Re: On the train: The Schoolboy/The Witch
Was he? There was the pressing sense that he hadn't been to a school on a hill in a while, but the fingers in his seemed certain of it, and so he nodded. "I am, I -" the steps were easier, the rhythm coming a little more naturally. He was learning these steps, it was simple, and they could find each other in an Inn, because he wasn't stuffy, he wasn't going to be stuffy, and this felt easy - even as it felt not entirely natural. The confidence that was pushing in on the edges of consciousness wasn't normal. It was someone else's confidence. Someone.
"I'll come to the Inn, darling." The final word was tacked on, nothing Oliver would have said, but Oliver wasn't standing there any longer. The boy had grown several inches to just over six feet, the limp, dark blonde hair, replaced by brown styled curls, the uniform clothing replaced by a stylish button-up and dark charcoal wool trousers.
"The fuck...?" He'd been dancing a moment before, a boy with a girl. And it was decidedly not a girl across from him now. Nor was it anyone that he recognized.
Hugh realized that they were still holding hands, and he glanced up. There had been a boy. He was pretty certain he'd been the boy, a headboy at a boarding school, of all things. But he had no memory of how he'd been... that person. "You alright?" He thought he was, even as he tried to figure out what the fuck was happening or how he'd gotten here.