Perhaps Veride had grown a second head.
Perhaps her flourishing hair, so vibrant and full of blossoms and blooms, had been set ablaze in a fury of rage and red.
Perhaps she'd become a mortal!
Any and all of these were just as like to be true, when both Neverlie and Erstwhile alike stopped their bickering, as if entranced or shocked by something beyond their kin, and turned to look at Veride with blank, if not speechless expressions. And stare they did, for a time, with naught but the wind and a stray field mouse to break the silence.
...And then both laughed. Vigorously. Heartily. Yet there was always a clear difference between the Fairy King and his closest follower— for where Erstwhile laughed 'with' Veride, Neverlie very pointedly laughed 'at' Veride.
"'Surely it couldn't be any more dangerous than spring.' Never I, Neverlie, shall hear so hilarious a thing! Caw, caw, pipipi!" Impressive, truly— The Fairy of Crows rarely lose her composure, yet Veride had managed it from each possible angle— mirthful laughter and fathomless frustration alike. Erstwhile, in turn, was just as amused— though there was a far clearer innocence in his joy, as he laughed for a different reason.
"The four courts are alike in that regard— Their beauty and their malignity." He explained, both to Neverlie and Veride. "Indeed, we of the Unseelie can be quite a bit... 'too playful' at times. But... having said that, not all of my subjects are quite like me. For instance... many of my subjects only tell lies," He continued, before looking specifically to Neverlie, "While others like to tease and fuss." This, of course, earned him an indignant pout— which he promptly ignored.
"The spider in my garden... might be a little bit of a problem. She very much does enjoy the taste of Spring fae. The more vibrant, the better."