names and affiliations embossed in gold leaf and everything.

    You're actually not sure specifically where this place is, but that seems to be par for the course when it comes to anywhere located in the the unofficially (and half-reclaimed-half-derogatory) named Phantom Circle area. A Warpgate has to be set aside to individually tune to a more conventionally magical reception point, which deposits you in in an overwhelmingly ostentatious hall that is already beginning to buzz with activity.

    Lilian's family home is a little grandiloquent, but it is also inarguably old-fashioned. A historic residence for a once-larger clan built far away in the countryside; and it shows. This is different. As the top rated school in the country for an already vanishingly small elite minority, 'historical' is an aesthetic the marble halls, vaulted ceilings, oak and mahogany walls wear like a fashionable coat. Between gilded pillars, brass-cage magical lamplights, flowering atriums under rainbow skylights, and the vast geometric designs etched into the very floors, every footsteps echoes grandiosely, every breath tastes like money (and faintly poisonous magic, for the unprepared), and every door to every room menaces with intimidating propriety.

    The big difference is that you have cellphone signal, today. None of your electronics crap out at all.

    You're given directions down only a few hallyway junctions, partially shared with other parents, siblings, partners, and particularly cunning scouts, and bid into a chamber with sufficiently soft lighting and warm dimness that you can instantly imagine it's an auditorium. The crimson carpet here swallows the noise of your footsteps rather than amplying it, as you're guided around the railed balcony in a wide ring, and brought to your own section of box seating, with its own closed door and everything.

    The schedule, as it seems, has only twenty three students listed as graduating. As expected of a school with this purpose.
Lilian Rook     Overlooking the cardinal walkways to the crescent stage below, you're given a little time to mill around the comfortable balcony compartment alongside a teak minibar, a silver antique refreshment cart, and three other people besides you.
    A tall dark-haired and green-eyed man in a suit, seated just ahead of the bar, up at the front, superficially occupied with a laptop.
    A woman in slightly old-fashioned Sunday best, black hair tinged with modern (old) violet fade, to match her eyes.
    A young lady with a striking red ponytail and green eyes wearing several plaster bandages on her fingers and cheek, a dark green dress, and a smugly satisfied expression.

    By the young lady, an out-of-date video camera has been set up on a tripod, aimed at the stage. The older woman is excitedly fiddling with a cute smart device of unknown brand, texting on an app with a video window, and holding it up with a smile to record you as you arrive.
Trudy Grimm     Despite her self-doubts and recent traumatic experiences, the chance of Trudy Grimm missing out on an invitation from Lilian Rook is absolutely zero. Whether it's cavorting in the mountains with dangerous foreign agents or attending fancy galas, not even the great flame jotunn's awakening could keep her away. And so the witch is in attendance.

    What's even more shocking than Trudy's arrival is her appearance. For the first time in the years she's associated with Lilian or those around her, she's cleaned up her appearance. Normally shaggy hair has been exhaustively brushed silken smooth and done up in a bun instead of a ponytail; ringed with interwoven braids, all held in place by a single hairpin with a little skull on the end.

    The dress is simple, but that's the sort of taste Trudy has; a knee-length black thing with juliette sleeves and a closed collar, white piping acting as accents on her body and along the hem. Tall black boots cover her legs and her forearms feature fingerless fishnet gloves that go all the way up into the sleeves. Of course, it isn't Trudy without her obsession with loosely dangling charms and trinkets, though she's limited those to a necklace and bracelets, positively laden with little bits of metal, ceramic, gemstones, and bone.

    Trudy has no purse but carries the Grimoire in the same fashion, hanging off her shoulder by its strap, dutifully buckled shut. This version of Trudy Grimm could almost be mistaken for another person entirely. Who knows what was threatened to get this woman in out of her fuzzy boots and into heels.

    She spends her time being guided to seating drinking in the opulant surroundings. When at last entering the auditorim itself, she stops, glancing up to take in the grand setting with a big shark-toothed smile on her face. In the dim lighting, the dull green glow in her eyes is more obvious-- and moreso when she realizes she's being filmed, glancing towards the woman and her device. Trudy's head tilts back and to one side a bit in a clear sort of 'this is my good side' sort of posture, lifting one hand to wiggle her fingers in greeting, her smile uninterrupted.

    After a moment playing to the camera, Trudy catches up with the rest to take her seat, with the Grimoire ultimately resting in her lap.
Ishirou Ishiriou had shown up tonight, he wasn't going to miss Lilian's graduation.  There had been a lot that happened between them recently, but he would still try to be there for her the best that he could.  Maybe it wasn't good enough, in his mind, but he would try!  Being there for others is what he would try, and there was nobody else in the world, save for a few select others, he would be there for at the drop of a hat.  

Ishirou is in a short-sleeved teal button-up with a tailored black sleeveless formal jacket on top, almost close to an understated corset, with a few silver buttons along the sides. The somewhat taller collar is matched by a cravat, with a small and simplistic silver brooch. This continues down into a matching half-skirt over black shorts, the front of the skirt open and only continuing down to a bit below the knee, and the lining is done in that same teal.

A short black mantle is draped across his shoulders, with a teal 'cybernetic' design inlay and a silver chain holding it together. He has black ankle boots with a few straps along the front and more buttons and a pair of fingerless gloves with a similar inlay to the mantle.

It wasn't something he wore often, and despite everything he would rather dress in concealing clothes right now given his... robotic nature, but right now he could and would put that to the side so that he could be there for Lilian.  He takes a breath and walks into the balcony area.  Already put off by the camera pointed at him, he sheepishly waves and takes a few steps forward to take his seat.  
James Bond      James arrives by way of a black 1987 Aston Martin V8, with a fresh coat of wax. The car's distinctive headlights and softened square profile evoke (for those more than passingly familiar with cars) a bridge between a halcyon golden age of motorsport and the modern era.

     Dressing nice has never been a problem for him--so no more bombs than the expected average for him are necessary. Today's ensemble is an immaculately tailored navy windowpane suit, paired with a white button-up, a matching tie, lapis lazuli cufflinks and black calf leather dress shoes, freshly polished. Naturally, the ensemble is rounded off with one of his standard-issue watches (a striking piece with a blue dial and a steel bracelet), although he hardly expects to use it today for anything other than checking the time.

     As he navigates the marble halls, Bond's stride is purposeful, punctual, but not hurried. A few pleasantries exchanged with faculty in passing, and he's found himself ushered into what must be the auditorium. Bond's steely blue eyes don't look as hard nor as cold as they have in the past--and his smile looks genuine.

     The bar is noted, as is the older woman smiling and recording. Bond gives her a little wave. He'd been asked not to discuss 'unnecessary things,' which he personally has sorted into 'most anything not related to the ceremony.' Holding a copy of the schedule, he makes a bit of small talk about the graduation.

     "Twenty-three," he says. "The best of the best. Exciting, isn't it? To see all of that work formally paid-off." Bond steps over to the mini-bar and idly peruses the selection.
Kale Hearthward After receiving those explicit and emphasized instructions for dressing nice, Kale goes on an entire mini-adventure, starting with doing a deep delve into the local dress and expectations, then a trip to one of Gilgamesh's many brand stores for some base outfit pieces, touching them up with accents from his extensive room-sized closet, refitting everything via an evening with needle and thread, and a brief dungeon dive for the right jewelry pieces.

"Slightly magical" is the theme of the day. Vaguely but not extremely wizard-ish robes, in a nice riptide green, accented with lavender jade jewelry, accessories, and accents, all carefully chosen coordinated to make a triadic complement with his tan-palette feathers. No hat, and - after some consideration, also no cape - but he does opt for a matching scarf to complete the look.

The visitor's pass with the gold-leaf Chevalier Kale Hearthward, Paladins Search & Rescue, East Wind Squadron does clash a little bit, though. Hopefully it's fine to keep that in a pocket instead of on a lanyard. (Kale doesn't really get that past a certain level of class, you don't do lanyards.)

He's sufficiently awed by the house and the decorations, and many of the people. How many times over could his life fit into just the property?

He goes to grab a drink to steady and steel his nerves a bit (the thought 'Lilian will skin me alive if I ruin this' is foremost on his mind), makes sure the camera captures his good side, and then opts to go bother the person with the laptop in order to kill a bit of time.

"Tell me you aren't working during a graduation event?" he asks him. "Especially one as exclusive as this one?"
Tamamo     Tamamo-no-mae has interpreted the implication of 'dress nicely' in a direction that might be most easily described as 'like a movie star attending her own premiere.' There's nothing of the witchcraft-user's garb, today, though her evening cocktail dress is in her customary blues. It trais long and dark, like a clear sky turning to night, short enough in front to show that the deeper color of her tights match her elbow-length gloves, and that her customary distance from the ground is being maintained in a manner other than her usual geta, with the click of heels swallowed by the thick carpet.

