[ What surprises Elan Ceres most in the ceremony of it all is the trinkets -- hat, gown, flowers, all manner of digital documentation and mobile suit paraphernalia, photographs with Four's instructors and Elan's own family, gifts from "friends;" advertisements advertisements advertisements so many prospective employers' advertisements in the form of increasingly useless, ugly swag, all of which Elan abandons in the Peil House dormitory's shared bathrooms; messages and signatures from everybody, scrawled into a copy of Machiavelli's The Prince (now The Ice Prince, per Chuchu's vandalism); an honorary sword for the school's top three duelists -- Suletta's in gold, Elan's in silver, and Guel's in bronze -- begrudgingly presented to them by Miorine; and, of course, the diploma, printed special for an occasion that spares no expense.
It's the most fun Elan's had in his life and everybody notices, concludes he must have detested school and couldn't feel greater relief to be leaving. Even Shaddiq says, most people look more handsome when they smile; you, by contrast, look somewhere between constipated and deranged. Brave words from a man without a sword.
That was half a day ago. Now, Elan's back at Peil headquarters in the black suit, tense despite whatever the practiced ease in his posture might tell. In recent months it's become so suffocating to spend the night in his rooms at their base that he commutes to and from it and his parents' home each day, despite the hours between them. While at Peil, he eats and drinks nothing, cleaves to the sides of rooms, always finds some excuse to avoid the researchers' tests and inquiries -- and, if he can't, lies, fucks the results up on purpose. His reputation as a disrespectful little troll's cover enough, but Belmeria Winston keeps trying to catch him alone for a chat anyway.
Elan stops at Four's door, one of Peil's lackey robots wheeling a large crate just behind him. Inside: All thirty of those philosophy books in three tidy piles, some clothes, piloting gear, all the trimmings from graduation, and a small, green tomato plant courtesy of Suletta Mercury's experiments in genetic engineering. Her private greeting to Elan had shaken him to his core.
This is for... you, she'd said. The other you. Easily: First Shaddiq says I'm hideous and now I'm unrecognizable? What, do you all like me better when I'm miserable? No, after a beat; plain and simple: I just wanted to see my friend today.
Two knocks. ]
Open up. I've got your stuff.
[ Whenever Four lets Elan inside, the robot will deposit the crate in a corner of the small room before shutting the door closed behind it, and Elan will come to stand in front of Four with the diploma outstretched in both his hands. A dip of the knee; a wry smile. ]
Congratulations.
[ The space that had borne Elan Ceres' name is blank. ]
happy bir - graduation
It's the most fun Elan's had in his life and everybody notices, concludes he must have detested school and couldn't feel greater relief to be leaving. Even Shaddiq says, most people look more handsome when they smile; you, by contrast, look somewhere between constipated and deranged. Brave words from a man without a sword.
That was half a day ago. Now, Elan's back at Peil headquarters in the black suit, tense despite whatever the practiced ease in his posture might tell. In recent months it's become so suffocating to spend the night in his rooms at their base that he commutes to and from it and his parents' home each day, despite the hours between them. While at Peil, he eats and drinks nothing, cleaves to the sides of rooms, always finds some excuse to avoid the researchers' tests and inquiries -- and, if he can't, lies, fucks the results up on purpose. His reputation as a disrespectful little troll's cover enough, but Belmeria Winston keeps trying to catch him alone for a chat anyway.
Elan stops at Four's door, one of Peil's lackey robots wheeling a large crate just behind him. Inside: All thirty of those philosophy books in three tidy piles, some clothes, piloting gear, all the trimmings from graduation, and a small, green tomato plant courtesy of Suletta Mercury's experiments in genetic engineering. Her private greeting to Elan had shaken him to his core.Two knocks. ]
Open up. I've got your stuff.
[ Whenever Four lets Elan inside, the robot will deposit the crate in a corner of the small room before shutting the door closed behind it, and Elan will come to stand in front of Four with the diploma outstretched in both his hands. A dip of the knee; a wry smile. ]
Congratulations.
[ The space that had borne Elan Ceres' name is blank. ]