His cavalierness was infuriating. Perhaps it was simply her perpetual short temper as of late, but she found each word spilling from his mouth the be a wasted one. She had made a mistake in taking captive such a smart beast, and now she was paying for it. He spoke daggers and looked on her with a wise expression. As she paced and snorted, she let her wings extend and absentmindedly stroke the heavy birdsong air. The return of the god of the sun had brought the heat back to the Dragon's Throat desert, and the Bashkir in her shuddered as sweat dampened her curls. She could see Aurelius' discomfort just as well, but what separated them was simple: she had lived in this land for seasons now (as much as it pained her to recognize it), and she had grown accustomed to the heat. A beast of cold such as himself would suffer more severely, even in the shade of the Oasis.

With a bored and frustrated look edging her deep blue eyes, she stared him down. "It's not up to you to determine what is a waste of my time, Aurelius, she spoke with a sneer and a wild lash of her short, thick tail. Desert sands stirred in the slight breeze she formed with the motion, and above her Kye whooped and whistled cajolingly. The falcon had her eyes on the goat of a horse before them, and with no more than a whistle would pester him to no end. For now, however, Xira was going to try diplomacy.

"No one is as strong as they say they are; you are no exception. So tell me, where have you and your fellow refugees been taking cover after the war?" She asked with a smooth tone and a look of patience that was uncharacteristic to her true self but all she ever maintained as sleuth. But still manipulative qualities laid within her breast, and they shone brightly. "Or have you lost so much of your power in the absence of Mauja that you don't even know?" She let a look of superiority flash across her features. It was common knowledge that Mauja had disappeared after the war, and Aurelius had been at his side as a constant follower. With Mauja gone, it was safe to assume that some of Aurelius' prestige had gone with him. She wandered slowly over to the lakeshore where the flower buried its roots poorly, and nudged it gently with her nose. Her hot breath danced across its delicate petals, and her eyes of iridescent navy took in its feeble shape. It would take a miracle to keep it alive, and constant vigilance to keep it safe.

Expectantly, she turned back to face the stallion. She had heard of his role in the war but it interested her little. She had chosen not to fight for either side and did not regret it; she simply sought information of the aftermath. The previous members of the World's Edge could not have simply dropped off of the map, and she was certain that they were organized. But where, and what were they doing?