She was forced to take a calming breath as her Queen, her supposed ally spoke of a supposed liking toward the disgusting wretch she had all but dragged to the World's Edge. Betrayed, Orithia flashed the snowy mare a scalding glare and felt herself take an involuntary step back, distancing herself physically and therefore symbolically from the infuriatingly handsome stallion and his infuriatingly hideous personality. With a huff, the pale Pegasus spent the remainder of Elsa's monologue staring grumpily at the Plainswalker's overtly hairy hooves, displeasure practically oozing from her pores.

It was clear that her concerns wouldn't be taken seriously by the fairer of her sovereigns, the lack of suspicion toward the mammoth stallion causing Orithia's faith in her monarch to waver. The pink tinged woman already spent every spare moment watching over Hawezi, pacing her way through the trunks and boughs as he slept and snapping at any errant mammal that could wish him harm; she had no time to keep an eye on the newest member of her herd. Teeth gritting in frustration, Orithia felt the violence drain from her body upon a wave of exhaustion, her body reminding her that yes  she was flesh and bone and blood and that yes she needed to rest at some point.

At the sound of her newest nickname - one in a slew of hundreds, if she was being truthful - the mare's head snapped up and her attention was drawn toward Graasvoel and his piss-yellow gaze. Pastel eyes rolling in exasperation, the woman gave a halfhearted mimicry of the stallion's terrible sense of humor, face twisted in derision.

Oh, ho ho ho, pleasure. Oh, hee hee hee, I'm a big fat Korofi and I can't go three minutes without a poor attempt at sexual innuendos. Chuckle, chuckle, mother-cursing chuckle.

Orithia was sure that her face would be stuck in a permanent frown after her exchange with the giant idiot, but she couldn't find enough energy to care; at least it had the potential to make her look fearsome. With another roll of her pupilless eyes and a stifled yawn, the mare turned in the general direction of her sleeping quarters - nothing fancy, just a circular copse of birch trees toward the southern borders of the World's Edge that she had cleared in the center and had been working toward beautifying. It wasn't much, just a grassy space big enough for her wings to stretch before falling into the sweet oblivion of sleep, but it was hers.

She began the short trek at a leisurely pace, tossing her voice over her shoulder as she moved, "My thanks for welcoming the rat, Elsa, go play with your beautiful boy. Gods know that's preferable to wrangling strangers." Pausing in her steps, the dove twisted around to pin Gaal beneath a single coral eye, "I'm off for a nap myself and I'd be loath to let you wander about and terrorize my people. You're not quite welcome, but you'd be tolerated in my quarters."

And with that, she was off.