The time had finally come for Rhys to adorn his robe and his hat and walk across the gymnasium floor to the stage with the rest of his peers. His wings flared thoughtfully as he flicked at the little dangly piece of his hat. Somehow, someway, Rhys had managed to fight his way in to college. He was going to be heading for Grendel University where he was going to chase his dream of becoming a top chef. Since his days cooking in the kitchen with his mom, cooking had always had a soft spot in Rhys' heart. As slovenly as he was in his home-life, the one place that always remained immaculately clean was his kitchen. His knives were always kept well sharpened and his spices labeled and in the same spot he had left him. Cross contamination or leaving food out, to Rhys, warranted being thrown out.

Rhys ran a tight kitchen, and was a great cook. True, he could have easily gone to community college and gotten a certificate, but Rhys wanted to learn all the psychology and sciences behind eating, as well as the more artsy forms. He wanted to learn sugary spinning, he wanted to focus on his knife skills, he wants to study french cuisine. At some point, Rhys wanted to travel and sample dishes from all around the world ...

... but first, Rhys had to fall in line, step up the stairs to the podium and accept his diploma of graduation.

So, with a big, deep breath inward, Rhys started walking forward ...