    An obi is one method of hugging tightly to one's waist, but the effect is more pronounced when done solely through fit. The dress sparkles when she moves, dazzling only faintly in the room's soft lighting, though the contrast between those blues and the warmth of her glow is the more eye-catching. It is, by majority, a glow in mostly-harmless invisible spectrums noticed only by mages, but that may happen to include most of those present, today. All the more so the smile she shows to the first recording device aimed openly in front of her, on arrival, as she takes a moment to shrug an adjustment of the loose, black shawl draped low on her shoulders.

    For all that, her tails might still form the stronger contrast, even without the brightness she'd shown in on that theater's stage.

    Her first target, in finding a seat, isn't to the one recording. It's to the woman who shares the same green eyes as one of the twenty-three graduating, to finger a drink in passing the bar so lightly it's a small surprise it comes away with her, to look out over the room, and say, "It has been some time, has it not?"

    That could mean a good many things.
Futaba Nuki Futaba's a friend! Kind of. She's certainly one of many in the camp of admirers, but she's got one thing many don't: She's actually worked with Lilian in the past! Plus, how often does she get to celebrate someone's graduation?

Almost never, really. That's why, when  she gets the invitation, Futaba actually puts a significant amount of effort into fitting in rather than just showing up in her everyday clothes. No, when the self-described ninja hero arrives, it's actually in a subdued outfit that doesn't really scream... Anything? Anything. No flapping scarf, no giant tail, no dramatic explosion of a landing to announce her presence.

If she hadn't been seen with her more natural brown hair before, it's entirely possible Futaba might not even be recognizable to anyone today. She arrives wearing a light beige kimono with a white leaf pattern decorating it, and her usual gold bracers are hidden by the longer sleeves of her outfit draping over them. Even her tail blends in somewhat with the pattern of her kimono, although she's still reluctant to hide it completely just to maintain some kind of recognizability should Lilian happen to look her way during the ceremonies.

She's also looking a little bit on edge, too, as though she's wary of getting any kind of attention for once. Lilian's counting on her not to talk about unnecessary things or make a scene, after all, so showing up in a busy hall could make that really hard! Shrinking her tail doesn't actually come to mind just yet, but she does keep it held close to her back while heading down those hallways and gawking at everything in passing.

It's not often Futaba gets to really see the inside of a human college with permission, so it's all rather fascinating to see. So many people, so much joy, so much excitement, and she can actually participate in it! In moderation. Soon.

The siren's song of the refreshment cart can't be resisted for long, though, and Futaba finds herself drifting towards it before long. She orders a warm drink (coffee with soda), then spots the three strangers nearby. The bandaged lady immediately gets her attention, of course, and her first instinct is...

Resisted! She really wants to ask about the bandages and what that look on her face is for, but... Futaba has to behave. Instead, she forces herself to look over at the older woman with the outdated camera,  smiling politely and holding a hand up by her face in an uncharacteristically gentle wave of acknowledgment. Between that and trying to spot Lilian at all, maybe she'll be distracted from thinking too much about what kind of cool things that lady with the bandages did to get those things.
Petra Soroka With that, Petra's eloquence runs dry, and she turns away from Matthew Rook's corpse and leaves without another word.

    ... To head home and get changed for Lilian's graduation party! More specifically, to head back to Lobotomy Corporation, dispose of the psychic-suicide-inducing murder weapon, pick up the Eggpack, then get dressed at her apartment. The only thing more gauche than showing up to a graduation ceremony drenched in the new doctor's father's blood is to show up *underdressed*.

Dressing up is, actually, a severe issue for Petra, for reasons that have as yet gone unexamined. It's not a skill she typically practices, instead choosing to look like a sort of nonbinary street rat, and though the necessity of overcoming that mental block is far stronger than her aversion to it, it still takes her some time to settle on an outfit. Tamamo's gift of funds for CasGil is lightly dipped into, to make sure that, despite the awkward nineteen year old canvas, the materials placed on top of her will at least be up to par.

    Petra walks around the balcony like she's scared of making even the tiniest sound on the carpet, stiffly overwhelmed by the atmosphere. She wears a brown collared sweater vest, braided white knit running down each side across the shoulders, over which is a cardigan to cover the rest of her arms. It's elevated somewhat by high waisted black pants and low-heeled brown boots, and *complicated* by the ever-present black collar with gold lily ornament, taking the place of a necklace.

    On her wrist is, rather than the clunky, unfashionable Eggpack, a tablet displaying Angela in chibi-form. For this event, Petra used her hard-won knowledge of Eggman's robotics design to detatch the robotic arms from the Eggpack and put them on the tablet, enabling Angela to have some level of autonomy while not clashing with the aesthetic *too* drastically. To that end, the robot arms are also clad in dark blue sleeves with ruffles on the ends, to ensure they're dressed well too.

    Even in the family chamber, Petra is visibly out of her element, but the presence of others (at least, some of the others) is at least reassurance that she isn't alone. Her smile at Cecilia, when she's recorded coming in, is that sort of politely-overwhelmed smile that any gangly teentager has when invited to a function beyond the level of dignity they're used to having, like a fifteen year old at a wedding. It softens slightly, though stays nervous in another way, when actually looking at Cecilia instead of the camera.

    "Hi, Cecilia. Um." She turns to the other two family members, struck silent by the sudden realization that she *also* killed *their* father a short few hours ago. "And, um. It's nice to meet you, Bryce, Katrina. I'm Petra." She stutters into a half-bow, and then freezes and blushes pink, not sure why she did that.
Angela Angela wasn't going to miss this. She does see Lilian as a friend, the first one she ever made (besides Benjamin but that relationship is definitely on a knife's edge)! Angela, as a person, can spend a lot of time not talking at all, she spent loops being basically wholly silent. BUT! She is prone to pontificating when pused but so long as she avoids that tendency, she imagines she can avoid causing Lilian trouble even if she hasn't asked what qualifies as unneccessary but she imagines she can just be silent if need be.

But there was a problem. Namely, Angela has to telecommute and she can't send an Agent to this sort of event. Not even Nonon and Shajo, who arguably have worked with Lilian a fair bit at this point, would really be appropriate and even if she could send Sephirah, Gebura would be coarse and Hod would probably distract everyone as they decided they needed to capture her or something. Not even viable as a hypothetical.

Instead, Angela has asked Petra to take her so that she could visit her friend's graduation in some form at all.

A backpack is not particularly formal so Angela is here on the tablet. Petra has temporarily moved the robot arms to the tablet and the tablet itself is wearing an adorable little shirt and jacket with ruffled sleeves and a cravat that covers the lower half of the pad, leaving only Angela's face to peer out from the tablet itself.

She naturally is not drinking anything because tablets do not have mouths. She bobs her head quietly and politely and will describe herself as a ''friend'' to anyone who asks how they know each other. Her eyes slant around, focusing on Bond and raising an eyebrow at Ishirou but ... it's good that he's here, right? ... It is hardly her business.

It seems there's only twenty three students graduating. "..."

She looks towards the three others, taking them in in turn. The dark haired man. The woman with black hair. The woman with a ... red ponytail who happens to be injured as well.

Angela closes her eyes for a moment. She mimics breathing in and out, and then opens her eyes again.

Being recorded ... The odds of someone from The City seeing such a recording is so minute as to not worry about, but she has to be more careful than she has been.

She stiffens as Petra goes to actually speak to someone!

"...Ah. Hello." At this point it would be weird to not introduce herself. "...I am Angela. A friend. Of The Dame Commander. I had to telecommute."

She bobs her head. Strictly neccessary, she thinks.
Lilian Rook     'The best of the best. Exciting, isn't it?'

    "Nerve-wracking." the man at the front says to Bond, who'd been easily the least examined on the way in here, to the point he might've assumed everyone else was thinking the rest were his attaché group. "But I'm happy with this. Everyone who needed to be here, is." After a second, he turns from his laptop, and holds out his hand for Bond to shake. "I've heard about you. Nice to finally see you in the flesh. Not that it isn't my fault for not swinging by." In all other ways the Correct shape of British high society man, all that stands out is how calloused his hand is.

    'Tell me you aren't working during a graduation event?'

    "I should be." he says, with a certain tone to it. "So I'd like to look like I am." The corner of his mouth twitches. "It's my third time, so I suppose it's easy to forget. Especially when the place hasn't changed, but for fewer students."

    'It has been some time, has it not?'

    "Samhain, right? Haha, I guess it has." says the lady. "No, there was one time after. But I'm really, really happy you're here, Tamamo. I wasn't sure at first, if you two were going to last that long, but . . ." She trails off, then laughs. "Let's talk more from now on, okay? I really had to rush to get here in time!"

    'Hi, Cecilia. Um.'

