Oh, he is going. He's helping cut paper, he ought to go. Palamedes glances up from his paper cutting, appropriately interested - they don't have zoologists on the Sixth, mostly because they don't have animals. Even if he isn't a huge fan of the sea, that must be an interesting job.

"Mine is a... terrible bird," he offers, but with unmistakable fondness. She may be a giant harpy eagle, the name of which he does not know and has never learned, but she's his horrible raptor. He waves his freshly cut paper strips idly, like, that omen! What a card! "I let her keep to herself. She'll be perched nearby, somewhere outside.

"I'm not sure the omens follow any kind of rule for how they form, necessarily. Yours must like being a dog."