"Hi, um. I'm Umbra," said the boy who bore a striking resemblance to Iolani Tori, waving with a closed-eye smile that seemed carelessly chirpy. "Nice to meet you all."

He was about to elaborate—perhaps say a few words about his Avian or his class and hopefully provide an explanation for Jeremiah's abrupt decision—when Lucienne cut in with yet another way of identifying the prey.

"Aren't you the one Kirill picked on? For the news of a predator's death? Right here, just last week. Over dinner," the harpy eagle stared, eyes searching the boy's. She revealed no emotion save the hint of confusion on the tip of her tongue.

Dmitri on the other hand, was letting his run free. The bars of his cage broken and bent, the creature within was free to roam, far too distracted by Jeremiah's knighted choice (not just a prey but someone he'd met so recently! And only once!) to notice what Lucienne had observed. Now that she had brought it up, the rest of the table had narrowed in like predators on a hunt, close in their watch of the pigeon that they began to find oddly familiar.

"Yeah. I am," he admitted, turning to Lucienne with a sheepish smile, hand on his head. "You remember me? I thought no one would have, given how plain my... well, my everything is. Professor Kirill was very upset with me that day. I almost got myself expelled."

Io could relate. Though, strictly speaking, the paths they each took towards expulsion differed vastly, there was a certain similarity in the end which the sparrow found himself familiar with.

"You were that pigeon?" At Lucienne's discovery however, people were starting to let up. Shri was one of the few who took this all very lightly, turning to Jeremiah and punching his upper arm in a playful manner. "Look who's leading the charge against Kirill. The dude's gonna be pissed."

"Well, no one said anything about having prey as knighted partners, so." Jeremiah shrugged with a laugh, turning to Dmitri who, for once, was not all warm and welcoming; hugs and smiles.

"Yeah, but why him?" You guys just... barely met! The falcon reasoned through an established Link, allowing the rest of the table to hear his thoughts save the daytime sparrow and pigeon. So unless you're telling me you somehow knew this guy before the whole fiasco the other day, then this is, no offence, it's—bullshit. I'm not buying this.

The majority of the table seemed taken aback by Dmitri's outburst of emotions. Among those who remained unsurprised were Vaughn Alekseyev and Iolani Tori, even after Luka had quietly translated the falcon's flurry of incoherent thoughts into the sparrow's ear.

"It's true that we only met last night but," Jeremiah left mouths agape by draping his arm over Umbra's shoulder, leaning his weight in the most inappropriately intimate manner. "It felt like we've known each other for the longest time."

"Fuck you," snorted Abigail, shaking her head. "Some sugar-coated shit right there honey, coming right out of your mouth. I didn't know you were capable of cheesy things like that, Jeremiah."

The kite took this all in his stride, sitting Umbra down and ruffling the former's hair as he did. "He makes me do things."

"Right," was all Meryl had to say upon defrosting, face stiff with an odd smile plastered over her lips. It didn't look very natural.

Gazes were exchanged and words were swallowed, leaving the air empty except for the clinking of utensils and the buzz of faraway talk; hollow. The moment made for a brief meeting of their gazes—Io and Umbra's—and seemed to grip and seize that which lived within, past the windows and into the inside. The sound of a bench scraping across the floor as Dmitri rose broke the odd, momentary contact between the two, directing their eyes towards the falcon.

"Dmitri?"

He didn't respond, taking his juice box with him as he left the table and crossed to the other side of the hall where the double doors were. Halfway, he paused, as though having an afterthought, then returned to the table before grabbing Vaughn by the scruff of his neck and then continuing towards the exit, dragging an indignant vulture along the way amidst protests of his personal importance, appalled by his role as a mere afterthought.

Vaughn, an afterthought! Absolutely unthinkable.

Everyone at the table watched them go, stunned at the escalation of matters and the sudden amicable relationship between vulture and falcon. Even several tables of prey from the other side of the hall had turned with curious eyes, craning their necks to watch the once reigning victor of the season games being dragged away by Dmitri Ford.

It took the table several moments to return to the matter at hand and while Io had been the first to do so, his gaze had unconsciously rested upon Umbra—who he noticed was staring at Luka.

________________________

You said there aren't any golden eagles left, thought the boy under the trees, basking in the shade of canopies and staring up at the sky cracked into bits and splinters. You're a liar, Vater. I found one today.

