The sun fell the next evening far too quickly. The day had been relatively quiet: Chiya and Ketvia had spent most of it with him, putting up with his occasional descention into demonic-speech, his rambling, his twitches and growls at nothing. Aloia even dropped by, briefly, in the midst of her preparations for the dinner and ceremony that night. She'd said that both Akija and Sentio had been disappointed that he hadn't come, but the former had said she'd save him a seat at the banquet before the ceremony, and the latter had expressed a tentative desire to come see him, anyway. Thankfully, Aloia hadn't thought that to be a good idea, and though while the very idea that the kit had wanted to mystified Cacopheny, Aloia seemed pleased by the offer, certainly pleased enough to relay it with a smile. Both of them had said they hoped he felt better soon.

The shadows kept meekly quiet, a few of them even apologetic-- it was rather disconcerting-- as if they knew how much trouble they'd been the day before, and wanted to make it up to him. Cacopheny didn't trust it, half-suspecting that they were just saving their taunts for when he dared show his face outside his room, during the ceremony. Even if they weren't planning such, their silence, occasional kind words, few curses or insults, were at the very least a last-ditch effort at proving that they were all he needed, that they could be kind, if he did what they wanted him to. Threats and insults hadn't dissuaded him, so perhaps leaving him alone would.

They were, of course, wrong. Cacopheny was not stupid, nor was he forgetful-- not when he was in control of himself, at any rate. The horrible day he'd just endured at their nonexistent hands was still fresh in his mind, and he knew that they couldn't contain themselves forever. It was just a matter of time before they were back to usual. Despite how they fancied themselves, they were more cruel than kind, and in all the time they'd been with him, they had never changed. Sometimes there were more, sometimes less, but their attitudes, their mannerisms... there were always similarities.

We could change, if we wanted to...

If you wanted us to.

If we could go back to the way things used to be.

"But we can't," he sighed at the wheedling, hopeful voices, earning a pause from Chiya and a glance, leaning around from behind him. He turned enough to smile faintly at her, to reassure her that nothing was wrong, and she settled back again, running the comb gently through his hair once more. He was already dressed and dried from a comforting, hot shower-- the towels had been replaced with clean, dry ones, and the broken mirror was gone, and somehow all the water had been cleaned up, though Cacopheny didn't know when it happened nor did he know how it happened-- so all that was left for him to be ready for the ceremony was for Chiya to finish combing and tying back his long hair. She always seemed to take a little longer than necessary, but he didn't mind; it was relaxing for both of them.

Too bad She never tried combing your hair.

Or you, Hers.

Cacopheny ignored that, and the shadows fell silent again. For one thing, She never wanted anything like that; all She was interested in was loving and hating, not small, comforting signs of affection. For another, he didn't really want to think about Her right now. He had a ceremony to go to, and dragons to meet. Right now, he felt remarkably calm about it all, though that could change at a moment's notice, so he didn't want to tempt fate by thinking troubling thoughts.

Part of the reason he was so calm now was the decision he'd made, very early on today, to simply not attend the meal being held beforehand; a short while ago, Ketvia had brought him a small plate of whatever was being served, which he had finished about half of, before heading back out again. Ketvia had been right when she'd first told Aloia that it would be best for him to have his meals in his room. Whatever "manners" and "social niceties" were, he didn't yet know, but apparently one needed them for formal, many-people meals such as the one going on right now out on the lawn in front of the complex. The thought of having to eat, in a chair, at a table, with a whole troupe of people he didn't know, all staring at him and waiting for him to do something strange... it was enough to make him shudder. Chiya rested a hand on his shoulder at the slight movement, and he relaxed again.

He had, actually, felt a little guilty for not going, when Akija had said she was saving him a seat. Ketvia went, in his place, to give his apologies to the daemon and let him and Chiya know when dinner itself was over-- when it was time for him to come out, else he miss the part of the night that was actually important to him. He hoped Akija would forgive him; she was the only person he knew here, and if they both bonded, she would be the only person he knew among the other pairs. Maybe, even if he didn't bond, she will still be around to keep him company while he waited for the next ceremony. If there was any point to doing so.

No, he wasn't going to think like that. It would just make him nervous. As he couldn't come up with anything particularly positive to think about the ceremony, though, either, he resolutely focused on the comforting feel of Chiya still combing his hair. Before he'd met her and Ketvia, his hair had simply never been combed, except on rare occasions when She grew tired of him looking matted and forcibly untangled it. That kind of combing wasn't anything like this; it always hurt, and there was no lingering, just swift expediency, and was usually followed by another bout of loving and hating, which would just tangle it up again.

This, now. This was much more pleasant. He shut his eyes with a little sigh as Chiya bound the long, black mane back behind him, and gave his shoulders a little hug.

"There, you're all ready," she said, smiling, as she got to her feet and took his hands to help him to his feet, too.

"Just in time, too," Ketvia said from the door. "Dinner's done, they're just waiting on you to get things started."

Fear returned, again, like he'd been sure it would, and the shadows roared briefly in his ears, unintelligible and rumbling, like the ground itself was shaking. The remains of the small meal felt cold and heavy in his stomach, and for a moment, before Chiya caught them up again, his hands started to tremble. "It'll be fine," she told him, smiling, and for once, her shadow seemed as full of hope as her voice. "Go on." 

A glance to Ketvia showed her smirking at him. "You'll do," she said simply. "Now get, before Aloia gets impatient and starts without you."

Since he'd gone through too much stress so far to have it all be for nothing, Cacopheny slipped past Ketvia and out the door, moving slowly and carefully down the hall towards the empty meeting room and the tunnelway leading outside. He wanted to look normal, to move like a regular person, at least for this one night. Both dragons followed him patiently out, walking just behind him and matching the pace he set, so that he led them instead of the other way around. He could hear the dragon-shadows of the kits, waiting just ahead of him, assembled outside for the bonding, and tried to ignore the sound. Somehow they'd beat him out. 

The sun had set, but as he moved down that tunnelway, he could see light out on the small meadow that he had only seen a few times, on the times he actually felt comfortable leaving his room. The light that illuminated it now was magical, and it hummed and sang like a shadow, only without words. He paused before stepping into that light, staring blankly across the grass at the people there, at Akija and Aloia and so many people he didn't know and who didn't know him. 

Are you sure you want to do this?

With a deep breath, sighed out again, he took that step into the light, and answered, Yes.