    The woman behind the tablet waves with all the enthusiasm that can be contained in such an effortlessly proper little hand-wiggle. "There you are, Petra! I was wondering if you'd-- oh, they didn't give you too much grief, did you? And I do mean 'too much', you know, on account of everything."

    Petra has, in fact, gotten plenty of grief in the low-grade form of hostile stares, a couple of whispered slurs, and a few overly purposeful collisions. She gets a little more, in the form of "Oh! Hi! Haha, you're the shitty brat that broke my little sister's heart, right~?" "I wish I could say that it's nice to meet you too, but it really isn't. I've knocked out bigger men for less."

    Cecilia still manages to smile through the double greeting. "Ah, maybe explain that to the triplets later?" she says to someone on the opposite side of the tablet viewfinder. "For now, let's all remember that Lilian wanted us here, yes?" Bewilderingly, the other two mutter a surprisingly cooperative "Yes ma'am." "Yes ma'am." The latter looks over to the former and motions at the tripod camera. She nods. "I'm gonna be editing it later anyways." "Then I'll thank the lord that woman doesn't know what a livestream is."

    '...I am Angela. A friend. Of The Dame Commander. I had to telecommute.'

    "It's a pleasure to meet you dear!" says Cecilia. "I see, I see. So Miss Petra has been-- so it's like that. No need to say a word." She winks so subtly that it could have easily been merely imagined. "Some very special children wanted to see, that's all. Don't you worry at all." she says. "Lilian talks about all of you more than you know. It's a point of pride of mine that I make sure to always remember what I need to." She, of course, makes certain to wave to Tamamo as well, and politely leave a seat between her and Katrina.
Lilian Rook     It's only a matter of a little more time before the warm upper tier lighting starts to dim. What remains, swerves smoothly to focus on the stage, and catches in the glimmering lines etched into the cardinal walkways surrounding it, highlighting the gilded knots and symbols drawn into the equilateral cross.

    A presenter of some certainly great importance and some indeterminately middle-advanced age makes his way up, to a wave of respectful applause from every balcony. The student seating, on the ring below you it seems, is significantly louder. You could assume him to be the probable headmaster, but the Lore doesn't seem too vital.

    "He's getting up there now." is Bryce's dry remark. "He should hurry up and die, right? Ah, but maybe he deserves a few more years, after finally giving it up back in '77?" says Katrina. "Now now, please be good for the triplets." says Cecilia, tapping away at the cherry red messenger app. "And it was '78. I remember because I had to write a letter over it." Bryce smiles for just a moment, at some chagrin-worthy memory.

    Surrounded by this cozy company, the details of the commencement speech fade into a certain kind of glittering haze. A grey-streaked old man in archaic finery, straight out of a movie adaptation of something, up on a gauzy-bright state, delivering a lengthy traditional opening in perfect, booming gravitas, and then a personal addendum over time; you could imagine it on your own time, really.

    A mention of unprecedented times, of opportunities within the broader Multiverse that now exists, of representing the school's excellence to countless other worlds, and cautionary words about remembering the fading past, with its old friends and enemies, are what stand out as more than simply rehearsed.

    "He didn't mention the Paladins at all last year."
    "Yes. I read the transcript. Some allusions, here and there, but not so much as a mention of a Warpgate."
    "No investors? Hahaha~"
    "He'd be silly not to, this year."
    "Surely. Enough has happened."
    "No, that's not quite it. It's only wise to part on best terms, isn't it? Paying a little of respect badly due to the star student of his entire career, so that she might forget the bad and remember the good some years from now, is what old people like us do. Always thinking of our retirements, ha."
    "Ceecee you aren't old!"
    "I know. I know, networking 101. A lot of kids are going to hear all about the Paladins, though. Some of them might get curious, and look outside the country. The world."
    "That's wonderful. The best children I've ever known besides you three are out there, after all."

    The roll is getting called up by name. A couple are recognizable; Eleanor Rose and Sabrina Edevane. The rest are generically unimportant. Alas, it seems Tamamo's efforts as matchmaker have proved fruitless; there is no Vance to be found on the list. Partway through, a soft knocking comes on the door. A gaggle of older students, two male and two female, stand clustered outside. They make eyes at Petra, and ask to speak with her for a moment.
Futaba Nuki With so many familiar faces, how could Futaba possibly not greet them? Even unfamiliar faces get some curious looks, despite Futaba's intent to keep a low profile. She's heard Trudy speaking before, but seeing her with that fancy grimoire now has her fighting not to go and ask incessant questions about what sorts of things are hidden in that book.

She'll just have to remember to ask about that later.

Ishirou gets a curious look and wave in greeting followed by a well-practiced smile that's still suppressed to keep Futaba from looking too excited about the occasion. The stare, though, is just a little too long to be a casual 'how do you do' kind of look, like something about him is making her stop and think for a moment even as she does that same slow wave in greeting that she did for the lady at the camera.

It's absolutely the colors.

That, or she might just be spotting James Bond in her periphery and trying really hard not to get too hyped up. Although Futaba's only been on a few jobs with him before, actually seeing him again in the flesh still forces her to divert her attention before the staring can go on way too long. Thankfully, Kale's a familiar enough face that she can calm down a little bit, and Futaba greets him and James with a casual wave as well. "Good evening, Mister B... James. Mister Hearthward. Lovely event, isn't it?"

It still feels so weird talking this way, even if.. No. Especially because it's with co-workers.

Tamamo's more prominent outfit actually has Futaba relaxing as well, largely because it's hard not to imagine her drawing eyes between her esteemed status and her relation to Lilian. Naturally, that gets Futaba wondering if anyone here that isn't in Lilian's circles actually knows about that, but she's not about to bring that up.

Besides, it's easier for Futaba to blend in this way. With that self-imposed weight off her shoulders, she can afford to start greeting people verbally, and that's just in time for Petra and Angela to arrive in personal and tablet forms. Petra gets a curious look from Futaba when she utters some unfamiliar names and greets some unfamiliar people, and Futaba has to turn her head to hold back a quiet snicker at seeing that sudden blush.

Even if she doesn't know what that's all about, Futaba still has to resist the urge to tease her just a bit. She has even more questions popping up in her head when the lady answering to Cecilia actually seems quite familiar with Petra, too, and it's almost impossible for Futaba not to try and eavesdrop at that point!

Good thing Angela's there, since she can play it off as getting distracted by the well-dressed tablet instead. "Hello, Miss Angela. It's so good to see you again. Looking forward to the ceremony...?"

She almost wants to add the 'and' at the end there to ask about food, but then she remembers that Angela's in a screen. It's probably not polite to ask her about that when she's only able to show up that way.

Soon, the lighting goes out, and Futaba's attention shifts to the stage next! She doesn't really recognize anyone up there, of course, and the chatter in the crowd below the stage is far more interesting than whatever's going on up there thus far. It's the sort of chatter that's enough to draw a light sigh at times, but she can't discount how effective hearing about the Paladins could be for aspiring graduates.

After all, hearing those amazing stories about so many people just like a certain star student is exactly what drew her to the Paladins in the first place. She's just waiting for said star to finally show up.
Trudy Grimm     After reviewing the schedule for a moment, Trudy produces a small crystal ball in her other hand. It's about then that the lights start dimming and she tucks it away. Perfect timing, though maybe, she wonders, she should've socialized a little more before sitting down.

    She doesn't pay particular attention to the pleasantries of the commencement speech, instead glancing aside when Lilian's siblings and maid start whispering amongst themselves about it. Her attention lifts when the box's door is knocked on.

    Rather than get up, the witch gestures with one hand, not even unfolding her arms. The copious shadows from the dimmed lighting deepen and, from within their abyssal depths, emerges a tall man in tarnished black armor. There is a bow tie clipped on to the bevor, in front of his helmet. Fortunately his sword is missing.

    It is this large man, green crystals protruding from gaps and holes in his armor, faint points of green glowing behind his helmet's visor, that actually opens the door and looms over the gathered students.

    "Can it wait? We're watching the ceremony." Trudy speaks up from her seat, "I certainly wouldn't miss my friend on stage and I doubt she wants to either. How insufferably rude."

    To emphasize how rude the necromancer thinks this interruption is, the Black Knight leans forward, out of the doorway, towering over the students.
Kale Hearthward Oh, Bond gets recognized. Kale Hearthward doesn't. Let's not take that personally.

> "Good evening, Mister B... James. Mister Hearthward. Lovely event, isn't it?"

"Miss Nuki. Glad you could make it. I was a little worried we'd lose one or more people, just on how many turns it took to get here."

There's more people coming in. Kale gives a nod to Bond, of course, and Ishirou and Tamamo if they venture by, as well as Trudy and-

- Wait, Petra? They let Petra in here?

