The short glimpse of silence between them was only marred by the passing sounds of the world around them and magnified the flustered attempt of the large cat's claws seeking purchase on tender - or perhaps loose, judging by the disconcerting noise afflicted - tree bark. It was hand in hand with the take off of what he could only suppose was the disgruntled, and more than likely offended bird that had been disturbed by the feline's poor attempt. He had to repress the slight sigh that threatened to linger upon his lips as his stare idly tilted to take in the flutter of darkened wings as they hastily made way through the canopy over head.

“A pleasure to meet you as well, Mister Theodred.” came her distant chime of delicate voice. The avian dispersed into the cloak of shadow and leaves, becoming one with the soft teetering of the limbs dancing within the sweetly rolling breeze. An atmosphere, a benign peace that did not fit the savagery that it contained and sustained. A jungle of steel and industry with predators just as deadly and cunning as any tiger or bear. Malice and dissatisfaction being their fuel rather than just pure and simple necessity.  “You’ve a strong name, I think.” Her comment would draw his attention once again back to her, his temporary companion.

A thoughtful hum would leave him, "Avarice would be the stronger of the two," he mused aloud. "What men and women are driven by it to do is rather... astounding if you were to ask me. Lavalles revolves around it. Always they need more." He shook his head slightly, the lengthy exhale from prior worming its way from his lips alas. Though for one named after such a grievous sin, she was surprisingly generous, at least within his opinion. Perhaps it was the differences between he and the world at large. He had a plenty of crescents, more than he would ever deign to spend on his own, therefor his motives were hardly driven by the hunger for more. He was no gluttonous dragon eagerly seeking more to line his dungeons with. No, he supposed his own had was guided by the want of thrill, or something to spark that sensation once more. To feel alive. To feel the looming threat of death creeping down the nape of his neck. A sensation long since forgotten.

“Osmanthus seems to be quite the character.” His brows would knit, his expression tinged with a slight edge of incredulous at the mention of the poor hunter once again. While he had his uses, being used to instill grace and tranquility - with the exception of a nap, perchance - was far from those of other familiars he had encountered previously. In truth, he hadn't known what to expect from the binding, something regal or eye catching, maybe, but alas they had eluded him. Unlike the vicious fae and her slim Sphinx that often perched itself upon her lap at council meetings. The thing's eyes alone could be sharp enough to draw blood, its affixed severity unnerving in its consuming glower. That may have been the imagery he had portrayed in his mind, but rather.... unfortunate. “Does he ever bring anything back to you?” The inquiry, the notion knowing the lazy thing, caused a slight chuckle of dark, rumbling laughter to bleed from him as he better turned his head to fix his stare upon her. "He sleeps with the rats he's meant to catch and runs from anything much bigger. If it came to his killer instinct -" another chuckle " - he would starve to death within a few days. Spoiled thing."

It would not take long, at his normal pace, to reach the split in the road that she spoke of. However, weither it was the slow and relaxed tempo of uneven hoof beats, Neph's solitary ones mingling with those elongated strides of the larger Fresian, or the presence of company that seemed to tarry his schedule was outside his train of thought. In truth, it was a nice change of pace, something outside his normal regime. While the admittance wouldn't fall easily, or if the notion had even trespassed rationally into his musings to begin with was unheard of. Even that strange and eccentric vampire he ran into on occasion within the dark alleys of Lavalles provided a brief distraction to the bitterness of unending march of eternity.

“Could that also be considered a weakness too?” The cusp of her demure speech reached him easily, and he allowed his head to lilt in a slight nod. "Naturally." The agreement was easy to come. He had seen it time and time again, even in the face of their victory against Dunmeath, greed gripped ever so tightly to the dregs of thought within those weary soldiers. So quick and impatient they were to gloat and revel in the spoils they beheld as their own to take as they deemed fit. The waste of life, of resource. The haphazard growth of vampiric numbers unchecked and exploited by careless endeavors. Fledglings chillingly crushed and hunted when their wings sought to spread beyond the nest that no longer sought to fulfill their needs. Ever more hands tilled the lands and filled the silos within the rolling fields of gilded Anderstel. Still yet more were denied that tempestuous and poison tainted taste of freedom once shackles were woefully placed. Always more. More cry the people of Lavalles. More cry the aristocrats of Lavalles. More cried the Red Queen of Lavalles. To fill a void that was unending and bottomless. That could never be satisfied. Yet greed held no sense within them anymore. Thought and planning were tactics reserved only for their next campaign, a war just as unending as their gluttonous eyes.

“Being blinded by greed, I mean.” He heard her move, the way her delicate skin and clothing glissaded against the leathers and padding of the saddle. A reminder brought by instinct and he would adjust his hands upon the reigns with placating ease. An unnecessary evil currently easy to dissuade, but one that would ever grow and flourish until satiation bloomed upon his tongue. “Though I am with partial ignorance of such matters admittingly.” He allowed his crown to turn in denial. "No, you are entirely correct." The edges of his lips turned slightly upwards, the expression demure despite the implications that swam just within the prison of his cerebrum. "In truth, I cannot wait for the day. I feel things will... finally become interesting again." Civility. Peace. Domination. They all became so inherently boring after awhile. Another echo of humanity. The reason why no peace could ever truly last. Greed and boredom will eventually always force those around them to succumb to the primal need for violence.