He looked again and it wasn't leaves or the bark of the tree he was speaking to; nor was it the pieces of sky or the blades of grass underneath where he laid. It was a sparrow.

You didn't kill them all, did you?

The sparrow cocked its head to the side, as though part of the act to confuse and taunt the boy with questions. Yet, the spark in its eye said it all—a gleam amidst the darkness, one that shared many eyes and infinite ears.

Why didn't you tell me? Laughed the boy as he ran his fingers along the grass and stopped at a blade to tug it free from the soil, digging deep to its roots till the underside of his nails were caked with dirt. He pulled at it and along with the single blade came an entire foot of something else, each blade connected to another by an underground stem, uprooting crown after crown, tuft after tuft with a single tug. Undone.

The sparrow observed from the lowest branch of a tree, the boy's weeding. If only birds could smile.

_________________________

"What are you doing? Just where—how far do you intend to—the bell's about to ring and I have philosophy class to attend!" A poor vulture protested helplessly against the willpower of Dmitri Ford, who had him previously by the collar and now by the hand.

Yet, the vulture had not once attempted to escape by perhaps tugging his hand out of his captor's slackened grip, merely tailing along and conjuring his most convincing grimace of reluctance as his only show of resistance.

"Philosophy? I can teach that," declared Dmitri with a dismissive wave, pulling Vaughn alongside him and sitting the latter on a random bench under the shade of the clocktower. "For sure, you've got something to say about this. I'm not taking nothing for an answer."

"Dmi—Ford," was the term he'd arrived at, collecting himself with the steepling of his hands. "I regret to inform you that our mini escapade the night before does not, unfortunately, feature an extension and you are therefore not, under any circumstances, allowed to express any sort of... intimacy or... or affection, or friendship related to myself in front of other people."

"Looks like you need a masterclass on friendship instead of philosophy Vaughn," the falcon pointed out, "but I'm just gonna let that slide on the account of our 'mini escapade' last night and, you know, cut to the chase and say that Jerry-o's out of his mind. Any thoughts?"

Vaughn found himself, yet again, no longer appalled by the man's behaviour but on the verge of experiencing a seizure, clearly on the extreme end of the spectrum. He breathed deeply.

"Yes, and no. One, you are not, under any circumstance, allowed to quote me out of context. Two, it appears that not a word said by me has entered your narrow and paltry mind. And three, I... I decline to comment." Dmitri provided him with a consolatory nod at every number, knowing that no argument against the vulture could be easily won.

"Do you honestly have nothing to say?" He had shoved his face right before Vaughn's, triggering a frightened response from the latter. "Weren't you the one so obsessed over keeping the Pyramid in check? That pigeon would be hiking up the ranks just because Jerry wants to—to take advantage of the fact that everyone's seen him get pushed around by Kirill by adopting the little thing and just... overall making himself look all nice and shit."

Vaughn had placed a firm hand on Dmitri's shoulder to keep the boy at arm's length. "You seem to have a biased opinion."

"Why?"

The vulture clicked his tongue in annoyance, as though Dmitri had posed a nonsensical question that required no answer but then again, he should have been used to it by this point. Not forgetting the fact that falcon and kite interactions were generally intimate, teasing, or light-hearted, which perhaps accounted for his clouded perception of the two. Apparently, they weren't getting along so well underneath all that.

Or were they? Vaughn caught himself thinking that Io would know best, since Dmitri and Jeremiah did fall out at some point along the way and it did take a sparrow to mend their ways.

"Why would you assume Reyes' intentions? There's no telling what the reasons for his actions are, Dmitri."

This, the falcon had not expected to hear. His Avian had jumped back in surprise, as though scalded by the words from a human he thought would never voice them.

"And that's coming from you? Who, like, probably tried to predict everyone's ulterior motives and read 'How to be cunning for dummies' every day?"

"Well I've learned otherwise," said Vaughn flatly. "And mind you, I'm not saying I did not for a second consider whatever opinion it is you have about Reyes, in fact I have, and it was the very first thing that came to my mind the instant this... Umbra, thing. Came by."

Dmitri was excited.

"So we're on the same page?"

Vaughn was quick to deny him the opportunity. "No."