No, it makes sense. She's in Lilian's inner circle, after all. In a way that he isn't. Oh, give it a rest. She'd naturally get an invite - and Angela with her, it looks like. Practically a two-for-one.

... Also, Petra turns out to clean up nice. Huh.

> "A lot of kids are going to hear all about the Paladins, though. Some of them might get curious, and look outside the country. The world."

"Oh? Well, maybe we'll see some of them apply. Hopefully the applications will go well if they do, the Paladins are a select group." Kale needs to slide in an opportunity to rep the faction at least a little.
Ishirou Ishirou isn't sure what the meaning of Futaba's lingering stare is, and it makes him... self-conscious.  He shrinks a few inches and shakes his head as if to try and persuade her to move on to staring at other things.  He has no idea it was just the colors.  Ishirou takes a steadying breath and unshrinks, trying not to collapse into a black hole of embarrassment.

He also notices Angela's look, and he waves at her.  Perhaps a bit shyly, but still upbeat!  Likewise, Tamamo and Bond get glances, waves, and smiles.  He doesn't ignore Trudy, who gets a small wave, and Kale who is greeted too.

Petra is the only one not greeted, though he passes a look at her.  Though it isn't withering or anything... just a neutral look.  He doesn't like her, she doesn't like him.  Better to leave it at that and not cause a scene.  This is reinforced when Cecilia admonishes the other two.  Reminding them all who they are here for, and not who they like or dislike.

"I'm glad she does... talk about her activities in the multiverse.  She's... amazing, you know?  Heroic and willing to help with anything like a hero does.  It's inspiring!" he says, more upbeat as he speaks to Cecilia.  He folds his hands over his lap and watches the proceedings.  Talk of the Paladins gets his attention.  

He nods to Kale, "Yeah, I hope so too!" agreeing with the bird about wanting to see more people from Lilian's world out there.  
Tamamo     Tamamo notices Petra but doesn't yet seem inclined to comment on posture or outfit. The noticing is difficult not to notice, despite how brief it is. The reaction from the Rook siblings doesn't leave much for her to add, anyway.

    'Let's talk more from now on, okay? I really had to rush to get here in time!'

    Tamamo glances at the bandages, just once, in the kind of way where it's a subtle gesture in itself. "You have been busy, of course. I would love more opportunities to chat, and I suppose you do know where to find me. I intend to last... quite some time. Oh, but I suppose that need not be said. How could one wish otherwise, than to protect one's love?"

    Looking to the side before moving to her seat, she gives a smaller smile and nod to the brother. "As for us, I believe we have not yet had the opportunity to meet, master Bryce." There's a vague sense of translation in that address having been imprecise, but she could hardly call him 'Mr. Rook' without confusion, and it's not as if he's younger than her current incarnation. Some things are just difficult like that. "I should be glad to include you, have you the time to spare."

    Knocking people out for being somehow similar to Petra is already something to endear him to her. It's a good first impression.

    Before moving to her seat and thinking to ask Cecilia about 'triplets,' Tamamo takes the brief time necessary to acknowledge the other Paladins present -- and Angela, with a small smile for the care taken in dressing up her tablet. It's only brief, since they're all here for something else, and she does want to know, "Ms. Cecilia, you are recording for some three in particular, is it?"

    They make eyes at Petra, and ask to speak with her for a moment.

    "Ms. Soroka, did you have occasion to make friends within this school?" Several of those words are chosen with an air of uncertainty to their appropriateness or, perhaps, a heavy trace of suspicions unnamed.
James Bond I've heard about you.

     James, having made himself something amber-gold in an on-the-rocks glass, shakes Bryce's hand. "Nothing but good things, I hope." Petra's earlier introduction sealed it--these people are Lilian's family. So, that's what she meant by 'unnecessary.' Fair enough. His handshake is firm, and his hands are callused, too; but probably not for the same reason Bryce's are.

Nice to finally see you in the flesh. Not that it isn't my fault for not swinging by.

     "Quite alright," the spy assuages. "I'm hardly the easiest to visit." He takes a sip, then takes his seat. "Busy schedule, lots of travel."

     He quiets down when the opening speech is rolled out. It's all more or less what he expects given the caricature of a headmaster--which is, in itself, somewhat unexpected. Magic is still quite alien to him, after all. What has him sitting more alert, subtly leaning forward, is the talk about the significance of the more improvised elements.

     "I hope the Multiverse we leave those children is better than the one we stumbled into. Fairer," he says. "Kinder. But I've got lots of reasons to believe in them." Bond sips his Negroni, then nods towards the student assembly. "Especially if that generation has Lilian to look up to."

     The knocking escapes Bond's notice, at first, slipping into the background noise by virtue of its softness. It isn't until he recognizes it -as- knocking that he thinks to look curiously over his shoulder. Then, glancing over at Tamamo, as if she might have an answer for it in Petra's stead. No--but she'll field it, which is good enough.

     It's at that moment that he chooses to turn back around. In so doing, he acknowledges the woman staring into his skull, just as she averts her gaze.

     "...Good evening, Futaba," he says, wearing an amused smile despite the very valid question Tamamo just asked.
Angela Angela has quietly stared at those who have bumped into Petra--she has plenty of time to recognize the bumps are purposeful. She hasn't spoken, but does look so that what occurs is known to be witnessed. The audio input to the device isn't as solid as someone who actually is present is going to pick up but Angela does make a note to look up what has been said at a later date.''Lilian talks about all of you more than you know.''

Angela thinks about Cecilia hearing about 'the fuckless cretins' for a moment.

"My apologies." Angela says gravely enough that it can be taken as serious or as a joke.

''--so it's like that. No need to say a word.''

Angela has no idea what Cecilia deduced and is too proud to admit she doesn't know so she just says, "Understood. Thank you."

Futaba asks Angela if she's looking forward to the ceremony. It's a complicated question in some ways as she's never been to an event like this before but... it is a normal event for normal people and it's an important moment, even if it's also a bit of a silly moment, a milestone for someone she cares about. Is it the sort of thing you look forward to, though?

"Yes." She says. "I am always pleased to see capable people receive the accolades they earned."

She calls Lilian the Dame Commander more than she calls her Lilian and similar is pretty insistent on referring to Captain Hook as Captain. Is this ... neccessary communication?

Angela gives Ishirou a nod, her gaze lingering on him for a moment, and then onto Kale, who also gets a nod because she doesn't know the line 'practically a two-for-one' is a thought he had.

"It is important to expand the breadth of one's world." Angela says carefully about the matter of the kids going out to explore outside their world.

She quiets down as the roll gets called up.

Some students ask to speak to Petra. Angela's gaze turns to them. "Is this." She says in mild, soft tones. "Appropriate at this moment?" She supposes she genuinely isn't sure, but...she's skeptical!
Petra Soroka "Oh! Hi! Haha, you're the shitty brat that broke my little sister's heart, right~?"
"I wish I could say that it's nice to meet you too, but it really isn't. I've knocked out bigger men for less."

    Petra stays locked in her weird half-bow, staring at the ground with her expression frozen in a smile somewhere between awkwardly polite and guilty.

    "Y-yeah. Yes. That's, me. I wasn't sure if-- how much. Sorry." Petra pauses, Angela-less hand gripping at the hem of her cardigan and nervously twisting it around. The first impulse that drifts across her mind is offering to put Angela down so Bryce can knock her out if he wants, but a moment further of thought discards that as a meaningless performance of contrition that would be seen as trying to cheat her way into buying forgiveness. Getting punched isn't a replacement for listening. At best, it's a convenient addition.

    "... Hurting Lilian was the worst mistake of my life. A-and I'm-- I'm never going to make up for it, but I-I'm dedicating myself to trying to make her life better than how much worse I made it. I know I'll never really earn... forgiveness, or trust, or anything like that. And I won't ask for it. S-so um-- th-thank you for looking out for your little sister. She's my favorite person in the world. S-sorry."

    Petra stays there for a second, fists clenched by her side, before shuffling away and finally straightening up again, in that order. She waffles around the chamber, not taking her seat even as the headmaster's speech starts and ends. She has a premonition, that she shouldn't get too comfortable sitting down for the ceremony. That, or she's just too weirded out by the atmosphere, still.

    She quiets down and goes respectfully still as people get called to the stage. The narration mirrors her mood exactly: Eleanor and Sabrina are noted and paid attention, and the others blend together, their names slipping out of her mind the moment the announcer finishes saying them. At some point, she found herself holding a drink-- she has absolutely no idea what kind, and accepted it only in a fit of nervousness-- and takes sips from the glass with both hands wrapped around it.

    Long after Cecilia actually says it, the meaning of 'some very special children' clicks in her mind. Petra suddenly feels incredibly self-conscious from the gaze of the camera, wrapping her arms around herself to place the Angela-tablet in front of her chest like a shield. The next time the phone camera passes over her, she looks diagonally at the ground rather than at the lens, and awkwardly waves a single hand without untangling her arms. "... Hey, kids."

