In recent times, Llewelyn had been feeling strangely distant from herself, as if she were standing outside of her own body for minutes on end and watching some other— some average — mare attempt to move and talk as she did. The scholar knew the word for such an experience, knew that dissociation was often a symptom of some trauma or other great stressor. Yet, the maiden refused to acknowledge that any part of herself was broken enough for her conscious mind to actively remove itself from her physical form. It was nonsense. Nonsense and ludicrous and more nonsense that she would not be in full control of her facilities at all times; for Oriens’ sake ,she was a Lady of the Court of Dawn, a Scholar Lady of the Court of Dawn, and she would be a disgraced wretch before she would admit to any lack of control.
A small line appeared between her brows as her expression darkened into a dissatisfied almost-glower, though the lass knew that she would look less than threatening to any who glimpsed her face. Having been born and bred for the life of a prim and proper member of the nobility, Llewelyn’s range of expression was more subtle and markedly less dramatic than those of more common stock. Where her face may be set in a joyous grin, to the untrained eye, it would seem that she was offering only a slight smile; such misunderstanding was the weight of a Lady of the court to bear, however.
Willing herself to remain within her own head and within her own body, the horned mare’s frown deepened infinitesimally before the resounding timbre of a stallion’s voice snapped her back into the sunlit courtyard. Blinking surprise from golden eyes, Llewelyn found herself looking up into the azure gaze of a strikingly large stranger. Their eyes met for only a brief moment, however, before the male turned his focus to the towering edifice before them. At his question, Llewelyn pursed her lips in a show of regret as she motioned with her head toward the worn plaque.
”Unfortunately, I don’t know. It looks like time has claimed her for it’s own, though I am sure there must be some recording of her in the library.” Tilting her head in a careful nod of greeting, the jewels in her horns whispering and tinkling with the movement, Llewelyn donned a cordial smile as she appraised the iceberg of a man, “Fair greetings to you, I haven’t seen your face in the palace. I am Llewelyn.”
@Sarkan he’s so cute im ;-; why u poach bby
