[size=9pt]"Gooood morning, Vietnam!" Comes a tinny, harsh voice, echoing through the observatory and bouncing violently off the walls. In Moon's paw is a megaphone; Lord knows where he'd gotten his paws on it, but word on the grapevine was Satan himself supplied him with it. "Rise and shine, folks. It's that time of the week again."

The Meeting started early. The sun was just barely raising its hedonistic head over the treeline, and there really was no reason for anyone to be awake this early. But, see, Moon hadn't slept. With the electricity of unexplained anxiety running itself up and down his spine all night, he hadn't caught a wink of shuteye. He'd thought some stuff over. There was shit he had to say.

"Starting with the easy stuff; Welcome, Ren, Syndicate, Vanillafrost, Azazel, Titan, Syndicate and Abraxas. Hope you don't get sick of us too soon. If you've got any questions, we've got a crew of Starstruck Guardians ready to help you out. Don't go to Thea, though. She bites.

Oh, also-- Snowbound's got a Mass Gathering going on right now. Pop in. Build a snowman.

"But, back to Thea biting-- There's an elephant in the room I gotta' address. Or, a snake-eyed merchant not in the room." Pause for laughs. "You've likely heard by now that Sunhaven paid us a visit yesterday. If you haven't, you're probably as deaf as Bub is blind. Either way, I'm here to give you the lowdown; Somehow, some way, we managed to rub Marina and Buckingham up the wrong way. Personally, I thought our rugged nonchalance was pretty fuckin' charming, but they weren't feeling it-- They dropped the alliance." He runs his tongue over his lips, because, as slightly hilarious as this whole situation was, Moon understood Bast might not be so proud of the-- What was it they'd called it? Lack of diplomacy. "Now, this probably just means we have a sense of humor and they've yet to find theirs, but this whole thing stinks of bad shit to come, so there's some stuff I gotta' go through.

"Firstly, Thea-- Stay the fuck away from the border if there's official shit going down. Unless there's some obvious joiner hanging around looking like a lost puppy, I don't want to see you within a mile of the boundaries. Not until you learn how to bite your tongue. Secondly, from here on out, I want weekly training sessions. I know we're all content shoving our noses up the asses of Astrology Maps and leaving out muscles to rot, but we gotta' be able to protect ourselves. Higher Ups should take it upon themselves to set this up, but, for now--" A pregnant pause, where Moon glances to the most hulking figure on the outskirts of the crowd, and his lips tilt up. Mirthful. "Bub. I know you don't have any high position yet, and, honestly, I don't feel like you want one-- but as repayment for how much of an asshole you are, I want you to set up this week's training session. I know you got some freaky shit under your belt. Just-- don't eat anyone.

"On to Promotions and Demotions," Under the lion's paw is a crinkled piece of paper, complete with various leaderly notes, and he looks down and seems to falter for a moment. He runs his paw over it, smooths it out, and reads the words over and over until he grows the balls to speak them. "Peri, demoted." Says Moon, finally, and, for a moment, he looks into the crowd in hopes of finding her until he realizes the chances are about zero to none. He clears his voice, promptly hops on to the next announcement, though his tone has dimmed. "This means Cleric tryouts are open. If you're interested in giving it a go, tell me now, and I'll set one up. As for promotions-- Gabe, congrats. You pulled through. Step back up to Starstruck Guardian." Says the Astral Seraph, and then, in a bizarre moment of what he'll soon realize was painful foreshadowing, says, "Just don't go ratting us out to any fish-breathed fuckers, okay? Hope that traitor shit was just a phase. The Alzheimer’s setting in, or something."

"Alright," Sighs Moon, and finally employs the key phrase he's learned since last week; "Meeting dismissed."

© ceilidh

[size=9pt]"You can try for Halo." Says Moon, stepping down from where he'd stood above the rest and towards the small child that had appeared at the border only a few days prior. His brashness is forgotten, replaced instead with mellowness that always takes hold of the lion around kids. "The old leader retired that position, but I can bring it back for you, if you want it." He distinctly remembers his own Halo tryouts, how he'd felt when he'd got the position. It felt like it'd been centuries since. "Basically, you'll be the Apprentice of the Cleric. We don't have none of those, at the moment, but I can show you the ropes. Think your up for it, pup?"

Oni's cutting voice interrupts the moment, and Moon glances up with a slightly disgruntled look. His sour expression only grows the more the Lieutenant talks. "Yeah, sure," says Moon, in a voice that means anything but yeah, sure. Who the fuck did Oni think he could take? They had about three functioning warriors, at the moment. Them against a ship of ruthless Pirates was a suicide mission. "Be my guest. Just make sure your army of Dwarf Stars and Thea have their diapers packed before you take off, yeah?"