[X]...mentoring your followers
In the end, you spend your final months in the Academy honing what you already taught the other students. They were already good pilots under your care; now they are great. You also instruct a few in personal CQC and marksmanship. But more than that, you teach them to teach, to pass what they learned to others. As well as the fundamentals of the old code of Gjallarhorn. Live well, fight well, rule resolutely. To guide with wisdom and mercy, to consider each and every strike, but to strike with fury and ruthlessness. You don't expect them all to obey it - but you know them well enough that most will follow it in spirit if not the letter. You quietly tie it into their discontent with the hierarchy, and reassure them that you will always look out for them, once you have your station. It is a risky move, but one you feel will pay off in the end.
[X]As it was intended, in the Inspection branch.
And that position lies with the Inspection Bureau. While the scent of petty, teenage rebellion is tempting, you think better of it. Iznario may have lost his interest in you in the old way, but gained it in regards to your position as heir. You have already been described as "bright" and "capable", and people are already prophesying you a long and fruitful career. And while you have many, many issues with Iznario Fareed, you will give him that he is a man without waste - he will use what he has until the last drop, while discarding wasted investment without hassle. Too much is at stake now for you to openly defy him. But you also know that his view is not all-seeing, and there will be many positions in the Bureau for you to occupy out of his sight. And besides, what greater victory would there be, to turn his own resources against him?
***
[X]Rebeca. Sometimes to watch a serpent you have to keep it close. Plus, who knows who she knows?
You are kind of surprised and intrigued that Rebecca offers to be your companion for the prom. There are other, safer choices, but you feel that a small self-sacrifice is a insignificant price next to getting a better ready on arguably most enigmatic Seven Stars heir. She was capable, but without direction or opinion on the current Gjallarhorn; if nudged in right direction, she could become a powerful ally...
....or at least, that's what you say to yourself. There is still a deep seated uncertainty within you about her, one that troubles you in light of noon and wakes in darkness of the day. Who is she really? And why did she approach you?
The day approaches, and you ready yourself appropriately. Your dress comes tailor-made from under some of the best hands on Earth, and from materials that only a Seven Star can readily afford; soft and sublime like silk, but strong enough to slow down a bullet or garrote a throat. Your dress itself is simple piece of white cloth, but your accessories aren't; a deep blue shawl in tradition of wearing House colors, accented by exquisitely crafted sapphire earrings and elaborate silver choker with laser-etched patterns. Years of your previous...occupation taught you how to apply just enough make-up to make you even more attractive without making it garish.
You arrive at your school just after Rebecca, who waits at the entryway as your respective chaperons make themselves unobtrusive. Her dress is made of tiny, glittering scales, polished to almost pure blackness. However, on closer look you notice that light gives them a greenish tint, making Rebecca's dress shift between midnight black and dark green. Her hair is more poofed up and spun then her ordinarily straight raven locks, and you notice a golden necklace with genuine pearls - each worth enough to buy a Graze squadron given that clams were all but extinct these days.
Rebecca does a mock-bow towards you, offering her hand as you walk forward. The ordinary normal main gate of the school has been polished up for today, together with plush red carpet that was rolled out. Already normal students gather around it, whispering as they see the two of you pass.
"I must say-" She whispers into your ear. "-I was not expecting you to take me up on the offer. You seemed rather close to that Bodouin heir."
"What can I say." You whisper back to her, keeping a light smile. "Sometimes a girl has to live dangerously. And besides, I do love to tease Gaelio."
The outside chatter only picks up as you walk into the reception, two different versions of beauty like Day and Night. Gaelio spots you pretty much immediately, his face flushed pink and hanging open before he picks himself together and walks towards you. Unlike the usual, he's in his smart tuxedo, one tailor-and-order made as befitting his status.
"Lady Balzac, Lady Fareed." He stops a little before you, doing a classic gentleman's bow before he picks you hand, much to Rebecca's amusement. "You look lovely today."
"You look quite handsome yourself, my lord." Rebecca preempts you. "I suppose, if we're all here then, we might as well assemble the rest."
'The rest' as it turns out is Carta, which isn't really that hard to find - not with the heavily caked-up makeup and the absolutely garish kimono that would make havens weep. You have tried (gently of course) multiple times to get Carta to correct her style in the past, but by this point you were resigned to the inevitable.
"Hello Carta." You greet her warmly. "Unique as always."
She perks up, of course. "I know, right! The servants raised such a fuss, but what do they know?" She looks up and down over you. "You know, I have a few spares I don't need. I'm sure you'd look fantastic in them..."
Crimes against fashion aside, you are glad for small talk. The two of you have been growing distant as of late, and while you feel that the rift wasn't completely smoothed over, you're netherless happy that she still treats you like a friend. The four of you move from the reception towards the main hall, drawing both jealous and deferential stares on the way.
***
Despite all the glitz and the crystal and the ostentatious wealth, the function itself isn't really all that much. There are a handful of last-minute announcements, a few brief speeches before the headmaster comes on and jokingly shoos himself out. The atmosphere relaxes, the last clam before many of these men and women will have to share the hard ceiling of the real world. But that is a story for another time, another place. For now, you enjoy the evening, smiling at some really awkward flirting from Gaelio, and the remarks he gets from overprotective Carta.
However, somewhere along the line, Rebecca slips away from you group, slithering her way through the crowd with the grace of viper that is etched on her House's regalia. Intrigued, you subtly excuse yourself, making your way through the crowd to find her.
You eventually find her way outside the party, on an upper floor on a balcony that expands into terrace that overlooks a particularly scenic view of the sea beyond Vingolf. To your considerable surprise, she threads barefoot on the railing, her shoes discarded in the corner and hands extended like a dancer. Despite her apparent grace and agility, it doesn't take a genius to figure out that one slip, even a wobble, and the young heiress would tumble into certain death.
And yet, she makes nothing of it. In the normally dull eyes of violet purple, you see embers of happiness and excitement as she literally twirls the line between life and death, her dress fluttering like scales of a dragon.
She balances and wobbles, and for a moment you're convinced that she's about to tumble and splatter beneath the waves. But instead, the girl gracefully hops onto the terrace, smiling.
"Marika. I knew you'd find me. Eventually."
Your face is neutral, but your eyes can't quite hide the surprise. "That was rather impressive. And reckless."
She smiles. "As you've said, a girl has to live dangerously sometimes." She spins around, black hair and scales trailing after her. "You don't trust me, do you, Marika?"
"I don't know you." You correct her.
"Hmmm." She hums and stops, before strutting over to you. She mockingly bows to you, extending her hand in invitation to a dance. "How about it? If you play, you can have one question from me. On anything."
You politely raise a brow in silent challenge. "And will I believe you?"
There are still sparkles of amusement in her eyes. "Believe in what you will,
Monday".
The intonation of the word, however innocent, freezes your blood.
She knows.
You look towards the ocean.
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