The dining hall was a study in contrasts—massive obsidian pillars supporting a vaulted ceiling, yet set with delicate crystal chandeliers that scattered prismatic light across the table. Gadas took his seat at the head with surprising elegance, his massive hands handling the silverware with the precision of a master jeweler setting gems. The steak knife looked like a child's toy between his fingers, yet he carved his meat into perfect cubes without a single scrape against the porcelain.
Deldasa mirrored her father's movements flawlessly, her crimson nails glinting as she lifted the wineglass by its stem. Cyrus's technique was more deliberate—a swordsman's economy of motion, each gesture efficient but no less refined. Mikaela adjusted seamlessly, her usual playful demeanor subdued into quiet poise, while Movis fumbled only once with his soup spoon before correcting himself with a glare at the offending utensil.