A gaggle of older students, two male and two female, stand clustered outside. They make eyes at Petra, and ask to speak with her for a moment.

    Petra grimaces a little, her shoulders drooping, and puts the glass down at the bar with a forlorn expression. She reaches into her back pocket, pulls out her compact mirror, and flips it open, reaching into it to grab onto Qetra's wrist and pull her out into the chamber.

    Qetra, for her part, is better dressed than Petra, solely for the fact that she manages to wear a proper formal dress. Purple highlights and black collar are still present, but her typical Petra-like attire is replaced with a brown dress with white floral patterns and a cardigan, a more femme iteration of Petra's current clothes. Petra sighs and unclasps the tablet from her wrist, handing it to Qetra to wear.

    "Sorry, Angela. Qetra will carry you for a bit." After pulling the strap tight, Qetra picks up Petra's glass with one hand and gives the tablet a thumbs up with the other. "Aye aye! You can count on me, Ange~"
Petra Soroka "Can it wait? We're watching the ceremony."

    "Come on. Don't be such a bitch. You don't even, like, know me." Petra walks up to interpose herself between the skeletal knight and the students, flicking her hand back at the sword dismissively. "I'm here for Lilian, not the whole ceremony, anyways."

"Ms. Soroka, did you have occasion to make friends within this school?"

    Petra is, technically, not currently under the effect of Tamamo's contract that would immediately kill her if she lies. This simplifies the matter of answering such a complex question, since no matter how truthful she tries to be, the attitude that Nova Heliosanctis as a whole takes towards Petra is far from positive.

    Petra looks at Tamamo, formulating an answer in her head for a few seconds. "... I came here before, once. Ma'am." That answers that. Nowhere Petra's been once before is a friendly place to her.

    After soothing the collective fussing, Petra acquisces to the students, stepping outside with them. "I-it is important to me that I-- well. I-I'd like to see Lilian go on stage."
Trudy Grimm     When Petra calls Trudy off the students who came to meet her, the witch shrugs. The Black Knight steps aside, lifting one armor-clad arm to rest across his belly as a butler would. It is not very convincing.

    "Suit yourself, Petra. Just make it quick, we don't want to miss her." It is honestly no skin off Trudy's nose, after all. If that's the response she gets for thinking of another's desires, she casts it off instead.

    > "Lilian talks about all of you more than you know."

    "I hope she hasn't told you *too* much," Trudy quips brightly in Cecilia's direction, "Or I might have to just evaporate on the spot. Creatures like me, we don't do well when a light is shined on us." She ends that line with a good-natured giggle, shifting her eyes back to the stage.
Futaba Nuki 'Miss Nuki. Glad you could make it. I was a little worried we'd lose one or more people, just on how many turns it took to get here.'

"Right? There were so many hallways, and who knows where they could've led." Although Futaba's acting like she's still engaging in small talk, there's still that hint of curiosity in her voice about what really is down all those halls that everyone's been pointed away from. Little does she know... It's a school. For all she knows, it might not even be remotely as interesting what's going on here. Futaba still has to wonder, but for Lilian? She'll behave.

Mostly, anyway. Ishirou's reaction to her staring gets Futaba's otherwise controlled smile to widen just a bit in actual amusement. She can't hold it together completely, breaking into a brief snicker before giving him some manner of peace and turning her attention elsewhere while pretending she's just coughing for a moment.

Listening to James' comments about the future certainly does the trick. Even though Futaba's practiced polite-society smile stays where it is, there's a slight glimmer in her eyes that hunts at how impressed she is. The fact she murmurs "Cool..." in an awed, hushed tone kind of makes that obvious, too. "Gotta learn how to put my thoughts into something that profound some day... Kids these days definitely got way more heroes to look up to between you and her and everyone even younger than us, that's for sure."

Feeling some of that fire returning to her gut, Futaba nods firmly at Angela's answer. She might not have the same thought processes as Angela, but there's a distinct level of respect in her tone as she answers. "Definitely. And these are all earned ones, too, coming after she's already done all sor... I mean. Accomplished all manner of feats inside and outside of here."

Futaba can't settle too much into her relaxed speaking just yet. "That's the way it should be. She deserves much more, but this is a good start."
Lilian Rook     'Oh? Well, maybe we'll see some of them apply. Hopefully the applications will go well if they do, the Paladins are a select group.'

    "So I've seen." says Bryce. "I might worry for them a little. If even Lilian had trouble, it can't possibly be easy." he sighs, a little too knowingly. "Not that too many of them will join the corps like yours. The spirit of heroism fades, as it should, in an era of peace. Hopefully, they'll see the other worlds from the position of someone who can help without a sword in their hand." Bryce glances aside, and nods by barely four degrees. "I think you might know well enough, Mister Hearthward. Between us."

    'I'm glad she does... talk about her activities in the multiverse. She's... amazing, you know? Heroic and willing to help with anything like a hero does. It's inspiring!'

    Cecilia beams at every single word. Rapid tapping into her tablet doesn't distract her the slightest from chatting up Ishirou with gusto. "Oh she went a long time hardly ever talking about school you know! Before she met you all, she'd practically given up everything else. Her drawing, her flowers, her books . . . I remember she was so terribly unsure of herself back then; if she could really have what she meant to, you know? Still finding out for herself how much she could ask from the world, how much others might give her, and how much she could take for herself."

    "But even back then, Lilian was always so dead set on some certain things that I could never imagine it any other way. Even when she was unsure of herself, or whether it was even possible, or when she tried to hide it, I knew she was. I can't thank you all enough for giving her the opportunity to show it. That girl deserves more than anyone to know that good things can come to good people, too."

    'You have been busy, of course. I would love more opportunities to chat, and I suppose you do know where to find me.'

    Katrina laughs sheepishly into her hand. "I'm always keeping busy. It's a bit of a bad habit of mine, hahaha~" she says. Her tone falls, then bounces back again shortly after. "I couldn't tell you whether it's wanderlust, or a sense of duty, or what. But I think . . . knowing Lilian is fine, and that things are . . . better, here, now . . . for some reason, I like the idea of coming home more. You know?" Pulling out her own smart device, she's lightning quick to tap and swipe towards Tamamo. "Call me any time babe~" she says, with a wink and a facetious tongue-poke. "Be careful! I'll be checking in from now on! I've gotta make sure you're good for my little sister, you know? Haha~"

    'I should be glad to include you, have you the time to spare.'

    Bryce looks at least marginally surprised by that. The expression half-resembles Lilian's. Like she'd learned to appear casually disarmed, but still smoothly in control, from him. "I wouldn't mind at all. If you'd been wanting for the opportunity, I apologize for not being available. I've been of the impression that it would be better to leave alone something that was working fine."

[ansi(243,    'Ms. Cecilia, you are recording for some three in particular, is it?')]

    Cecilia effuses absolute joy at Tamamo's presence. "A few precious darlings I met at an orphanage, Miss. It was only a little outing with just myself and young Lilian, but I happen to remember it fondly."
Lilian Rook     Just faintly, Bond might come to think that Bryce's hands are calloused by something similar, even if not the same. A man of his experience can feel it in the grip. On the fingertips and the pad of the palm.

    'I'm hardly the easiest to visit. Busy schedule, lots of travel.'

    "Wouldn't I know it." says Bryce, finally seeing to pouring himself something too, now that someone else has.

    'I hope the Multiverse we leave those children is better than the one we stumbled into.'

    "That was my hope, too. Decades ago, but it's still not all gone, I suppose." he says. "I'm reminded of it, all of a sudden. Maybe it's the way you sound."

    'Understood. Thank you.'

    Cecilia beams with the tremendous pride of a mom who just got their daughter's friend's pronouns right at a birthday party on her very first try.

    '... Hurting Lilian was the worst mistake of my life.'

    "Yeah! It was."

    'A-and I'm-- I'm never going to make up for it'

    "You're right. You aren't."

    'I know I'll never really earn... forgiveness, or trust, or anything like that. And I won't ask for it. S-so um-- th-thank you for looking out for your little sister'

    ". . ." ". . ."

    'She's my favorite person in the world. S-sorry.'

    "Yeah. Mine too." "It should better stay that way." The two of them turn away from Petra with one last look at Cecilia. The unstated understanding here is that they obviously know enough to gather the broad strokes of Petra still being around; they simply haven't had their chance to hate her yet. Not enough, at least. "I hope I can continue to trust you to make every effort to listen to Miss Tamamo and make up for all of your misdoings. Even Lilian was troublesome at your age, so I believe in you to turn yourself around." says Cecilia. It's so warm, it almost doesn't register as a stern reminder. It doesn't stop her from putting Petra on camera to wave, though.

