"Idiots," Mauja muttered under his breath, slowly picking his way across the Basin.

Perched nearby the two mares — well, the girl and the foolish adult — was the white owl, her pale eyes unblinking as she stared at them from her seat on a rock. In spite of herself, she found herself drawn to the intrigue of her bonded's life, though she'd never admit it. And, frankly, it was less interesting when it was joyful, perfect.. it had been thrilling when that foolish Pegasus had flown into their nest, thrilling to tear a piece of now-cold flesh from his ear, smell his blood in the air — so the things which she knew would irk him, she was keen on reporting. If she had been a horse, it would've been with unmasked glee she listened in to their exchange of words, but alas, she was an owl, and the only sign of life she gave was the occasional shift of her head. Mauja could feel it, though, and it held him suspended somewhere between anger and amusement. In many ways, his owl was a nasty piece of work, ruthless and stone cold, but the melding of their souls ensured she was (mostly) harmless.. to his friends.

As it was, he wasn't sure he'd count either of the females into that category, because so far, neither had really impressed him. Snorting, he flicked his tail and kept walking, oddly lackluster in the sunlight, quite corporeal and mortal. By day he seemed nothing more than a white horse, but by night, the soft glow of the moon lit him up, a beacon for all predators to find, a specter to frighten those who were not used to it. Not that wishing for darkness did him any good — the sun wasn't about to set just because he asked it to.

"You might find," he said icily once they were within range of his voice, his cold eyes boring into one and then the other. "That caring for diplomacy does you well in the long run." There was no sneer upon his face, nothing but chill in his voice and within his eyes. Impassively he stared at them, forcing down the urge to throttle them both. "You might also find, that secret groups do not remain secret so long once you start blabbing about them to complete strangers." His eyes narrowed as he looked upon Elizabeth only. "And that obeying the orders from the Crux might work in your favor. Psyche is not one you wish to displease." Chill dripped from his voice, a slight edge to it, and with a brief look of disgust he turned to Azucar. He didn't trust the filly to keep her mouth shut, and that was the reason he hadn't told her about the Plague when bringing her home. Children, who proudly wore their racism upon their sleeve, were useless, nothing but a hindrance. They'd had a few leaks in the past, and if everyone was going to do their best to announce their presence to the world — well, let's just say it made Mauja feel more inclined to let them get blasted to smithereens and then, bitterly, go into hiding and wish them all a happy death. If they weren't smart enough to keep quiet, he wasn't going to die for them.

"But the damage is done," the marble-hearted said coldly, clearly disapproving of it, of how loose their tongues were. "So I suggest both of you shut up about the Plague in the future, or face Psyche's wrath when she finds out you've put us all at risk." Giving both of them a long, cold glare, he flicked his tail and prepared to leave. They'd better heed his warning, or he'd have to do something drastic — like freeze their tongues off. In that moment of darkness, he thought that he might very well prefer a mute army.