@Lemonface @Avi @Ozzie
i'll let you guys work out the post order on this one!

pretend i'm not here, damask had said — and oh, the irony! even when you're asking them not to listen, to ignore you ... that's what they do. (prime leadership material, right there.) but if the spotlight stuck, it wouldn't be for lack of trying to shake it off. ozzie shot her a look, and, well, all things considered, he didn't look as panicky as he could've — so she took a seat backstage and made a perfect little audience out of herself, very still, eyes and ears trained on the star.

naturally, the poor kid had to repeat a great deal of what he'd already told them, but ... nevertheless, it was all just as solid the second time around. the bird of prey nodded along, all patience and approval — even as he halted and stammered his way through his advice, then gave it once again to the floor. man, would you get a load of those nerves. how're we doing on the secondhand embarrassment front, there, damask? not good, stomach churning, heat simmering quietly under her cheeks. didn't show, though. when does it ever.

at long last, the finish line, and — hey, what gives? who's the winner? first he doesn't answer two out of three of your preliminary questions, and now he misses half the whole point of the exercise? so is he avoiding the dilemma or is he just — no, leaving that part out was perfectly understandable under the circumstances, and she was not going to tell him otherwise. again his attention darted towards her, and she mustered up a tight little smile for him, mouthing encouragement once again: well done.

... which brought it around to the other two, and as damask's gaze shifted their way, her posture stiffened at once, smile falling away. as if there were a whole lot holding it up to begin with.

well, to their credit — somewhere over the course of four stutters, two ums, three uhs, and eight (count 'em, eight!) ellipses' worth of poorly-concealed distress, lemon and avi had put one and two together and figured out that dear, sweet ozzie was just a little bit upset on their account. now, here they were, trying their level best to remedy that — lemon, especially. for a second there, he almost looked worse than his friend did, despite all his swagger. kid's not as tough as he wants to be, and when he said he wasn't about to go next, he wasn't just joking; the fight had left him in awfully rough shape, small, ragged, wings slack on the floor. damask's features softened, slightly. silver eyes flitted off to the side, a furrow of reconsideration etched in between them.

ozzie had put obvious effort into ending on a light note, and apologies aside, the others threw themselves into playing along. "knucklehead" this, "feathered butt" that — "we can if you want, but we already know who's won." then, easy as anything, ozzie was better again, smiling and chirruping, throwaway tears coming away on his wing.

and all it took was a little joking around. what a concept! now, there's a trick you could never pull off. sure, maybe you can swing the whole cool act for a minute, but fun? —

"i don't think i'd be very good at fighting, heh!," he was saying, and he lifted his eye to rest on her face, bright and expectant. "but — if damask says it's my turn?"

blink and focus, mental math flying through her head. what's it gonna be, hm? well, it didn't take a whole lot of agonizing to know what it wasn't. "no."

every trace of a plan had long since flown away in the breeze; nothing to do about it but ride the wind, too. damask rose to her feet and stepped up beside ozzie — and for once, she didn't stand up straight. holding herself the way she was meant to, almost in line with the ground, well — all of a sudden, she was shorter than he was, looking more like the assistant than the teacher. wrong as it felt, this was very purposeful. "my inclination is to agree with avi, actually," the accipiter said, addressing ozzie but gesturing briefly to cite as she spoke. here, a not-so-subtle hint of self-deprecation — meant in wry humor, but ... maybe not altogether artificial: "for what my take is worth." she turned to the others. "ozzie's advice on focus, variation, creativity — it's all on point. i mean, if i had to pick a winner ..."

she finished the sentence with a sidelong flick of her muzzle.

something genuine teased at the corner of her lip, just the one, just for ozzie. very softly, below the others' hearing: "hold on a second, okay?" then, it was gone.

how's about we start with the hard one. right, so avi, then. she cut down the distance by a couple of feet — decidedly addressing them, not the group, slightly quieter, closer to her natural voice. it was a little conservative, a little withheld, praise and critique in careful equilibrium.

