It was hard to keep her steps from dragging as she moved toward the small clearing at the center of a birch copse that she had came to call home. The exhaustion weighed at her hollowed bones and gave life to aches and bruises that she didn't know she had. It wasn't enough to be tired and sore, though; no, here in Helovia it was never enough for one to be exhausted.

Here in Helovia, insult was always added to injury. Here in Helovia, Orithia had to drag both her tired bones and the sorry carcass of a Plainswalker to her bed.

As if he could hear her thoughts, the stallion's rough baritone broke the fragile silence, though there was a marked change in the way he spoke her name. Glancing back to pin him beneath a single, heavily hooded eye, Orithia simply gave a half hearted grunt in response; there would be time enough for chatting when she was nestled in her little home. As the pair came upon the thick gathering of birch trees, one could see the elaborate series woven branches and vines that acted as walls to the mare's private quarters.

She had been welcome to stay with the other denizens of the World's Edge, a large gathering nearer to the heart of the terrotiy, but for the first time in her short life, Orithia had been free to choose where she lay her head. So she had chosen privacy, wandering about the land until she had discovered the copse, digging up roots and vines, working and sweating tirelessly over those woven walls - she had even collected some of the shattered remnants of the glass wall to string up into the braches and create chiming constellations of her own.

Stepping through the arched entryway (her most recent addition to her quarters, a wide space accented with woven ivy and bone-pale roots that had taken days to finish), Orithia moved gratefully to the plush pile of wilted wildflowers and mosses that served as her bed. Turning, she faced the doorway and waited for her guest to enter, suddenly aware of the wood shavings strewn over the grassy floor and the scatterings of glass and flowers that lay across the wide trunk that served as both her nightstand and workbench.

Eyeing the garish stallion with dim resentment, the mare heaved a sigh before filling the space with her reply, "If I were more inclined to banter, I would tell you that I'm only tired from kicking the asses of idiot brutes like you, but alas, honesty seems to be more tempting." She paused, eyes wandering up up up into the branches strung with glass shards, the light of the sun filtering down from the uppermost branches to cast lattice-like shadows over her creations.

"Truthfully, you detestable son of a hag," Her voice was surprisingly casual, a sharp contrast to her words, "I'm exhausted from guarding the King's son from the many cruelties that Helovia has to offer. The child..." She sighed, gaze drifting back to the earth, exhaustion etched into the lines of her body, "He is kind and intelligent, but prone to wandering off alone. I can't quite remember the last time I rested fully."

Another sigh, another glance about her quarters, eyes finally landing upon the amber of Graasvoel's, "I would apologize for the mess, but I'm not exactly sorry. If you like, I have a small store of sweetgrass from the Heavenly Meadows in the hollow of that trunk - you can help yourself."