here is control, and here's what it looks like: a monochrome ghost, lost in the crowd. seated, upright, tail-over-toes. silver eyes, sharp and unblinking; tufted ears, high and unmoving. face a study in steel and in stone.

she was being really good, see? typical damask, quietly attentive, exactly as you'd expect her to look — (stop,) be. the past few weeks had seen her on her best behavior. since his awakening, her father had needed extra support; hers was one of two shoulders to lean on, and part of the load was keeping him on task. that meant the meeting, first and foremost. it was long overdue, he'd been putting it off, and it needed to happen. brass-tacks facts. it'd be quick, easy, more about housekeeping than anything else; she had no good reason — (stop,) no reason (period) to dread it. besides, auré had given her a few days' notice, and ... not that she'd needed it, of course, but if she had, that should've — (stop,) would've helped. all she had to do was sit, watch, and listen. nothing at all to worry about.

(so how come you're this close to losing it, hm? kid?)

once again, nothing to worry about. (yeah, keep telling yourself that.) damask had arrived on the dot — slipped into the audience, tucked herself away — a peripheral smudge of black and white. she trained her sights on auré, and there they remained, even as a total of nine other spectators filed in. (he's out of focus. made the cast, but the spell backfired. gotta check in with him about that after.) enter speech, mostly recaps, no surprises. (note those cutoffs about the war ... selling himself short about his magic, his trial ... oh?, that's me, that's my name — ... but he could've omitted it, just as easy. omitted me. that's fine.) which led him to what really mattered:

"you all know yourselves best, so ... any ideas?"        "any ideas?"        "any ideas?"

ouch. (there. that's all it is.) ... deep breath ... (not like you didn't see it coming, so don't you dare break.) she didn't break. (you had an idea. now, you don't. you'll be anything your daddy wants you to be, get it?, and you're gonna like it. oh, you're gonna love it. you sorry piece of shit.)

a number of voices spoke up in succession. giggle with her bones and her logic; kerberos with his undying optimism; even the newcomer, nemo ... all three had smart, solid contributions. a little obvious, though, to her. nothing strong enough to keep her head in present tense. (don't) rewind three months, three weeks, three minutes. (don't) recall one word, a song alive in auré's mouth then and his mother's today — never, never in damask's. (don't) replay it over and over, (seriously, don't) play it back and back and back — (but it isn't YOURS, damask. don't PLAY with it, don't TOUCH it, don't even THINK about it.) all right. she wouldn't. ████, ████, ████. everything she wanted. everything she couldn't have. now, fast forward: the big tourists didn't even know the meaning of the word.

sora. morganite. those were their names. she'd seen them around, along with their siblings — all survivors, a bloodbath in hydra. these kindred spirits had really gone through it. exhaustion and tension rolled off them in waves. even here, damask could sense it, along with that instinct to figure it out and fix it; she felt for them ... but they were tight-knit, standoffish, with no plans of staying. sure, no problem. their being here was also not necessarily a problem. the bonebound took pride in their hospitality, and the other refugees in attendance — charles, pumpkin — were absolutely fine. what wasn't fine was a couple of tourists rolling up to their meet and starting a debate. as if auré hadn't seen what the masters could do — hadn't fought for the best deal they could get — hadn't made sacrifices for the sake of his family. as if these nobodies weren't talking to a ████.

damask inhaled and set her jaw. a little bit of air — that was all it took — and the jasper dagger threw a spark, biting at her lungs. it hurt — (and it shouldn't've; oh, man, was her chest really that tight? how long had it been like this?) (it's fine) ... but it worked, as strong a response as she could've hoped for. no need to turn, check she had the right spot; they'd made enough noise to give it away. the space between them, that was the ticket. hit 'em both at once. a moment's focus, and she crunched the air into an invisible fist: nothing that would hurt them or mess with their breathing, but it'd make it very difficult for them to move — their mouths, especially. a muzzle. no interruptions, no more disrespect. (tourists.)

her plan: silence them until auré was finished; ease up the spell a little, give them a chance; and, at the first sign that they wouldn't play nice, shut them back up. completely anonymous, as if the universe itself had intervened. somehow, it gave her the slightest reprieve — a target that wasn't between her own eyes. close on her father, just about to speak. she stayed with him. she'd been with him all along.