Any admonitions laid upon the filly by her mother were not heard, such was the arrogance and confidence that the flicka hosted within her, remnants of a granddam from her father's line - would she grow out of it? If she were to take after the notorious FireSlayer, most likely not. If she were to take after the FireSlayer in more ways than her arrogance, most of Helovia would know her name almost as soon as they passed the Threshold. As it was, the filly was a young, rambunctious child for the moment, so such behavioural quirks could be overlooked, swept aside, forgiven with ease. Azzuen doted upon her, perhaps more than he should have, and he supported her attitude, seeing the fire within her that spoke of his mother, of the FireSlayer - the General had no doubt that his daughter would grow to be mighty and great, he did not want to restrict such growth no matter what.

Distracted that she was, it took several moments for the filly to hear what the others were saying, and moments more for her to comprehend. Shaking her head about, sneezing and snorting, she tried and tried again to rid her coat of the spot that she was sure was there. At the stallion's words she became more panicked, too caught up in the moment to even entertain the idea that he might be jesting with her. Soothing melodies came from her mother then, the nickname bestowed from her mother's lips distracting her movements, the icy blue gaze tilting to view her mother's own beautiful eyes, small ears pricked forward. Sides heaved with the effort, her breath could be seen as it was pushed from her nostrils, and she turned her attention swiftly to Mauja, noting with some relief that he did indeed, still have his spots. A huge grin coursed her mouth as he looked over himself, and reassured her again that the spots were there to stay, harmonious laughter erupting from the belle - she was a little bit hyperactive, the adrenalin from her antics causing a euphoric, restless mood to settle over her.

"They suit you better, I think!" She said happily, trotting up to him again, bumping her maw upon his shoulder, much more boldly and confidently this time. Still, she retracted it just as quick, and her eyes may have crossed over as they tried to see whether a spot had transferred to her nose once again, before quickly reassessing that the speckled markings were still upon the steed. A nod was given, her experimenting complete, she deemed Mauja OK to be around, for now. "Dad was wrong Mum," she informed her mother, making notes also to inform her father, "his spots aren't conta, contagee, contagious at all!" It wasn't often that her youthful tongue struggled over words anymore, but the larger, slightly more complex word did trip her up for a moment. "I suppose you can hang around. But make sure you stay away from others if you think your spots will ever rub off." Seriously, Cirrus addressed Mauja again, the laughter from before gone from her eyes, a naïve 'wisdom' upon the child's façade.