Arkai's eyebrows quirked just a millimeter, barely perceptible, when Cecilia spoke. The accent was subtle, woven into the vowels and the cadence like a thread of silver through dark fabric.
It was definitely from Oathran's influence. The Dragon Lord's manner of speech, absorbed and adapted, layered over her own voice until it became something new entirely.
So even the way she moved wasn't enough? He wondered how someone could transform into an entirely different persona with just hours of training?
He knew, of course, that this was not merely training. This was Cecilia. Her mind, her adaptability, her absolute refusal to fail at anything she set herself to. She had taken their suggestions, Eastiel's chains, Oathran's magic, his own vision of the veil, and woven them into a living, breathing presence.
Lady Sees was no longer a costume.
Beside him, Qinryc Lukas's lips twitched.
