Transfer!Oathran was…
…something else.
He still carried that innate untouchable air. A quiet dignity that seemed to flatten the noisy chaos of the school refectory around him into a more manageable hum, perhaps. The aloof majesty was there, one could see. In the straight line of his back, the careful economy of his movements…
But layered over it, woven through it, was something… normal.
"Oh, it's meat pie," he observed, delighted in his low voice as he surveyed the late-night serving counter. He selected two generous slices, added a bowl of savory broth, and eyed the dessert section with… scholarly consideration.
Cecilia had to ponder a bit before even attempting to describe it.
His gaze lingered on a glazed donut, then drifted to a large, magically chilled bowl bearing a handwritten sign. 'Smoothies.'
He tilted his head, a faint, curious frown touching his brow.
