She watched the telltale signs of irritation as they rolled from him, marking them like so many tallies in her head.

An ear tilted back, a twitch of that prehensile tail, a disgusted snort.
One, two, three, and she was still standing uninjured before him.

How long would that sun-touched physique last before his patience evaporated?

His words dripped honey from sooty lips, causing her own blushed pair to stretch ever wider in response; though this grin was not borne on the back of happiness, only the risk of injury and the hint of something far more sinister proved to be her motivation here. A pet name was used as a stand-in for her true identity and for this, the ivory dove was delighted; anonymity was a fragile and unpredictable thing and she craved the loss of control that sometimes shared it's breath.

The winged child listened aptly as his words continued to flow in a sickly sweet semblance of sarcasm, each syllable dropping to the earth accompanied by the promise of some risky endeavor. Or at least that's what she told herself. There was a sudden thwacking sound as the golden strangers' tail met his side and Orithia found herself staring at him quizzically; maybe the wounds that laced his frame really were self-inflicted. She didn't give herself time to think on that possibility, however, before sidestepping the horned stallion and taking a small stroll about him.

There wasn't much flair or grandeur to the mare's movements, but each step remained a performance; she liked to pretend she was a bit of a ringleader in times such as these, poking and prodding whatever beast out of their slumber just for the thrill. What would she find lying dormant within this glowing creature? A lion or a mouse? Finishing her lap, she assessed him once more, the secretive grin that played over her features not moving an inch. What else could she say to this man cloaked in mystery and his own blood? What would rile him into action? Would he even rise to the bait that she laid before him?

She quirked a brow and let the silence sink in, carefully considering her words before tossing them into the breeze that had began to push at the surrounding mists, "A fine choice, I like to think hearts are more of an accessory." Her voice dropped in pitch as her eyes rested upon the crown that rested so delicately between curved ears, "Where is your kingdom, dear Prince? Shouldn't they be rushing to relieve you of your wounds? Or are you a king of nothing just like the rest of us?"