She watches the departure of the healer with a faint smile on her lips, one tinged with a bitterness that she can’t help but hide. For all her years among them and boundless service, Lena was still not yet truly one of their numbers; Illynx did not blame her, however. She had learned long ago that some could not be taught that their grandest purpose and reason for life was to place all others beneath their hooves. Even if the healer could not see at she did, the words were now there, to be pondered, to fester and brew; perhaps no others had planted this seed in the mind of the pretty bay, her gentle heart untouched by the poisoned barbs that adorned the crowns of so many who wandered the passes.

"Farewell," she calls most cheerfully after the woman and her bonded, their discomfort mildly amusing to the Lady. For having been among the unicorns of the Plague as long as she had, you’d think that Lena would be less sensitive to their teachings, their black book of half truths and lies, and it left the gilded bitch smiling softly at the tender heart of their healer.

It made her good at her craft. One could not blame the woman for clinging to her joy and unity, even if it was wrong.

"Excuse Lena. Some refuse to see our natural rights," she giggles lightly, shaking of the quick departure of the woman with a light hearted nature that she should perhaps not express.

She returns her focus to the chatting of the child, her face remarking little on the departure of the mare who did not hold her views. If Jorogumo was observant as Illynx thought she was, even this slight down turn in her training of the girl would hold – nearly all of their number were of the same thoughts that she was, and that would shine through in the pale eyed child’s experiences with those she shared her home with. It would seem the majority opinion – enough to shape a being greatly, Illynx knew.

She herself laughs heartily at the mention of horses being born from eggs, though she is unsure of how true or untrue it may be. She hasn’t made it a point to follow the breeding rituals of the sky devils, and though she has heard some things, she can fill in no more truth to the description. Perhaps they were born from eggs – the thought surely was amusing enough. "I don’t imagine it would be pleasant," she says with a broad grin on her lips.