    The students in the doorway flinch back from the looming black knight, but hold their ground a few feet away from the door. The fact they'd come here at all seems to have selected for the handful with backbone in this school. Something that registers in the way they receive Petra expectantly with folded arms and silent glowers. "Thank you very much, ma'am'." one of the girls says to Trudy. "We'll bring her back when we can." says one of the boys. They look to the end of the hall, and march Petra off with their gazes.

    Given that the students are just being called up now, there's still some time for her to make it back. The roll is going alphabetically by last name, and so Lilian will still be a while.
Kale Hearthward > "I think you might know well enough, Mister Hearthward. Between us."

Yay, recognition. It's enough to bring Kale's mood up by several notches. It's the little things.

> "Not that too many of them will join the corps like yours. The spirit of heroism fades, as it should, in an era of peace. Hopefully, they'll see the other worlds from the position of someone who can help without a sword in their hand."

"Plenty of swordless positions in the Commonwealth, too. A bunch of them pay a lot better than the sworded positions, even. Those who die for the greater good hath their reward, and all that."

Kale pauses. "Actually I should probably say 'more prestigious' or 'more challenging' - I doubt this group of graduates are going to be in dire need of biweekly paychecks, right?"

> "Wouldn't I know it."

Since Bryce is going for a drink, Kale takes that as his cue to refill his. As he's doing so, something occurs to him.

"Actually, on that topic - what do you do, Bryce, that's so important you need to drag a laptop around? I don't think I heard, and you've got me curious."
Tamamo <J-IC-Scene> Tamamo says, "Oh, I wonder what happened in '78. I suppose I shall ask... some other time."

    '... I came here before, once. Ma'am.'

    "Of course," says Tamamo, in a tone of somber, almost resigned, knowing.

    Then Qetra shows up, and if anything could have prepared Tamamo for the sight, no one had made the effort that she would be. The circumstances being what they are, she only goes as far as staring a silent, flat-toned 'what' into first the side of Qetra's head, and then the back of Petra's, rather than saying anything about it. Angela is still here, and Petra is... being taken out behind the bleachers. Alright. Fine.

    'Her drawing, her flowers, her books . . .'

    "It is difficult to imagine, having seen how much she enjoys her arts, now." Tamamo hasn't even seen some of the drawings that others have, the sneak-thieves of years ago, though she saw plenty during the year of the sorcerer's apprenticeship. There felt as if there was more time for it, then, without the need to travel. The moment of reminiscence is fond, and puts other things out of mind.

    'Call me any time babe~'

    "My, are those words you would say in front of her? I wonder just how she would react..." Tamamo's smiling at the thought.

    "But then, perhaps I have noticed something the two of you share, even on that night." She doesn't say what that is. No sense in adding extra burden to editing down the video for the triplets. The barest showing of teeth, a bit sharp for someone wearing something as civilized as an evening gown, are as much as she'll reflect her impression from that earlier meeting, tonight.

    "To be more willing to come home when... ah, it does have a greater sense of 'safety,' perhaps? A 'home' should be a place that is 'safe,' after all." That's the kind of thing to muse upon while slowly twirling her glass, the liquid not quite reaching the rim.

    'If you'd been wanting for the opportunity, I apologize for not being available.'

    "You are surely not to blame, for I have not been as forward as I might have been." Though he sort of is. Tamamo had always gotten the impression from Lilian that Bryce 'couldn't' be around, and that 'this is fine,' but it's true that she hadn't really pushed on it, either.

    "I should be glad to come to know you somewhat better, for we are like to have many important occasions on which to meet, in the future." She can't say anything about 'because you're family.' Not in the case of the Rooks. Maybe she can build up to that point. She hopes it'll come to mean something more, even if the parents are... well...

    Tamamo had had to look it up later to determine that calling her 'an oriental' wasn't a polite form.

    'A few precious darlings I met at an orphanage, Miss.'

    "Oh, how wonderful." Tamamo's nothing but sunshine for Cecilia. She'll have to take a moment to say hello to 'the three of you,' even without knowing them, through the camera, and give them another wave and smile. Maybe with both hands. Are they too old for that? No, it doesn't sound like it, but...

    "You do seem to greatly enjoy caring for children, Ms. Cecilia. Do you feel... a need to find more for whom to care, as those whom you have raised reach adulthood?" There's a little more than passing curiosity in the question.

    Something in the conversation between Bond and Bryce registers, for Tamamo, and she consciously gives them space to talk. She is, of course, still listening. Her big ears are good for that kind of thing, but her attention distributes more of itself elsewhere.
Angela What did I agree with.

Angela bobs her head absently to Futaba. She's handed off to Qetra who assures her that she can be counted on. Angela almost repeats 'Understood' before saying, "I'm sure. Are you enjoying your experiences outside the Train?" She gives the thumbsup a nod since the idea of giving a thumbsup to someone...

Tamamo is staring at Qetra. Angela looks to Tamamo and considers how to explain Qetra to the bunrei. Her eyes slant up towards the heavens for a momet before telling Tamamo, "Her name is Qetra. She is a friend Petra met on the train who happened to be her reflection."

... Maybe, she thinks, that isn't the best way to describe Petra.

She looks to Cecilia, "May I ... Pardon me, I have not had the opportunity to talk to the Commander much about her local family. Are you..." That smile gives her a certain vibe. "Her mother?"
Trudy Grimm     "In one piece!" Trudy insists, raising one hand without looking at the boy promising to bring Petra back. To emphasize, the Black Knight leans out of the door again towards the group, his helmet rotating slowly as they all walk off. Only when they are out of sight does he lean back in and close the door to the private box.

    It's a few more names she doesn't particularly care about before Trudy realizes that Petra is still in the private box. She hadn't seen the mirror trick that brought Qetra into the space, but upon realizing that A Petra who is dressed distinctly differently is still here, the witch closes one eye in thought, "Didn't you just step out?"

    Angela explains it, prompting Trudy's eyes to move from Qetra's face to the tablet she's holding, and then back, "Oh. Well, nice to meet you." She unfolds a hand to gesture to herself, "I'm Trudy, if you didn't know. Trudy Grimm, a witch of little reknown. Was this the same train Kale was on about not too long ago?"
Lilian Rook 'I doubt this group of graduates are going to be in dire need of biweekly paychecks, right?'

    Bryce adpopts a knowingly strained sort of grin. "These kids-- no, these people, will find whatever they need, when they need it. This isn't the sort of school that prepares you for 'contributing to society'. It prepares you for running it. They were only a little more honest about it back when I graduated. Before it was all an open secret."

    'Actually, on that topic - what do you do, Bryce, that's so important you need to drag a laptop around?'

    "Logistics. Readiness forecasts. Trend monitoring." he says, half-guardedly. He barely vocalizes the rest. "For the GDF."

    'I wonder just how she would react...'

    "She'd pout." says Katrina. "And get soooo embarrassed. And it'd be the most adorable thing in the world!"

    'To be more willing to come home when... ah, it does have a greater sense of 'safety,' perhaps? A 'home' should be a place that is 'safe,' after all.'

    Katrina clutches her arm and glances down. Rather unsubtly, given her relation to Lilian. Even she knows how ridiculous it looks to be talking about safety in her current state. "That's right. Or maybe you could say 'peace'?"

    'I should be glad to come to know you somewhat better, for we are like to have many important occasions on which to meet, in the future.'

    Bryce smiles. Katrina's is more like Lilian's than his is, but it's still nice to see. "I'm certain we will." he says. "Ninety six percent or so, by my reckoning."

    'Do you feel... a need to find more for whom to care, as those whom you have raised reach adulthood?'

    "Haha, I wouldn't know what to do with myself otherwise, Miss Tamamo." Cecilia says. "I began with her mother, you know. Back during the Great War. The household used to be much livelier in those days, before . . . So I've found myself with a bit of a dearth of things to do." She looks over the viewfinder, at Tamamo directly. "But you know Miss Tamamo. I think I might have the luxury of spending it on myself, these coming days. So if you happen to wander into some children in need of an expert. Of course." She all but audibly winks.

    'Are you...Her mother?'

    Cecilia freezes instantly on the spot. Momentarily forgetting about even her smart device, she opens her mouth to say something, stops herself short, and turns her gaze down to fidget with her hair instead. "Oh my. That . . . Oh my. That's lovely of you to say. But--"
    "Yep!"
    "Yeah. Pretty much."

    Cecilia turns red. "You two--!" she huffs, then looks to the screen in alarm. "You as well! Oh my goodness!"
Lilian Rook     One by one, young star players to-be in the future of the unified global climate, surrounded by the age and wealth of the former British Empire's secret history, are summoned for their commencement. They are mostly names that none of the Elites have ever heard, belonging to bright young men and women on that edge of genuine adulthood, but it isn't hard to get a general picture of them, for the fact that this school takes in, and accredits, so few, that each one is allowed an entire speech to themselves.

