Marion turned slowly, as though emerging from a half-remembered song, her eyes refocusing on the present. Her expression brightened with fond familiarity upon seeing Miss Joshi accompanied by her friend.

“Miss Joshi,” she greeted, her voice as light as parchment pages turning. “Eeeeeeeeeeeever a welcome presence. I do hope you brought your ears as well as your curiosity. Tonight’s lesson may prove as much a concert as a class.” Her gaze flicked briefly toward the table of instruments, hardly a secret that this evening involved certain musical elements. “Find yourselves somewhere comfortable. Just not toooooooooooo comfortable as not to go drifting off to lullabies this evening. That would be teeeeeeeeeerribly rude and result in detention”

She offered a small, knowing smile before turning back to the instruments once more.


Marion, ever so perceptive despite her lack of corporeal ears, turned smoothly mid-drift as Kara entered. Her eyes twinkled in thanks to the moonlight more so than her own ghostly glow.

“Miss Walsh,” she greeted with a graceful nod, her tone light but knowing. “It’s a pleasure to see you again—upright and unscathed, no less.” She floated just a touch closer, folding her translucent hands in front of her as if settling into a fireside chat. Ooooooh those days of feeling the warmth of a fire lick her cheeks as she settled in for the evening over a good book and the snores of her dear husband wafting from the bedroom. “Now, I dooooooo believe you were on the verge of a theory about the lighting. Something about your feet, perhaps?” Her expression was the very picture of polite intrigue, though there was a hint mirth behind it. “Do go on, my dear. I do SOOO adore a well-formed complaint dressed up as scientific reasoning.”


Her head tilted ever so slightly at the sound of Miss Thanatos-Misra’s voice, as if tuning into a familiar frequency, and turned with a smile that bloomed slow but sincere.

“Miss Thanatos-Misra,” she said, with the cordial warmth of someone greeting a favored niece. “A pleasure, as always. I trust the stars haven’t lost their sparkle for you, hmmmm? Not even in the shadow of sweet confections.” She gave a graceful sweep of her hand toward the seats, the candlelight catching in the filmy edge of her translucent sleeve. “Settle in, dearie, yes, settle in. We’ve a bit of magic to coax from all these lovelies before the night is done.”


“Mr. Amstern,” she said warmly. “You have the look of someone peeeeeeeeeerfectly in tune with the rhythm of twilight. I suspect you're one of the few who find the late hour a delight rather than a demand.”
Her gaze drifted to where his attention had flickered—the instruments, polished and peculiar, catching stray starlight. “Curiosity suits you, dearie. We'll be putting it to use shortly, I pooooooooooositively assure you.”


Marion paused mid-glide, the candlelight flickering curiously through her translucent form as she turned toward Mr. Cadwallader.

“Well now,” she said with a smile tugging at one corner of her mouth, “unless time has unraveled and rewound itself in the stairwell, I do believe we’ve skipped straight through breakfast and tea to find ourselves firmly planted in the evening.” Her tone was light, not unkind, and much more amused than admonishing. “Still, Mr. Cadwallader,” she prompted gently, floating a little nearer to peer at him over the rim of her spectacles. “I rather admire the optimism of greeting every hour as morning. A clean slate, a bright beginning, a perfectly blank star chart. Though I CERTAINLY hope you have not slept the whole day away and thus the good morning.”


“Ah, a goooooood evening to you too, Miss Bay,” she greeted with a serene, airy lilt, gliding a touch closer to the transfer. “Still settling in just fine, I hope? I do imagine the past month has felt rather like being dropped into someone else’s dream—new halls, new faces, and Peeves hurling inkpots at your head.”

She tilted her head, eyes lifting to the dome as if sharing in Rory’s quiet awe. “A beauty, isn’t she? The sky never quite looks the same twice… though I suspect that’s a big part of what draws us to it.”
She paused and then in a quieter voice, “Dooooooo let me know if anything feels a bit too new. Transitions can be tricky little things, and I’d be dreadfully cross with myself if one of our brightest new stars felt adrift.”