"you look good, you know." she scanned avi up and down — not because she had to at this point, but rather by way of accentuation. they were sort of dusted up, sure, and probably sore, but next to lemon? fresh as a daisy. "and that's partly because you stayed on the offensive without forgetting your defenses." but mostly because you put them up against an opponent who is one tenth their weight. did you think about that? "more to it than just tackles and pins, though. your father" — (not yours, remember!) — "is the best tooth-and-claw fighter in canis, and you've got almost all the same equipment. he could teach you more in one lesson than i ever could." whoa, there! let's not pour it on with the ego, kid! "you should ask him to work with you, if you haven't already."

then: "you." on lemon, now, and the shift was downright palpable as she spun around and strode his way — light on her feet, just in case he tried something funny again. "i like the enthusiasm. i like the tricks, transparency aside. i don't like ..." one of her wings flipped out with a flourish to gesture in lemon's general direction, then folded promptly back into place. "that." eloquent! "give those wings a vacation for a day or three. got it, hotshot? no stunts until they're back in working order; otherwise, they might not get there at all. and look into other spells, yeah? the one you've been using makes your weight a disadvantage. that said: your magic, it's promising. that second cast was" — (here, she cleared her throat, speaking halfway under the sound) — "pretty sick."

... wh — huh? kid — what? sure, the results were ridiculous, but it sort of had been. and he needed the compliment, besides.

"nice work, both of you." damask exhaled and stepped back, rejoining ozzie. "i'll bring you dinner later, all right? anything you want. thanks for coming."

read: you and you, say goodbye and go home. and a sidelong glance, accompanied by a very, very slight shake of her head: not you.

Upon Damask's approach, Lemon puffed his chest out, drawing his ratty wings in against himself, expecting some compliments like what Avi received. What he got was, well... compliments. And insults? He really wasn't sure-

"You just pointed to all of me," he said, and then looked at himself, grimacing.

No, Damask was right, he looked and felt like shit. He ended up just shrugging and then gawking as he was put on bed rest.

"What?!", he squawked, "You're grounding me?! Aw man- Avi you're babying me for kicking my ass so hard! You could'a pulled your punches a little, I mean jeez! You hit like a ton of rocks!"

Lemon pointed an accusing finger- feather- whatever- at the bone-kid, eyes narrowing, "I expect five star treatment!"

It took a minute to register everything else Damask said, and then another few seconds to process a suitable reaction. Ahem.

"SHE SAID MY MOVES WERE SICK!!", she shrieked, dancing around in an excited circle, wings flapping around, "AW HELL YEAH! Got some respeck up in dis business!"

He almost swooned when she offered dinner, bringing a wing up to his forehead, "Aw man- dinner! This has gotta be my lucky day! Man I gotta go clean up my nest- OH GARBAGE BALLS MY NEST! Dammy save my room for last- please!!"

Lemon smacked Avi's shoulder with a wing to get their attention, "C'mon! You gotta help me clean up- I wanna make a good impression y'know! Gotta let Dammy know I'm sort of maybe not really a responsible vulture!"

If Avi left, he did too, running like an idiot along the ground as he tried to get to his messy nest as soon as possible.

Exit Lemon!
@Avi

Avi's humorous look towards Ozzie shifted into his best impression of seriousness as Damask strolled over, his wings tucked neatly to his sides. The hybrid beamed at the praise, and the mention of his father. "I sure will!" he affirmed.

Then there was Lemonface: Avi couldn't help but snicker at the vulture's indignant squawks. "You're getting grounded!" He chucked. "An' it's not like I can control how cool and strong I am! You're as light as a feather!"

The gryphon's eyes became saucers at the promise of dinner. "Sweet!" he hooted. "I want slate, please! Or maybe sandstone!" Lemon's smack was met by a laugh (and a wince at the realization of how sore he was). "Sure thing, dude! Caves, I gotta clean up my own den, too..." Avi's wings lifted up and into the air, his tongue sticking out in lighthearted teasing towards the gembound: "Race you there! Heh heh, grounded..."

@Ozzie
Exit Avi!

Ozzie sat back and watched, eyes flickering between everyone else. he laughed, a little, offering a smile towards his siblings. a curious glance up at damask and a nod, and he was back to waiting for people to leave.

it was obvious he was still coming down from it, blinking rapidly every time lemon made a particularly loud noise, but he waved after them, squeaking a "goodbye!" before turning to damask again.

he honestly didn't know what to say first. he had questions, obviously, but every time he opened his beak for words, they wouldn't come out. he was trying his best to collect them though. "u-uhm-" he stammered, muttering beginnings of sentences. he looked up at her in apology.

"uhm- is- i think- oh, um..." he started. "...did i do okay..?" he asked. that wasn't the only thing he wanted to ask of course, but it was a start. he looked terribly small, for a moment.

@Damask