Her laughter rings out heartily as she eyes the bored look on the cat’s face and catches the return jest towards Thranduil. She’s spent a fair amount of time in Sialia’s company since her arrival with the General, but Thranduil has done much more than the dark mare on imprinting himself in the golden Lady’s thoughts. Whether that was good or bad news for the stag was yet to be determined, but she felt enough chivalry between herself and the leaf marked stallion to find great fun in poking fun at him; it was common with those she found to be friends, as flimsy as a title that was when used by the callous golden wench.

"Been hitting the cups, dear?" she chuckles, her eyes crinkled in amusement as her laughter subsides enough to allow words to flow past her lips. She catches the smile from the soldier that says she will learn more later, but gives little mind to it; the blue marked unicorn will come to her when she was ready, and not sooner. She only hopes for her sake that the father was pure, and that the child born of him would not wear ugly marks of ill breeding; she had failed her goals enough already by letting the hybrid child stay here, and would be horrified to have to deal with Sialia as had been done with Delinne and the hideous daughter born of her stupid union with that pegasus stallion.

The poor, poor man who had done it to her – he would have all the horror as his own when Illynx found him and drug him to the hooves of the Reaper for touching what was off limits if the child was born wearing the marks of her parent’s sins.

Perhaps she would have Aithniel assist in it all, watch their dual anguish from afar and sip on it like it was a fine beverage like the one that Thranduil had jokingly drank too much of.

Her smile never falters despite her dark thoughts; it has been droll and peaceful on her mountain lately. A small piece of her wishes for the distraction of tearing two idiots apart while their blasphemed child watches, if only to revel in the scent of their blood and the shrillness of their screams.

The mare shortly after takes her leave, and Illynx gives her a nod of farewell as she watches her go. Turning towards Saffron, the Lady prepares to excuse herself, as well. "I dare say we’ll leave you to find a bed, Saffron," she explains, stepping towards her son and nudging him slightly with her shoulder to hint that he had to leave – even if he didn’t want to go to bed yet, he couldn’t stand here and bother the tiger all evening long with so little sun left in the sky, "do make yourself at home and seek me if you find you have questions."

She pauses, a little giggle breaking her lips as she glances back over her shoulder. "Oh, I almost forgot," she says, golden eyes brightening with a temporary worry that it had not been included in her earlier haggling, "we hold a treaty of peace between ourselves and a herd known as World’s Edge. I cannot forcibly keep you from taking them as your own, to be sure, but I cannot give you political asylum if you break our arrangement to satisfy your needs. I hope you understand."