    Majors in applied prognostics and alchemical theory. Degrees in geomantic engineering and sacred mathematics. Everything ordinarily taught at a typical university is considered a 'minor', from what you can tell; something required for every student; finance, sociology, communications, earth sciences, psychology, typically that sort of thing.

    Each of them come down one of the four walkways, from out of the hall entirely, dressed in strikingly understated, if clearly expensive, commencement attire; dark neutral and cut with red and gold in the school's colours; sleeveless sashed dresses for the girls, and neatly tied suit tunics for the boys, each with a visibly ancient sort of woven bracelet fixed with a braided and knotted cord, whose particulars in complexity and colour escape casual understanding.

    A certain blonde comes up under call for a Master's in Lifecraft Applications and an economics degree. Her speech drags on nearly ten minutes, and she can't help the urge but to wave to your balcony, it seems. Her matching Brunette comes later, now significantly diverged in height after all this time, here for a Master's in Sacred Earth-Geometry, a postgraduate degree in Alchemical Materials Science, and a psychology Minor. She, too, feels her need to at least raise a hand as she departs the stage in applause, after a two minute list of thanks and three minutes of vagueposting.

    And then, ostensibly saved until last,

    "-pleasure to present this year's highest scoring student, and the highest performing apprentice Enlightened in this school's entire modern history. In addition to her commendable one hundred point First-Class Imperial Honours, today receiving a dual Doctorate in Human Template Origin studies and in Aetherial Dynamics, with a degree in Biology as well, she has represented our academy with distinguishment in the highest halls of the Arx Zenith Immunes, and brought this establishment onto the Multiversal stage with her extracurricular work as a first class Chevalier of the Commonwealth Paladins."

    "This academy is impossibly proud to have been blessed with the opportunity to guide and foster her growth, and we warmly anticipate her support in the shared fate of our academy, our country, and our very world. No other has graced our halls with any equal in academic excellence, Traditional achievement, and willingness to risk life and limb for the future of humanity. I present Dame Commander Lilian Isabelle Rook, Ring of Solstice, Station of the White Crown."
Lilian Rook     
    Though it's a matter of ceremony that Lilian arrives in the same overall dress as the other students-- a tradition common to practically every university ever-- it'd be a lie to say that she doesn't stand out anyways.

    The realities of this sort of school mean that none of her classmates aren't good-looking, none of them don't know how to have presence, and none of them don't know how to speak to a crowd. This is practically the national training ground for political icons and socioeconomic starlets. But she's still just different.

    It's because she walks up on stage like this is an enjoyable formality. Not the biggest moment in her life so far, but praise that she is already overdue. Even the dullest person in the room can feel at least the vague shape of it. The way she holds her head, the places where her eyes deign to go, the immaculately graceful steadiness in every step; it all belongs to a woman who has already overcome far greater challenges than this, and after seeing a world much wider than this one, has made time for a little part of the homeland of her soul.

    The finely plain-tailored dress only accentuates how years of athletics have set apart her figure. The lack of sleeves displays what years of swordfighting have done as well. The subtle scar under one eye and over the nose lends a sense of mythic significance to otherwise transcendentally perfect makeup and tied-up hair. The lily pin fastening it practically glows with reflected light. A black-striped wristband bumps edges with diamonds on her arm. By special dispensation, the black chain stands out against pale skin at her collarbone.

    There is no possible way to mistake her for anything as simple as the top-scoring student. The way she turns to look at the audience, when taking her turn to lift the old-fashioned wand from the stand and touch the glowing tip to her throat to amplify her voice, tells anyone who still needs to know that she isn't from their world any longer. Not really. The crowd is the most silent it's been all night; so much that you can faintly hear excited whispers and gasps from the students below.

    "Thank you, chancellor. There's little else I can say about this school. Though I will be moving on to do even greater things, in places I'd never even imagined when I first arrived here, nothing will ever quite take the place of the memories I've made here. The faculty I've known, the students I've met, the shape and the sound of these halls, will forever be something I keep with me and cherish."

    Lilian takes just one deep breath to break up pleasantly and purpose.

    "Though the work I've fallen in love with over the last few years will take me far from the course I imagined with my studies, I don't plan to do nothing with what I've learned, here. There is much more to this world than I ever believed, out there, and I view my learning here as a valuable tool to understanding it in new and unconsidered ways."

    "The unique perspective that I've gained here is what has lead me to know that our goals cannot be so simple as to embody our ideal selves. That the ceiling of not just magic, but every part of our world, is so much higher than we know. That what there is to discover, we still can but barely imagine. I hope to show you that in our future, we might dream of even more than 'the perfected human', or 'the pristine Earth'. My wish is to show you how that ideal humanity is perfected even in ways that humans are not. That the Earth can be something that is ours in ways that have yet to exist."

    "Taking back our world, learning from our neighbours, advancing the long, long work of our esteemed ancestors, towards the height of magic and discovery; these are the first and second steps. And I am overjoyed to now have the opportunity to show you, not long from now, just how many more beautiful steps there are."
Lilian Rook     "To those students in the audience, those junior to me, and those who are about to enroll, I leave you one important advisement. The world we live in isn't easy, and it isn't simple. If you find yourself feeling that things in your life are either, I urge you to push beyond it. It is deceptively easy to imagine someone exceptional for lack of ambition as much as profusion of talent. And by the same token, it is all too easy to imagine someone terribly weak when they seem to struggle with very little; especially yourself. So, if you ever find yourself in that place instead, please remember as well, that someone might be far stronger than you can imagine, and only carrying burdens matched to the very limit their ability. Be kind to yourselves even as you are demanding. And be demanding of others even as you are kind."

    "Thank you all very much for coming. I look forward to seeing you all in the future, as a Nova Heliosanctus alumna."

    She's barely turned back to the chancellor to physically receive the documents in his hands before the applause is out. There's a different quality to it, than the others. A certain kind of energy within the student body, kindled for the first time. A kind of tangible, spiteful relief, in many. A sense of reluctant finality in few. Eleanor and Sabrina manage to stand out in their hollering over some of it. By the time Lilian descends the stage, other students have joined them.
James Bond I'm reminded of it, all of a sudden. Maybe it's the way you sound.

    'Decades.' Anagathics? His hands were like mine, too. Away with some of the formalities, then.

     "The way I sound?" asks Bond, with an interested, disarmed smile. "I hadn't given it much thought. But it makes sense."

     He pauses. "It wasn't easy, to come to a point where I'd sound 'this way.' To be honest, I didn't have an awful lot of hope, myself." Bond takes a sip of his cocktail. "But I did have inspiration, from some exceptional people--like Lilian. To do, and be, better. To put myself into something with the intent to build, not just keep something alive, artificially." After another pause, "Logistics is a difficult line of work. So I'm glad to have given you something to smile about, I suppose."

     Bond is only passingly familiar with Petra--they've been copresent only a few times. He's heard about some of the worse things she's done, and he's read the reports. He's frozen, pretending to watch the ceremony, then, when she apologizes to Bryce. A very vulnerably given, sincere, anxious apology--part of him thinks that ought to count for something.

    Another part thinks about the worst of what he'd read, and that part is the one that provokes an irritated drag of his thumb across the glass. The ice cubes clink gently.

    Gotta learn how to put my thoughts into something that profound some day...

    Futaba manages to get him out of his head. Or perhaps he was eagerly looking for a reason not to be there. "The trick is knowing which ones to say and which ones to keep to yourself," he says, briefly watching Qetra's emergence. He doesn't look directly, but rather observes, from the distorted reflection on his glass. "A lot of things are like that," he says, as Petra slips out the door.

Security here is looser than normal, but still very well in order. She wouldn't be here if she weren't wanted here.

     That thought, and another sip of his drink, put the issue on the back burner, if not entirely to rest.

That girl deserves more than anyone to know that good things can come to good people, too.

     "Hear, hear," Bond agrees, lifting his glass. Bright thoughts are easier to indulge. They seem less frightening than they once did--less likely to fly away when least expected.

     He does come across like a distant uncle or family friend of sorts, asking 'who is that' in spite of himself, quietly, regarding Eleanor and Sabrina.

...she has represented our academy with distinguishment in the highest halls of the Arx Zenith Immunes...

    She looks like she belongs there, on that stage. And somehow, like she's outgrown it, even if she's enjoying it. Bond leans forward in his seat, both feet flat on the floor (he'd crossed one over the other, during some of the longer speeches). He sits, listens, and finds himself moved by the advice Lilian gives. Not the first time.

Be kind to yourselves even as you are demanding. And be demanding of others even as you are kind.

     Bond lifts his cocktail, smiles, and downs the rest of it.
Angela Angela wonders what Lifecraft is and makes a note to inquire about that later. Along with Sacred Earth-Geometry. Alchemical Materials? Well that she can imagine.

