There is arriving early. There is arriving fashionably early. There is arriving early enough to make it embarrassing because you clearly got the time wrong. 

And then there is whatever the fuck Mirror is doing. 

She has shown up hours ahead of the gala. Hours and hours, in fact. So incorrect that it is preposterous, so eager that there are still workers arranging the final decorations when she invokes her pilot's privilege of entry at the time of her choosing. They ask her to leave because she's making it harder to finish. They ask her to leave because they think she'd prefer the dance floor when it's finished, wouldn't she? They ask her to leave because they are, frankly, embarrassed to do their jobs while a VIP watches them with laser eyes. 

She refuses. She stays. Matty, the only member of her entourage at the moment, is burning brighter and hotter with every exchange. Soon she will melt a hole in the floor, or possibly make herself into a suitable replacement for a Crystal Fire Drive when it comes to energy output. Her poor tail is thrashing about and her ears keep pressing into her skull so that Mirror has to spend another five minutes coaxing them back up with gentle, soothing pets. 

This is all according to plan. This is... [i]mostly[/i] according to plan. Ideally Matty would be less flustered, just very slightly less of a frightened kitten clinging to her mother for support. Or if she was going to be that, to have it be more intentioned and playful. But she is being brave, just like she promised to be. That earns her a kiss on the head, such a good girl. In any event, all according to plan. 

Slate is with Kiriala. Both will be entering with the contingent from Hybrasil proper. Both have been asked to dress themselves, but both have been asked to stick together even if they clash horribly. Which of course they will: Slate owns exactly one dress and she's worn it to every formal occasion she's ever been forced to attend for the last ten years. Her teal and coral diving suit with the silk fringes at the hips and shoulders, and the belt of plain weights she always wears with it are a gorgeous compliment to her fur and her frame. A lovely example of Fisher chic, if exceptionally outdated. But her chances of pulling it off alongside whatever her new Squire thinks is appropriate wear for the day? Not worth considering, out of courtesy. 

That is fine. It's good if they stand out next to each other, actually. Kiriala gets to feel like she is showing support for the Motherland she still believes in, and Mirror gets to show her that she trusts she still belongs too, by sending her oldest and most trusted friend to walk beside her. The Knight does not demand split loyalties be shattered. Who you are is who you are, and that should be celebrated. 

Nervous staff offer her a courtesy drink. Matty takes one just to make somebody somewhere feel slightly better about themselves. Mirror refuses. Her shimmering liquid eyes are locked on the entrance, where the first people will (eventually) come trickling in, and then more and more intentionally and importantly so. She will not miss a single head that shows up, from the least powerful to the most. Her ribbons flutter majestically in the slight current the ammonite-shaped room naturally generates. The lilies on her head waver, but hold firm. 

She has arrived. The first. The strongest. Able to survive any implication and any supposed embarrassment. She is there to challenge every single pair of eyes that enter this latest arena and dare them to stare back at her. She is there to witness every smile, every gasp, and every whisper that Mayze's (that [i]her[/i]) dresses generate. She is there to note who flinches, who blushes, who leers, and who ignores her. She is there to wait for Solarel, who cannot be trusted to stick to a schedule if the lives of a planet depended on it. She is the knight that guards the bridge, and none shall pass without her approval, the most important among them least of all. 

But above all else she is here with Matty even though she would surely cut a more imposing figure standing by herself. That is not the point of it. She has come with her family. She is here, before the before the before, to prove that she has something no one else does. She has let the bonds of fate grown tangled and distant. And hours from now, she will finally uncross her arms and shift her weight for the first time since she posed here to begin with. 

When she does, she will be surrounded by soulmates. The true center of the universe, whatever complex math was spent on this place to bring it into alignment with the three great empires.