She wasn't hard to read, this Rexanna.

In truth, Orithia was slightly disappointed that the woman Tembovu had shredded his heart over wasn't much more than an irritating gnat. Knowing the behemoth, knowing his past, knowing the love he harbored for his deceased woman and their child - she had hoped that the next mare to catch the Elephant King's affections would at least be worth her salt. Glancing up from the glistening baby blues that served as Rexanna's eyes, Orithia noted the boldly shaded rodent and had to choke back a laugh.

The tiny thing seemed to have more spice than it's bonded.

The winged maiden continued to eye the fuzzy creature as Rexanna spoke, voice dripping with a determined vehemence. Swiveling an ear toward the mare and quirking an invisible brow, Orithia half listened and remained silent throughout the woman's reply. As Rexanna continued to speak, the winged lass noted the conviction behind her words, the stubborn conviction - but, there, the sudden silence, the absolute outrage that filled her next words.

There.
The grin that had settled so carefully onto the ivory mare's lips began to curl ever so slightly at the edges, a gentle smoldering alight within those pale eyes.

As Rexanna's last syllables were snatched away by the breeze, Orithia took a moment to consider her adversary's words - was this conversation even worth a reply on her end or would it just be best to escort the thief back to whatever wasteland she hailed from? Cocking her head to the side, smile vanishing as she appraised the woman before her, Orithia gave a curt nod to no one in particular.

"Seems I've struck a nerve, hm?" Orithia practically purred her reply, the satisfaction at knowing exactly how to string this gold spattered woman up on her own rage filling her from hoof to head, "And yet here you are, spitting venom at the King's own while you strive for whatever victory you think is attainable at my expense." A humorless chuckle escaped from between curved lips, "Tell me, do you know I guard his son in the night? The child he sired with Queen Elsa to cement their rule? Did you know your children are the consequence of weakness? Of a slip-up?"

A smirk, a step closer, the rustle of feathered wings against well-muscled sides.

"Whatever business you have, I can handle it, because I think the King is a little busy with the child that matters, the child begat from something better than a thief, the child that wasn't an absolute mistake."

With an exaggerated sigh and a theatrical fluttering of lashes, Orithia aimed her gaze at Rexanna's dainty hooves and gave the woman a once-over, brows raised in disdain. "What a pity," Her voice had grown soft, almost kind, "That he may not tell me everything - by far, he doesn't tell me everything - but I have been told enough to know that there is nothing here for you, dalali." Behind the obvious dislike that rested in the pupilless blush of Orithia's eyes, there was something akin to pity; and that, she knew, was the greatest insult of all.

And yet, it seemed that despite her best efforts to hate the woman before her, to despise the fragile grace and womanly curvature at her belly, Orithia couldn't help but nurture the tiniest spark of empathy for the mare; she knew what it was like to be used, to be cast aside, to have promises of a better life - of a normal life - shattered at her feet. Yes, she knew what it was like to know there was truly no place to belong. Taking another step toward Rexanna, Orithia surprised herself by reaching her muzzle toward the other mare's shoulder, an attempt at an almost-friendly gesture.

"Come now," She murmured, "Let's not make a spectacle out of you. Let's get you home so you can rest. So the child can rest."