Cecilia freezes--and for a moment Angela feels she may have gravely miscalculated. She readies a 'My Apologies' but once Cecilia speaks, she realizes that won't do.

Instead she extends one of her mechanical hands to rest it on Cecilia's.

"Thank you for looking after her." She says, offering her the only smile of the night. The sincerity might be worse than a joke but Angela may never have occassion to really talk to Cecilia or the rest of her family for a very long time, not in private like this. "I meant no ill." She does not go into detail about her connection with Lilian. That's unneccessary, outside of 'friend', and maybe even saying this to Cecilia might be unneccessary but she knows what a family of choice is and she almost certainly owes this woman she barely knows more than she ever will know.

She might have said more, but Lilian gets up on stage. And she listens.

ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: Angela has learned Lilian Rook's middle name!

Angela listens to what Lilian has to say, she allows hte smile to linger for her speech, for her speech and no longer. The robot hands applaud politely, if awkwardly, when it is done.

It is a speech she cannot ever forget. It is indelibly recorded in a mind that will never forget unless Angela finds a way to--but even if she finds a way, she'll never forget how she felt in this moment.
Tamamo     'Her name is Qetra. She is a friend Petra met on the train who happened to be her reflection.'

    "I see," says Tamamo. "I may recall hearing something of that sort."

    She doesn't feel a need to introduce herself to Qetra, even when Trudy does. Technically, she hadn't done so for Bryce, either.

    'And it'd be the most adorable thing in the world!'

    "Glad am I that we are in agreement," says Tamamo to Katrina, smoky voice carrying a tone akin to a deep purr.

    'That's right. Or maybe you could say 'peace'?'

    "Are they not the same?" Tamamo has to think about that one, and doesn't come to an immediate answer. Of course, the words have distinct meanings, but in this context...

    'Ninety six percent or so, by my reckoning.'

    'How terribly precise,' Tamamo doesn't say, but affords the smallest smile, and files away that she's learned another thing about him.

    'Are you...Her mother?'

    After several answers are given, Tamamo touches an inconspicuous gold bracelet, barely seen against her glove, passes her fingers in a pattern while looking into the middle distance, and sends Angela a text message. "I'll tell you later."
Futaba Nuki 'The trick is knowing which ones to say and which ones to keep to yourself,'
"Wow... That's deep, Mister B-er. James. And you just had that ready to go..." Futaba replies to James with a light chuckle, furrowing her brow after a moment while stroking her chin. "Or maybe... It just came to mind at the right time? What about all those..."

A beat, and then she clears her throat lightly while remembering where she is. "... Er. Improv comedy? When you're on... Stage?" She's trying to be subtle about trying to hint at his quips, but the winking is anything but subtle. She should be paying attention to the rest of the ceremony, and she can at least look like she is, but...

So many names, and truly none that Futaba recognizes. It's alright, though, because it means there's more time for the anticipation to build for when she can finally hear a familiar one.

Eventually. Even though there's only a little over twenty of these graduates, it still takes longer than she'd expected. Futaba's no stranger to lengthy ceremonies or hearing all manner of words she's half-paying attention to, but so few of these things sound like anything she'd personally bother with.

At least she has a brother she can talk to about finances and communications. The rest, not so much. It's a good opportunity to sample the other refreshments that are available, though, more than likely eating an entire meal's worth by the time she starts hearing about someone she actually knows.

Futaba almost cheers upon seeing Lilian coming out on stage, but that deafening silence all over as the crowd waits for her to speak is all Futaba needs to intuit that she sneeds to sit and listen first.

Even if it's not intended for her specifically, Futaba feels all of it in her gut. The severity of the situation the world is in, the motivational words presented to the hopeful students looking to folow in Lilian's footsteps, and especially the urging to push beyond the easy, the simple, and those seemingly contradicting words of being kind and demanding.  She can easily recall those times she's done too much demanding without kindness and vice versa.

Naturally, Futaba is among those cheering the loudest once Lilian finishes. She gets to cheat in doing so, of course, since she can expand her chest and head just a bit without mucking up her proportions too noticeably, and she can clap harder without worrying about hurting herself, but a lot of that noise is also just genuine celebration for someone she's still looking up to even now.
Petra Soroka     Qetra notices Tamamo staring at her, and at first, she doesn't say anything either, but it's just because she's anticipating Tamamo to say something first. She lights up a bit at the attention, negative and disbelieving though it may be, and bounces on the balls of her feet lightly, like a dog excitedly pattering around when it's stared at.

    It's not until Angela speaks up that she realizes why she's being stared at. She scoops up the glass and holds it loosely in front of her chest, sauntering over to Tamamo with a cheerfully springy step, unlike Petra's ground-scuffing shuffle. With her other hand, she pinches her dress for a little curtsy in greeting.

    "Tamamo-no-mae~!" Full title, without the stiltedness that Petra has when using it. "I totally forgot we hadn't met before ahaha. I'm Qetra! Like Angela says~ she met me on the Train. I'm sort of a person because Petra sort of isn't! So feel free to boss me around whenever you like too~"

"I'm Trudy, if you didn't know."

    "Ahaha, I recognize your face, at least! I totally didn't remember your name, though, but that's sort of just how it goes for most of you people~ and there's Futaba, too, and Kale."

    Qetra points at each, proudly demonstrating how good her memory is and how continuous her consciousness is, before landing on Cecilia. "And miss Cecilia! You can all just treat me however's convenient, aha. I'm mostly just here to hold Angela while Petra's getting beat up and spat on." With that normal statement, Qetra makes sure to find her seat well before Lilian goes on stage.

    Meanwhile, down the hall, Petra is getting beat up and spat on.

    "Ugh-- okay-- fuckers-- I can *hear* Lilian-- ow-- getting announced, so-- hhhhhh-- I'm watching whether you--" Petra yanks her hand out from beneath the heel of one of the students, reaching into her pocket to pull out her compact mirror. She doesn't intend to hurt them, but she *is* voluntarily opting-in to this collective corporeal punishment, and she'll opt-*out* when she needs to. She'll just flip it open, and ask Qetra to hand over the transteam gun, and then she can watch--

    Petra stares mournfully at the reflectionless mirror before getting kicked in the side of the head.

    "No, wait-- please-- actually-- like, for real, I want to-- *ow*-- like ten minutes?? For the-- fuck-- for the fucking-- khhhh-- speech--?!"

    In the end, Petra manages to watch Lilian's speech through the bottom of a railing, milk dripping from her wet hair.
Trudy Grimm     > "I recognize your face, at least! I totally didn't remember your name, though..."

    "Of course," Trudy flicks some fingers dismissively, "You're the sort who only bothers to remember very specific people. I understand."

    > I'm mostly just here to hold Angela while Petra's getting beat up and spat on.

    "Of course she is." Trudy reaches up to her face, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. When finished, she flicks her hand again. The Black Knight opens the door, steps out, and closes it. Without hesitation, he starts down the corridor he watched the group vanish down.

Meanwhile--

    "Isabelle?" Trudy mulls that over thoughtfully, "I've known her how long and never realized she had a third name." The witch shrugs lightly, not dwelling on it. Middle names must not be a tradition where she's from. Another thing to learn about the illustrious Lilian Rook, whose shadow she lurks within (from time to time).

    "It's lovely," the witch states confidently to nobody in particular, "The perfect three-part name for the sort of hero that would--"

    No. None of that.

    Trudy visibly shakes herself out of a self-destructive thought and refocuses on Lilian's inspiring speech. The delivery, the poise, the confidence, and an uplifting message about avoiding complacency and striving to be better. Trudy finds herself nodding along in agreement and; by the end, she's applauding in earnest.
Tamamo     Qetra introduces herself.

    "Oh, I see," says Tamamo, in a way that sounds like she isn't interested, but a look like she's already pierced through layers of subtext and will put them to dangerous use.

    '...while Petra's getting beat up and spat on.'

    "During the time Lilian and her classmates are to speak? The timing is terribly impolite." Tamamo doesn't specify to what extent she considers this impoliteness and distraction from Lilian's moment to be Petra's fault, but that proportion increased when Trudy's assistance was refused.

    Returned to watching the proceedings, polite patience far in excess of ten minute speeches, Tamamo lightly raises one hand in return, to the waving, expecting they won't see anything subtler from that distance. She would have brought a fan, but none quite went with her dress. Foreign fashion can be difficult.

    Sitting on the edge of her seat or leaning over a railing just isn't in her reflexes, but Tamamo is still at rapt attention when Lilian takes center stage, and brimming with excitement in a way that's almost literally palpable, when the applause begins. Her energy is something radiated without motion, her posture perfect. Her own hands come together with no more than the expected volume, easily lost in the din, but her eyes won't be.