<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/9/90/ELFIE.jpg)</div><br/>Comy, if pressed, would begrudgingly admit that her "parents" had been more than generous with the rules they'd insisted she vow to follow before sending her out to make her way in the world.  She's heard the laments of others, their griping and bickering about how this or that arbitrary tradition bound them.  She, by comparison, had only a few such directives.<br/><br/>'Course, that didn't preclude those rules from being a pain in her tail end.<br/><br/><strong>Directive the First: Cultivate Worth.</strong><br/><br/>Okay, simple enough, but what by the globes of the Goddess did that even mean?  What was worth?  How was it best cultivated?  Not that she'd been able to ask questions!  Not that she'd known enough at the time to know that perhaps she should have at least tried...and so her path started with the philosophical obstacle of trying to cobble together the metrics of life even as she put one foot in front of the other.<br/><br/><strong>Directive the Second: Uphold the Right.</strong><br/><br/>See previous.  Another loosely defined abstract goal.  Comy supposed that this was all down to two things. First, she was kind of sort of unexpected.  Really unexpected.  So it was entirely possible that, in the aftermath of having her elder sister decked out and sent off, they were a bit hard pressed to give her something to work with as well.  Which would fit what very little she knew of her, uh, folks.<br/><br/><strong>Directive the Third: Inculcate the Creative Eristic Principle.</strong><br/><br/>No idea what that one meant when they gave it to her, and she still wasn't really clear on the difference between the Creative and Destructive Eristic Principles.  Unfortunately, while she later became aware that there was at least a manual on the topic, she hadn't been given one, 'cause that would have been<em>way too easy</em>.<br/><br/><strong>Directive the Fourth: Don't Forget To Have Fun.</strong><br/><br/>That last was why she was here, application and instruction packet in hand, gazing around at all the other "new-type demis" in the hall.  She'd decided, on a whim, to...well, long story short, she'd ended up here instead of where she meant to be, and after getting good and distracted by all the underclad and nubile and oh so wonderfully distracting girls, she'd eventually figured out that she wasn't where she thought she was.  Not even close.  And once she figured that...<br/><br/>Here she was, looking about at all the other demis (whatever that meant), puzzling over the things to do and people to see and...ooooo, boobies!  No, no, wait, focus.