Rolling eyes and frustrated sighs were due but Dmitri decided to go for yet another angle of attack. "Okay but intentions aside, you can't be alright with the fact that they got to know each other last night, can you?"

The vulture paused to think. "Is that not what happened to us last night, Dmitri?"

"Uh, no?" Dmitri was honestly feeling so attacked right now. "We've known each other for three years!"

"Mm, barely," quipped his companion.

Vaughn had been inclined to think Jeremiah and Dmitri the closer two. Any relationship concerning himself would have to be regarded on the far end of the friendship spectrum that we all know of.

Just as Dmitri was about to launch into yet another existential crisis and a reconstruction of his foundational knowledge, a massive, unworldly heat rivalling that of the sun's barred down the sides of their faces, forcing the pair to turn.

They found themselves expecting to see the ball of fire descending from the sky, hurtling towards them but were instead met with the materialization of a Chinese girl landing on her feet. Dmitri had to squint past the heatwaves rising from the ground, waving only after his distorted worldview returned to its original state.

"Okay, but that was unnecessarily hot," said the falcon, ducking his head and running the back of a sleeve over the sweat on his brow.

Vaughn's eyes were wide. The audacity of the boy!

"I appreciate your unnecessary comment," replied Jing with the same expression she had on her face this morning and the day before, and the day before that. "While you were away, Jeremiah registered Umbra as his partner-to-be. Have you registered yours and Lucienne's?"

"Wait wait wait," Dmitri held up a hand and waved it as though it was a white flag. "They're already registered? This—and I thought shotgun marriages were out of the question. Yeah but no, uh. We haven't got to registering."

The phoenix merely acknowledged his comment with a nod. "Knighting is on the same day as Io's coronation. The day after tomorrow." That was all she had to add.

Poor Dmitri was not honestly not having a good time. Not only did his trust pal Vaughn Alekseyev refuse to entertain his insightful thoughts, Jing was not having any of his opinionated opinions affect the accuracy and truth value of her message-delivering.

"So you flew all the way here in your phoenix form to scorch us in this blazing heat and then casually drop titbits of information?" The boy was on the roll.

Jing did not quite know how to react, blinking and staring at the new species before her eyes. "Really?"

"Titbits... I thought you would have gone for 'nuggets' instead," she pointed out absentmindedly. "Io would have said seeds.

"That aside," she added before Dmitri could interrupt. "I didn't come to... drop titbits. I would like to speak to Vaughn."

The vulture on high demand was confused. He was rarely popular on the market of conversations and barely seen high up on the list of wanted company (or on that very list at all), making him one of the most unimportant, unnoticed creatures around. The kind that would never go extinct all because no one ever knew about their existence in the first place. With regard to company, specifically.

"Fine, fine. You can have his attention," Dmitri sighed, waving dismissively for the third time of the day when everyone else was, really, dismissing him. "I'll find Luci about the registration stuff and maybe get her to listen."

Before Vaughn could protest that he did not require Dmitri's permission whatsoever to allocate his attention as he wished, the falcon shifted and took off northwards, mint-flavoured Oreos from the post on his mind.

Jing turned to the remaining predator at once.

"I heard you were looking for a job over the summer." She had begun on an apt note before stopping herself. The vulture himself was searching his memories for any trace of this information he'd somehow voiced, wondering if it had been a slip of the tongue for he was so sure he hadn't said a word to—

"Overheard," Jing corrected herself shamelessly.

Vaughn muttered a curse under his breath.

"You might be pleased to know that Professor Viktor," it was that brother of his again, "is sending you to keep an eye on certain areas. Where some predators were last seen, or... well, where they died."

Brilliant! To involve oneself in the most thrilling of adventures, diving into the realms of danger without having lived for more than nineteen years of age! Just the kind of career path he had been searching for.

"No," Vaughn had the bridge of his nose between his index and thumb. "No, no. Council members aren't obliged to participate in special operations—at least that much, I am aware, so. There is no reason to send me, specifically. I am not going. I do not agree to this. I politely decline."

He had to phrase it three different ways and repeat himself three different times, just in case the world had all of a sudden taken a turn for the worse and decided that listening was no longer relevant.

"But there is a new lead for the recent case. The one reported by Umbra." Jing had the cards in her hand and it was clear to Vaughn that all she had to do was wait and pull out the right ones at the right time.

