The monochrome'd fae let out an almost sinister chuckle at her company's choice of words. "A' course I ain't no damn princess. Like I'd ever wanna be subjected t' tha' kinda hell." There was a time where she by all technicality would have been considered a princess, though Maeve never ever saw it that way. It took a special kind of person to take on that sort of claim, and she most certainly wasn't the type. 'Ain't got th' patience f' tha'. More o' a rogue m'self.' she grinned, now didn't that title sound more fitting than orphan? "Whu'ever ya' say, Cap'n."
Maeve watched the man take action, completely pleased with his will to cooperate. Perhaps their little get together wasn't a total waste of her time after all. "So, y' smell anythin'?" She'd tried to catch Celandine's scent herself, but to no avail. Nevertheless, Erebos was older. Maybe his sense of smell was better developed, or something. "She go' a missin' sister right? E..Evy? Been thinkin' maybe wi' all the chaos spoutin' about round the plateau, she went off lookin' fer backup 'r somethin'." That was honestly the most plausible solution the fae could come up with. After all, why else would the princess leave? Especially without her. 'Even tho' I could'a helped.'