The last thing the gargoyle wants, then, is to be harassed by a persistent and pestilent elephant when she is trying to relax away from her boring-ass lessons. She recognises the grey-skinned irritant as belonging to Tembovu, and judging by the animal's determination, her dear king wants to see her. "But what if I don't want to see him?" she snarks at the elephant, who doesn't seem to particularly care about her target's protestations. Ker rears high on Oizys' withers and flares her wings at the stunted grey creature, serenading it with shrieks and bellows of birdlike menace. Somehow, though, the filly doesn't think that is going to deter Mbwene from her seemingly iron-cast determination to bring her to her master.

Eventually, Oizys relents. With a snort of disgust, she stomps after the elephant, being sure to make as much noise as physically possible in order to broadcast her displeasure. Her ears are flat to her head and her mouth is twisted in an ugly snarl, which only increases the brutal hideousness of her rippling facial scars.

They find Tembovu stood in front of a glass dragon, whom Ker gives another barrage of frightened squawks before she realises it's not alive and liable to eat her. Oizys hisses her disgust at her bird's cowardice, before allowing her attention to drift from the dragon towards her King. "Wow, a giant-ass glass dragon...are you compensating for something, big fella?" Her gaze, as innuendo-laden and salacious as her mother's, chances a cheeky glance downwards with a quirk of her brow. No doubt her dam would have an aneurysm at the lack of respect that glows resplendent in her daughter's voice, but when has Oizys ever had any fucks to spare for what other people think of her?

As expected, the Elephant King wishes to discuss the lessons that Oizys was subjected to during Orangemoon's seemingly endless span. She thinks wryly of her first lesson, how eventful it had been, to say the least. "I learned that it's possible to sleep with my eyes open," she says, sickly sweet, with a wicked simper evident upon her muzzle. The remainder of her lessons had been as boring as balls, and she'd spent most of them yawning pointedly. It hadn't worked, though. "I also learned never to eat anything a healer gives you if you're not sure what it is, because they're a devious bunch of bitches masquerading under the illusion of altruistic fix-your-booboos sweetness." Her muzzle shrivels and a shudder of disgust spreads across her body. On her back, Ker stifles a beaky chortle; she knows better than to express amusement at her bonded's shit-related humiliation.

"In all seriousness, yeah, I admit they have their uses. Then can stitch you back together, and they can poison anyone you don't like, which is fucking awesome. Overall, though? I stand by what your General said. Every herd needs a good healer, but they shouldn't be leaders. They can fix up our warriors after a fight, they can booby-trap the meals of our opponents, but nothing I've learned convinces me that they have what it takes to rule. A leader needs to be able to fight - if our new Queen can kick ass, then that's great, but I'm willing to bet she can't. People will probably say you don't need two military leaders, but in my eyes every king or queen needs to have at least some battlefield knowledge. Otherwise, what's Queenie going to do if somebody challenges her for her position? Poke them in the eye with a leaf?" She takes a breath, her cold grey gaze never leaving Tembovu. Unusually, her words don't hold venom or rage - she is simply stating facts as she sees them, and her opinion. For once, her opinion is backed up by what she's learned, not just what she thinks will offend most. "And if leaders keep changing because they can't defend themselves against challenges, the herd isn't going to have stability." She thinks of Elsa and shudders in disgust; the Icebound is living proof that military leads can suck as well, but overall she thinks the success rate is higher if they can fight.

"So, sorry if you expected me to come out of my lessons as a reformed kid, but my opinion stays the same." The gargoyle looks defiantly up at the large stallion, her gaze firm and her resolve absolute. Childhood stubbornness has developed into Oizys being very dedicated to what she believes in - her own brand of loyalty.