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Despite Khaemtir’s timely interruption, Radaam could practically [i]feel[/i] the unamusement rolling off Khotanebre, once more regretting his decision to strike up any conversation beyond ‘hey, sorry my sister was bugging you, see you around the Dijat’. Ugh. This was what he got for following his mother’s advice. Things didn’t work in the Heka the same as they did on the outskirts of Photep, woman! 

And of course, Khotanebre attended Pesedjet as well. Had [i]all[/i] of the other Novitiates attended? Oh, who was he kidding, of course they had. His plan for his entire future had hinged on the low, low chance he had of being selected to the Cults after graduating Udebtekhat; it was all but [i]guaranteed[/i] the other Novitiates were all Pesedjet alumni. 

Luckily his input wasn’t needed, as Khaemtir took hold of the conversation and ran far, far away with it. The prospect of some sort of high society evening of hobnobbing to introduce their families, while it would probably delight his mother, wasn’t the most comforting one, but at least then he’d have the chance to give his family a crash course on how [i]not[/i] to behave; he was no expert on aristocratic politesse, but he was pretty sure he’d discovered every “do not” in the book by stumbling into them this very afternoon. 

[color=6AB1D3]“Daama!”[/color]

Oh, but the universe held ever more surprises. 

He had opened his mouth to offer some word of confirmation to Khaemtir when he felt a small girl collide with the backs of his legs, the smiling - and somehow mischievous, why was she making that face, what did she do - face of his sister staring up at him. Radaam wasn’t sure what she’d done to look so smug, but the only confirmation he needed that it was something she probably shouldn’t have was Toruk sheepishly crawling off her and around Radaam’s arm, avoiding eye contact in a classic show of guilt. Honestly, weren’t snakes supposed to be crafty? Toruk couldn’t lie to save his skin. And considering what Radaam was about to find out, his skin was very much in jeopardy. 

Before he could even get out a word of inquiry, Radaam felt a heavy, sweltering heat on his shoulder. The heat was followed by the weight of a hand on his shoulder and a booming voice that made Radaam’s blood run cold. 

[color=fdc68a]“Sorcerer-Novitiate Esi, I have just had a most entertaining conversation with your dear sister. She is wise beyond her years, I would heed her closely if I were you.”[/color] 

Catching the look of utter horror on her brother’s face, Zahra offered Pavo a wave before bouncing off into the crowd in the direction of her parents, wisely getting out of dodge as Radaam stood pin-straight and turned to face the voice’s owner, bone-deep embarrassment etched into his otherwise stoic expression like a statue carved with a wavering hand. 

[color=fdc68a]“That aside, allow me to extend my personal congratulations to you on your commencement. We will expect much of all of you very soon.”[/color]

The figure before him, adorned in outlandish feathers and swathed in the glimmer of heat, might as well have been more god than man for how reverently Radaam considered him. A lifetime of watching the Khenetai in awe had taught him that the red trim adorning the man’s cloak was a telltale sign of an official in the Crimson King’s employ, and the ornate brooch pinned to his shoulder announced his affiliation with the Cult of the Phoenix proudly. The Magister of the Cult of the Phoenix himself. And Zahra had somehow struck up a conversation with him. 

[color=437D99]“...Thank you, Magister. I’ll be honoured to try to meet those expectations.”[/color] His reply came slowly, quietly, and looking like he'd seen a ghost, but at the very least, less detached than his stumbling with Kho; a stress response no doubt, one triggered in such a situation where missteps were not an option. Mercifully, the Magister went on to address Kho directly, and only when his eyes were off him could Radaam breathe again. The most he could otherwise muster was a positively deadly look at Toruk for letting Zahra get herself into trouble. There wasn’t even any need for a telepathic reprimand; judging by how the viper shrank away, the poison in Radaam’s look alone was potent enough to get his point across. 
[right][sub][@Dead Cruiser][@Achronum][@Scribe of Thoth][/sub][/right]