She was well and rested - quite the feat for her these days.

Hawezi had been becoming increasingly mobile, making friends and spreading his oblivious cheer throughout the Edge and it's borderlands. A soft smile curled at the edges of the woman's coral lips as she watched the gangly colt, still sleeping in these wee morning hours, pale eyelids closed over strikingly innocent eyes. More and more frequently, the blushed woman had noticed, there was a pang in her gut at the sight of the child at peace - an urge to curl around him, claim him as hers to protect and provide for.

And yet, that was not plausible.

The child of a Gracious King and a Warrior Queen wasn't fated to be tainted by the touch of a murdering ex-whore. So she stood at the appropriate distance, remained appropriately quiet, soothed herself with his happiness and nothing more. A warmth had began to spread from her belly to her chest, blossoming forth on a wave of what some may have called happiness - but Orithia knew better than to believe that there was any such emotion left in her. Contentment colored her pastel eyes with a new shade of calm, brushing away at the less savory portions of her soul.

If only for the moment.

The moment shattered in a call, shrill and filled with something akin to joy.The beckoning hailed the Elephant King in a markedly feminine voice and Orithia's curiosity was piqued. With a last glance at the sleeping Boy Prince, the rose forced away her worry and moved toward the scent of other. Further toward the borders, glass crunching beneath her hooves and the mists swirling lazily about her form, Orithia moved as an apparition. As she spied the slim figure and its' swollen belly, the pegasus arched a brow in tentative concern; was this yet another scorned woman seeking asylum beneath the reign of a Plainswalker King?

Yet as she slowed to a stop before the gold accented mare, Orithia caught the scent of her mfalme lingering about the strangers' skin. Eyes narrowing with poorly-hidden suspicion, the warrioress took a deeper inhale, air ballooning out of her nostrils in twin clouds of vapor. Cocking her head to the side and ruffling her wings against her sides, the desert dove considered the shorter mare and the boldly striped creature upon her head. A small, cruel smile toyed at the edges of her mouth and the silence stretched on, the disgust and rage simmering beneath her pale skin palpable in the balmy air.

"I know who you are, dalali." Her voice was a syrupy coo, quiet and warm and dripping poison to the shimmering earth, "I know what you have done to him, to my Mfalme. I have seen the ruination you bring to those you claim to love and I only have this to say to you;"

Even the silence was sharp.

"You will not deign to harm him again, you will bite your tongue in his presence as well as mine - your right to speak your mind ended when you hurt him. Your loyalty to him will be undying and unquestioning. If you make a mistake where he or his children are concerned ever again, your beautiful horn and those enchanting eyes will become nothing more than my bedazzled crown."

Her voice was low, even, dangerous; a blade slicing through any doubt of the promises she spoke. Eyes trailed along the blackened letter engraved on her chest, the stamp claiming her as lower, lesser, filth. 

That grin only grew.

"I see you have been branded before, no? Such crude handiwork must have been painful. Such a shame it would be to see another pressed into your flesh... Yes. What a shame it would be to have to press another mistake into your flesh."

Eyes snapped back up to the mare's face - Rexanna's face, she knew this as much as she knew anything - her smile a knifes blade against a bare throat.

"Do I make myself clear, dalali?"

She wasn't hard to read, this Rexanna.

In truth, Orithia was slightly disappointed that the woman Tembovu had shredded his heart over wasn't much more than an irritating gnat. Knowing the behemoth, knowing his past, knowing the love he harbored for his deceased woman and their child - she had hoped that the next mare to catch the Elephant King's affections would at least be worth her salt. Glancing up from the glistening baby blues that served as Rexanna's eyes, Orithia noted the boldly shaded rodent and had to choke back a laugh.

The tiny thing seemed to have more spice than it's bonded.

The winged maiden continued to eye the fuzzy creature as Rexanna spoke, voice dripping with a determined vehemence. Swiveling an ear toward the mare and quirking an invisible brow, Orithia half listened and remained silent throughout the woman's reply. As Rexanna continued to speak, the winged lass noted the conviction behind her words, the stubborn conviction - but, there, the sudden silence, the absolute outrage that filled her next words.

There.
The grin that had settled so carefully onto the ivory mare's lips began to curl ever so slightly at the edges, a gentle smoldering alight within those pale eyes.

As Rexanna's last syllables were snatched away by the breeze, Orithia took a moment to consider her adversary's words - was this conversation even worth a reply on her end or would it just be best to escort the thief back to whatever wasteland she hailed from? Cocking her head to the side, smile vanishing as she appraised the woman before her, Orithia gave a curt nod to no one in particular.

"Seems I've struck a nerve, hm?" Orithia practically purred her reply, the satisfaction at knowing exactly how to string this gold spattered woman up on her own rage filling her from hoof to head, "And yet here you are, spitting venom at the King's own while you strive for whatever victory you think is attainable at my expense." A humorless chuckle escaped from between curved lips, "Tell me, do you know I guard his son in the night? The child he sired with Queen Elsa to cement their rule? Did you know your children are the consequence of weakness? Of a slip-up?"

A smirk, a step closer, the rustle of feathered wings against well-muscled sides.

"Whatever business you have, I can handle it, because I think the King is a little busy with the child that matters, the child begat from something better than a thief, the child that wasn't an absolute mistake."

With an exaggerated sigh and a theatrical fluttering of lashes, Orithia aimed her gaze at Rexanna's dainty hooves and gave the woman a once-over, brows raised in disdain. "What a pity," Her voice had grown soft, almost kind, "That he may not tell me everything - by far, he doesn't tell me everything - but I have been told enough to know that there is nothing here for you, dalali." Behind the obvious dislike that rested in the pupilless blush of Orithia's eyes, there was something akin to pity; and that, she knew, was the greatest insult of all.

And yet, it seemed that despite her best efforts to hate the woman before her, to despise the fragile grace and womanly curvature at her belly, Orithia couldn't help but nurture the tiniest spark of empathy for the mare; she knew what it was like to be used, to be cast aside, to have promises of a better life - of a normal life - shattered at her feet. Yes, she knew what it was like to know there was truly no place to belong. Taking another step toward Rexanna, Orithia surprised herself by reaching her muzzle toward the other mare's shoulder, an attempt at an almost-friendly gesture.

"Come now," She murmured, "Let's not make a spectacle out of you. Let's get you home so you can rest. So the child can rest."