"Reux is dead," she went on. "But the numbers grow and the places differ there must be more to this that we cannot explain—something is on its way." She was hitting the nail in his cage on its head and she need not deal the final card for him to know what it was.

After all, Vaughn had seen one of the numbers fall before his very eyes.

"Let me..." He paused, turning away with a sigh. "I'll speak to Viktor about this. Is this really what he had in mind for a summer job?" The vulture glanced over his shoulder and met the amused gaze of his companion.

"What of waitering? Of bartenders? Part-time librarians or curators?"

Jing wanted to laugh. She somehow managed to turn whatever sound that escaped into a cough. "I'm sure he will empathise. After all, the council pays well. It's three digits per hour."

Vaughn was about to launch into a lengthy explanation about the pleasures of a summer job experience that went beyond monetary rewards; social pleasures that he'd always thought were quite out of his reach but the urge to end the conversation proved itself far too strong for him to handle and so he opted for the next best choice.

"It is only fair that you relieve one of my endless problems having added one yourself, Jane," said the vulture after pausing to clear his throat. "I will consider your—or Viktor's—proposal should you do me a favour."

The phoenix blinked. "What is it?"

"Politely ask, if you will, if Sullivan has a partner in mind. For the knighting," he said rather stiffly, words barely making it past his lips that were drawn almost into a line. "It is, after all, in a day and a half."

_________________________

"I have a message from Vaughn," said the phoenix as Luka Sullivan came into view, reluctantly leaving the support of the wall she was leaning against. "He wants you to be his partner."

The pair had arranged to meet after lunchtime that very day, two hours before homeroom—now that the only Nocturne was no longer attending class—the only time freshman Iolani Tori would be occupied with his curriculum-packed timetable, hence freeing up Luka Sullivan's schedule (that consisted only of a single entity or word that can very likely be summed up with a single name) to collect the former's coronation robes. Jing had, naturally, been the one who extended the invitation.

"I have no guarantees," confessed the phoenix, "as to how it's going to turn out. I had Pipa give her input after breakfast. Out of obligation."

In all honesty, Luka had no qualms about Pipa's additional comments regarding Io's coronation robes. After all, he figured she would have suggested better adjustments than he would, personally, only because she and Io might have spoken about such things or something close to the topic of fashion and preference. The point at which Luka drew the line had more to do with Io's time and attention; and which of them had more of both. Since time spent with Luka was not time spent with Pipa and time spent with both Pipa and Luka was attention halved, Luka-time and Pipa-time were mutually exclusive and both best friends were entirely aware of this matter.

It could even be said that they had signed some sort of unseen agreement regarding the above-mentioned policy.

"It's okay." Luka was walking strangely ahead, as though unable to control the anticipation that had somehow translated into bigger strides. Victoria was an extreme representation of this, already perched on the arm of the wall lamp before the tailor's, conveniently puncturing more holes into the lampshade that she'd destroyed only hours earlier. "She would be a good bridesmaid."

Jing did not quite know whether she should be paying attention or brushing aside the fact that Luka had very casually—albeit indirectly—referred to Io as a bride all while completely eliminating Pipa as Io's potential partner in marriage (rival) in a single sentence that consisted of six words. It not only demonstrated the golden eagle's odd confidence in the battle for the moon, but also his undiscovered ability to strike two birds with one stone.

Jing decided to keep her thoughts inside.

"All you have to do is confirm the overall look. The finished piece," said the phoenix as they arrived at the tailor's door. "Do not attempt to anger the tailor. Or pick on certain stylized decisions she made. Or attempt to re-design the entire robe. Only minor comments."

"Why not?"

"Because she stayed up all night doing it," sighed Jing, a hand on the handle of the door. And just when Luka was about to be quietly amused by the phoenix's sudden streak of conscience, she added that the tailor was quite the expert at nagging.

*

Luka's only concern turned out to be the translucence of Io's inner dress, or rather, his anointing gown, which had been a tad too sheer for his general liking. When raised, the tailor had brandished several stylistic theories to her defense, waving them under the eagle's nose and supporting her decisions with a couple of compliments by Miss Tenner herself, who'd come by to collect her predator's winter coat upon request.

