"Oh?" Serelith drawled, letting amusement color the air between them. "The Lone Wolf can be a lady after all?"
Cerys jumped as if stung. "I—I just thought a pin would keep the layers from my eyes," she sputtered, tugging at the braid like she regretted every petal. "Shut up."
Serelith's smile broadened; teasing this stoic swordswoman was like coaxing a song from an oiled hinge—satisfying precisely because it was difficult. "Adorable," she pronounced, and relished the deeper flush climbing Cerys's neck.
