[ SKIPPING EVERYONE AH flails gonna wrap this up. <3 ]

Glacial, distant and quiet, Mauja stood his ground; impassive of face and cold of eye he watched as the silver Pegasus spoke one word too many, and brought the wrath of d'Artagnan down upon her head. He snorted quietly. Perhaps she'd learn to stay out now, and nowhere in his body did he find even an ounce of pity. If her tongue flapped so loosely and she didn't have more brain cells to rub together, it would be to do Kri a kindness to lop her head off. Surely the Resolute didn't put up with these kinds of idiots? Was she growing weak and soft? Or was she, ah, how it made his lips curl into a smile, unaware of her Sergeant barging in and making threats of war?

A barely noticeable shiver coursed through him at the sudden appearance of silver-and-blue flames; the small smile hardened into a snarl before melting back to match his emotionless facade. Fire. The sickening stench of it scorching d'Artagnan's skin and muscle brought back memories he had no desire to feel, and Aviya edging over with a hungry look in her eyes saved him from drowning in the sensation of having every inch of his skin the seat of flames. Shifting to better face her (and incidentally, better shield poor Ari) his expression changed little. One ear twitched to her voice, and his gaze slid past Aviya's head and back to the fight. "I think that watching the Doctor beat their Sergeant-" Such contempt. "-to a pulp is more than enough." His voice was cold, and his gaze came back to Aviya. Something glinted in it, like frost struck by moonlight, and a small, terrible smile curled his lips. In a lower voice he added, "Psychological warfare,". There were more than one way to hurt someone.

He felt like a liar.

But then it was over; Aryel was spitting out more threats and Mauja's pale ears slicked back to his neck. Blowing out an angry snort he raised his head and watched her leave, before growling. "Who's the one throwing a tantrum?" It would be amusing to go after her, and haul her back, prove her words a lie — if he went and got her, she'd come back very much alone. Weak, vulnerable, foolish. It would be...satisfying.

His eyes snapped back to d'Artagnan as he came hobbling over, knowing better than to show his worry and pity. Flames hurt, and Mauja knew it. Instead, he chuckled at his words. "I saw enough to know you've not lost your touch, Doctor," he replied with a crooked smile, reaching out to brush their muzzles together. A few feathers was all that remained of the battle, aside from the blood leaking slowly from cuts and scrapes, and d'Artagnan brought one to his daughter before mentioned the two slaves again. Feeling like he could finally look upon them without suspicion he turned his head around, his blue gaze swirling as it rested first upon Ari, then Lana. He sighed quietly. "I think we've had enough fun for one night. Crowley's coarse but I don't think Faelene would want her servant ruined." His eyes hardened. "If you try such foolish things as running off again, it'll be you, and not someone else, who bleeds. Best get back to where you're supposed to be, before you're missed." And he clicked his teeth in the air, moving in a little closer as if to herd them back to the caves. Briefly his eyes settled upon Athena, wondering if she'd know — if she'd understand. Or if she'd just think him cold and cruel.

Best not to think of it.