"It's not body-hugging, at the very least. I don't see why you should be complaining about it," she added after draping a shawl over the mannequin's shoulders, pinning it in place with a crescent moon brooch. Every other component of Io's robes, too, featured similar motifs. "That Felice girl said so herself! Not enough to reveal everything underneath but at the same time providing a fair glimpse of the boy's skin—entirely characteristic of the moon phoenix."

While both Luka and Jing were able to find her justification reasonably flawed (Io could very well be said to have more than just 'everything' underneath his skin), they could not find it in themselves to argue with the tailor for fear that she would demand an instant solution to fix the 'so-called-issue' they had with her design.

For practical reasons, the thought of Io dressed in a gown so oddly thin made for concerns about his wellbeing, primarily the moon phoenix's ill resistance to the cold. It crossed the eagle's mind as soon as it was dispelled however, when the tailor proceeded to drape a stunning white coat over the layers.

"That's the parliament robe. Io will not be wearing that during the coronation but on other occasions," voiced Jing in her natural habitat of afternoons, undoubtedly after hearing Luka's thoughts that were, for some reason, louder than usual. "So that would be a valid concern."

"What about a surcoat?" She turned to the tailor, closing Victoria's beak that had dropped at the sight of the sheer gown. "Could we have one made?"

"But that would take me another day!" Protests were hurled at the pair amidst towers of fabric. "And what with tons of orders piling up... it'll be endless." The tailor turned down their request with a shake of her head.

Jing thanked her for the time she took to piece together Io's robes before offering, as a last resort, additional credits for the surcoat to be made. Luka had produced his passbook right then and there, flashing the numbers he'd accumulated over the years and never spent except on the purchase of sunflower seeds.

"W-well," the tailor hesitated still. "Even with this, I... I cannot make any promises. I'm afraid it's still a no. And aren't you the phoenix? You must be aware that prey have their credit numbers checked every now and then. I'd never have that many digits in my passbook even if I'd worked for twenty years and saved every single dime!"

"Oh." Jing had not been aware of this and it accounted for her lack of a concrete response. Surprisingly, Luka was the one who kept things moving.

"Are your fabrics for sale, then?" He had asked instead, the second sentence he'd said to the tailor of their current visit. The first being his comment on the translucence of Io's gown.

"Why," Luka had successfully stunned the tailor into rapid blinks. "Yes, but—well, if you can somehow find some other expert to help you with this, then. Fine by me. It's a meter for a price, depending on whichever fabric it is that you choose."

The eagle nodded, deciding internally that he'd come by again, perhaps with Pipa for help. Then, she wouldn't have to wheel herself all the way to the tailor's like she probably did in the morning.

He paused as the very thought simmered in his cage, taking it in and surprising the quiet creature within. Victoria, too, had expressed a mild bewilderment by nearly losing her grip on the arm of her perch. She'd always assumed her Winged's incapacity for thinking about anyone else except Iolani Tori and to be proven wrong called for something even worse than a lifetime ban on Oreos.

They packed the robes into two separate boxes—one for the parliament robe and the other for his anointing gown—before thanking the tailor and leaving the room, closing the door behind them with a click. Jing suggested she care for the boxes since Io would often make unannounced trips to Luka's room, to which the latter agreed.

Then, as he was about to turn and start towards the stairwell where they would part, Luka stayed in place without a word, as though waiting for something he predicted would happen, while Jing herself stood still as a statue, seemingly waiting for the very same thing.

Because neither knew that the other had been waiting for them to speak or for something to happen and continued to assume the aforementioned, an amusing moment ensued that pardoned the author's need to lengthen this sentence in an attempt to distract readers from the absence of happenings which was not unlikely to occur between one made of ice and the other of rock.

Victoria's head alternated between right and left, a sight that would have amused Lyra immensely.

"You... have something...?"

The phoenix pointed out that Vaughn had yet to receive a reply from him, seeming to take her task as messenger rather seriously. It was a characteristic that Victoria had often associated with pigeons, although not daring enough to establish that connection for someone of Jing's status.

"Neither will I speak to someone who makes decisions entirely based on a single entity," said Luka, a trace of laughter in his voice. "That was what he said to me."

The phoenix snorted, an unbecoming sound for one with an Avian supposedly elegant and composed. "And your answer?"

"Is sign language a requirement?"