Cassiopeia was warmed by the king's ability to contend with her daughter's youthful shenanigans. Perhaps he had foals of his own, she resolved, or maybe he simply had a soft spot for those with the exuberant tonic that was characteristic of youth.

She supposed even a racist could have certain fragility toward those of fewer years, even if the contender was of a different race. She also found herself speculative if he truly was a bigot, or if he just preferred the company of his own species. The latter was true for herself, and she fleetingly felt a bit hypocritical. She had no misgivings toward the other species - quite the contrary, actually. She simply enjoyed the institution involved in being united with those of your own kind. Still, it would be devoid of good sense to abolish such suspicions. She didn't give it much thought, however. It could wait.

With the ivory stallion's addressing of Cirrus as a little girl, Cassiopeia immediately flicked an ear toward the sky-hued flicka. She knew all too well her disdain for being dubbed as such, despite the suitability such an adjective occupied - at least in physical stature. She was certainly bigger in her indocile, independent nature than her mere countenance might imply. She understood her vernal qualms, however. Who didn't go through such a stage in their life when they couldn't wait to be grown and 'big' like those around them? The roan dame certainly went through such a stage. She too had yearned for independence, to be grown and listened to. As soon as such a prospect become reality, she found herself desiring the careless abandon of youth.

She was surprised by the belle's next gesture, hoisting her head out of the way of her already imposing wings - at least they were such compared to other pegasi her age. Cassiopeia was rarely displeased by the filly's behavior, but in the presence of this imperious stallion she couldn't help but feel a vague apologetic contrivance seize her features as she watched the spotted unicorn. "That's enough, Cirrus." She said gently, velvety nostrils pressing against her cerulean hide in an attempt to solvent her.

She then turned her attention once again to the horned stallion, smiling with the mention of her lover. Soon after Cirrus seemed entranced by something upon Mauja's hide. The roan mare observed her curiously as she craned her neck forward, her diminutive dial of a muzzle outstretched as if seeking to touch his livid flesh. Humorously curious as to the antics of her daughter, she furrowed a brow in affectionate scrutiny, a crooked smile evinced upon her lips. Just as she was about to chastise her for not respecting his personal space, Cirrus seemed to go into a fit of rebellion. Cassiopeia couldn't help but giggle as she exclaimed something about not wanting spots, as if such markings were contagious. She wondered how Mauja would react to her contingency.

She pivoted toward her, touching her maw against the belle's petite shoulder, trying to assure her that her coat would not soon be speckled with any such flecks. "Calm down, little cloud." She only used the fond, motherly moniker when trying to sedate the somewhat sovereign fille. "You don't have spots, I promise." She managed to veil the majority of her harmless amusement, though some amount still leaked through her lulling tone of voice. Mauja might be able to detect it, though she doubted Cirrus would. The last thing she wanted to do was give her a reason to feel patronized.