Ouroboros Spine yn rhedeg mewn cylchoedd

The gentle call touches his ears, and Llewellyn turns slowly to face the woman, eyes narrowing from instinct. The wounds left by the princess are still fresh, as is his humiliation in defeat. She does not carry herself quite like his rival, but she is a stranger, and because of that--and perhaps rightfully so--he is wary.

"Yes?" he asks tersely, ears folding back slightly as he speaks. He waits for her response, impatiently, ready to brush past her at a moment's notice. Perhaps the girl is used to charmers, and will be taken aback at his attitude. And make no mistake, he is a charmer, under the right circumstances--and he can't think of circumstances more different from the ideal than these of late. These lands have a distinct shortage of charmers, or so he has noticed; perhaps he fits in better here than one would think.