There were so many wonderful performances after him - though none were Rift. He cheered and whooped after them all, until finally it was time to judge.

First place - the massive dragon, and then Fisher, the... weasel? and then... 'Sebastian, your performance showed both skill and power. I think it awed all of us, and it is a magic not just anyone can control.' and the puma was certain he was gawping, before grinning in an absolutely gleeful, probably dopey, stupid way, but he couldn't help it, bowing his head and managing "Thank you," before getting to his paws and trotting out, tail high.

-exit a very happy kitty

Pride followed shortly - and cleanly - after him, no polite word spared; the melanistic puma gaped through his victory, and the demon... sizzled for the briefest of moments and took to the air. Aure imagined a swampy scent filling his nose as immense wings beat at the air, sweeping away. His feathers ruffled, but there was no follow-up to validate that internal sense of wrong, wrong, wrong. Class was dismissed with no hangups.

The young King stayed at the platform where Pride didn't, claws scraping against the stone and curling in like they could provide some poor sense of grounding. In case anyone wants to talk, he distracted himself gently with scanning the departing faces and listening in on idle chatter. Bright eyes glistened with his smiles and nods, here and there. Every Gembound moving out of sight was one less external thing to focus on, and none but one made an approach -

An infamous face charging up got an instinctive tensing up out of him (wouldn't anyone flinch at such a sudden thing?) and he nearly spun on his heel with magic shakily primed. Feathers ruffled up high, and the young King was halfway to putting himself between Kalama and Damask by the time she'd started ranting and raging. By the end, all Aure had to offer to the chicken was a brief, halfheartedly polite, "alright, then." He didn't like how taut his voice sounded.

He swallowed, tucking that away, and glanced over to Damask with a somewhat weak smile. His ears pricked forward, but he knew damn well his expression wasn't reaching his eyes. But, he'd already assured her that he'd be fine - just dandy, even. "It's pretty noisy," Aure chirped with a soft, not-at-all genuine laugh, "I'll be over there, if you want to come with." He paced away from the competition in long, quick strides, but not the sort to imply don't follow me.

Damask's proclivity for shouldering Atlas's weight was never something he wanted to encourage, but he didn't mind her trailing and quiet company.

Along the way, he struck flintstones against one another. Shaky sparks here and there, but no flick-of-the-wrist manifestation of flame. Breaths rattled in and out of his chest, but Aure closed his beak with a soft click! at the distant reminder of his daughter in his periphery. Steady does it, like the broad span of his wings over Cetus or the squall of wind from fire and ash and smoke. Panic would get him nowhere - he was safe and he was here.

Phosphorescence bloomed, weak but infinitely assuring in its determination to chase away shadows. A shaky breath escaped him, and he directed the wisp around with each tremor of his eyes. Several loop-de-loops and sweeping arcs later, the young King inhaled deeply and glanced at Damask: "ready to head out?"

yeah, that look of his said. you did okay. an inkling of a smile plucked at damask's features, even as her pulse wobbled and skipped between her ribs — the voices around her fading into a palpitating ache of anxiety. auré was reflecting her approach, she realized: a step up to the audience; the shape of fisher's name on his mouth, calling him closer; a deep, congratulating bow. thoughtful of him. pride spoke last, announcing the tie, no doubt wrapping it up with a word for the group. was that a simmer she saw in azrael's face? wait, don't worry, he's leaving, he's leaving. as were the others, one by one. she gave the white stag a vigorous nod of agreement as he addressed his compatriots. in moments' time, he was gone, mercurius all but brushing along his side. the accipiter threw another glance at auré, narrow through a knowing smirk. a little something to lighten the mood. "something there, you think? i can see it." ... no, aagh, not funny, not the time, not the place. she bit her lip, shifted back into neutral as they presided over the last of the crowd. her gaze lingered on the dragon's silhouette, growing smaller in flight. first place, and yet svartis had been so humble — ! oh, he really deserved that win. maybe she'd ... catch him, sometime, sidle her way into a conversation ... what? or she would just — study up on that invisibility spell herself.

naturally, kalama had to burst in for an attention-seeking reprisal. this time, the bird of prey didn't flinch. somehow, though, she was still ... having a hard time ... hearing. when her father edged in front of her, damask intercepted the move, squinting sharply at him: not necessary. then, at kalama: man, are you done yet? this tirade was shaping up to be shorter than the first, at least. she lifted her muzzle and flung it away, an unmistakable gesture to give it a rest already —

... and, in so doing, caught sight of alpha, shambling into silent retreat. she shrank back, tracking them through the very corners of her vision. they hadn't said a word, they'd scarcely even moved, and now they were just up and leaving? why had they been here? did it have anything to do with their busted-up face? they had recognized her, she knew it. if only she could just talk to them ...

damask's eyes flew back to her father, seconds out of synch as he broke through the sound of blood in her ears. "it's pretty noisy up here." no, it isn't. kalama left. furthermore: smile, fake. laugh, also fake. he sounds tense. in conclusion: he is, once again, not doing so hot. "i'll be over there, if you want to come with." if? "of course." she shadowed every step, faithful, attentive ... but she couldn't quite help it. that niggling dread in the back of her head, the premature regret for something she still could've done but knew that she wouldn't. she glanced over her shoulder, hoping against hope that the colossus would, too — not just once — not just twice. between auré and alpha, there almost wasn't space to worry about the competition itself, the stress of judging it, of standing up there with the two finest — ... yeah, almost was right.

a wisp blossomed into existence and danced around at auré's command. self-soothing spell. damask shook her head, trying her damnedest to put those scars, those haggard quills, those scars(!) out of her thoughts. "ready to go?" "lead the way," she replied. a little lower here, more conspiratorial: "you make a great judge, you know. excellent encouragement for the kids, very important note about sebastian. you should be proud. maybe, if you're feeling inspired, we could practice together once we get home?" she smiled tightly. it wasn't altogether lost on her — the irony of it, the reversal of roles. not a word of praise from him, nothing but a smile and a nod, not a single indication that she had gone even an inch above and beyond. but he needed it; she didn't. damask would be absolutely fine. damask with the tiny voice. damask with the delicate looks. damask with no repute or significance. nausea swum in the pit of her stomach, dragging her into crash and comedown.

knock, knock! it's me, reality! i'm ba-♪-ack! so, kid ... did you miss me?

exit with auré