Even the shadow-mare knew that sometimes it was better to poison the mind rather than destroy the body. Sure, she could run the bastard through, it would be so easy, and she could trample the abomination of a foal, too, but that would not be as satisfying as watching their perfect little family fall to perfect little pieces before her eyes. No, in this, the torture was better, and as she watched the scene unfold, her thirst for vengeance upon those inferior to her was sated ever-so-slightly. The jackal resisted the urge to beam at her King, the urge to cackle maniacally as the pair before her confronted their shattered dreams. Instead, she kept her eyes steadily on Delinne, her gaze one of sympathy and friendship. Every now and then, her amber orbs would harden and turn cold as they flicked to the skyrat and back, as though she were angry at him for what he 'did' to Delinne.

Mauja was the epitome of perfection, not even needing magic to make his lies believable. Still, she would have her say, just in case there was any lingering doubt in Delinne's mind. She would help to drive the wedge between the couple, she would destroy their peace. And the foal... well, she would deal with that later. Azzaron screamed at them then, his fury palpable in the air that seemed to blaze around him. The she-demon resisted the urge to laugh, to scoff, to tell him that he was, quite simply, an idiot, not that she was surprised. So many of his kind were. But still she held her tongue, watching, waiting, a look of horror held carefully on her maw as he began to panic.

Mauja had stepped closer to Delinne, almost as though to shoo her away from Azzaron's grasp, to protect her from his fury. Now the Dark Empress, too, moved, placing herself firmly between the now-separated couple. Her eyes sparked dangerously as she considered the brute before her, fully aware that he may choose to lash out at her. Well, she could protect herself, couldn't she? And if she couldn't, she really had no business being the Lady of the Basin, now, did she? "You heard her," she hissed. "You may go, pegasus." She refrained from certain other, more preferable terminology, not wanting to give away their game, though it pained her to do so.

"Your presence is no longer required here. You are upsetting Delinne and the youngling, and quite frankly, I'm sure that we will care for them as you never did." To those around her, she looked fairly relaxed, though wary, fully aware of her position of danger. But her mind ticked steadily, dangerously on, and she was prepared for an attack at any time. On one level, she hoped that he would simply leave, for she had had her fun and was growing weary of him; on another, she desperately wanted him to lash out at her, to give her a reason to murder him where he stood.

"Talk talk talk."