“His attempts are rather admirable.” He would glance in the direction of the feline, one who now followed after the dark steed after his failed ambush. It wasn't until he would again throw himself at the back of the saddle that the vampire would offer him the slight consolation of a soft head pat for his failure. Earning him a vocal and purr of excitement from the little beast. "They are certainly something." Offense colored the cat's glower as he irritably twitched the lengthy span of his tail, curling once more into his own section of the seat. “Though I suppose the spoiled life for a cat is the best kind.” "Again, I'm forced to agree with you. He is quite the little lordling in his own right."

“What is it that you find interesting from the mundane if I may ask?” Her inquiry was posed, one he had asked himself many a time. What did pique his interest any longer? Nothing, seemed the answer apparent. Things he had stumbled across, uncovered, discovered. Acts he had committed. He could still recall the bitterness that had last plagued him, though even that was a far and distant dream, one eroded by the ever pressing march of time. Just like the memories of his home land, of mortality. It was the lack of control that spurned him the most afterward. It was the lapse of judgement where only feral instinct had reigned supreme and he had acted without thought of repercussion. It was his own stubborn nature and unbending will that had condemned him down that damned path. The knowing that he did not need to heed the call of the demented who had so endearingly called himself a father. A fledgling. Nothing more than a mere child in the eyes of his superiors and his creator. A fancy he could not understand the man had taken in him. Madness had been rampant within him. Memoirs so far away from the surface in recent events that they had become unclear and foggy. Only one thing he recollected with clarity of the tormented now: the myriad of times he had mentioned the uncanny likeness between Theodred and his own mortal son. A young man he had seemingly murdered in his haze of bloodlust upon his own turning. Preservation. To keep him pristine and immaculately frozen in time like the child he had lost. The cuffs of silver. A prison of pure and unadulterated anguish.

Even they stirred nothing now. All this time later. Despite the willingness of those festering wounds to heal, they spurned him no longer. "I don't know anymore." He answered, his words truthful despite their pause. He had thought conquest, the thrill of life or death would have been enough. He had no wish to perish - at least not without proper combat exchanged. He didn't seek to continue the monotonous existence in the same breath however. He did not intentionally seek out something to change his mind, and yet he welcomed it. Like the anticipation of a known word dancing along the tip of his tongue and yet being unable to formulate it. he no longer teetered upon the expectant cusp, but he could remember a time he did. When he struggled. When he beheld challenge in things. "What about you, Miss Avarice? What do you find exciting?" Was it her steed's antics? Her playful whims and the wanderings that came with it? Was it meeting strangers? Perhaps the thrill of danger itself? A seeker of that high? Regardless, she donned the same rather mute expression through it all - a feat he had picked up upon but found no oddity in at first. It was something like looking into a broken mirror, however. Strange.

“The bond between you two must be as strong as you and your horses’?” Her attention lingered on the large feline, one who steadfastly stared back at her, though his gaze was hooded and lazy now as he blinked with the promise of sleeping soon enough. "I have raised Nefarim since he was a colt. I find animals much more appealing than those I would otherwise be forced to keep the company of." A harsh assessment, perhaps, but in truth, the overly indulgent fiends of Lavalles disgusted him. "For the most part, Os chose me himself. He was a starving runt, and I just happened to be the one closest that would feed him. Our first meeting was him trying - and failing - to catch one of the doves pecking at bread crumbs. So I shared a bit of the loaf with him instead and he's followed me ever since." An ode to the feline's failures as a hunter, an entire history he could write upon them.

She liked to ponder the workings of minds, or maybe the very nature of beings. A past time that he himself would partake in regularly. Though it would be unfair to say it was of interest - more or less it was of habit. To asses and prescribe a plan of action in certain events. He was no savante in the art, but he was a firm believer that many gave away their next course of action or response long before they acted or spoke - an invaluable asset to use in his line of work and duty. The feint that could be perceived before it took place would be enough to save ones life. The dance of tongues in political parlay weighed evenly by the faint crease of a brow or the narrow slip of an otherwise cordial tone. While he was not often forced to participate in such menial discussions, it would be a lie to say he didnt study them from his silent seat at the table.

Such discussions were not his forte, as his expertise lay in action.

But he had had a very... very long time to practice this. What had become mundane and normalcy in present day may have been an article of intrigue once upon a time. Maybe it could have been common ground between them, or a topic for discussion, an exchange for conversation, but he would instead simply nod, feeling at odds with himself. With his expectations.

Perhaps many of the mortals had shed trepidation of his kind, an idle, lazy thought that entertained his musings as silver stare would listlessly roll in her direction. His recollections would churn just as slowly to the last run-in with a human he had engaged with. She too had been comfortable, even among the streets of Lavalles itself, no inkling of concern to crinkle her brow even as she'd pricked her finger in the bustling streets. Or perhaps it was lax comfort in the thought that he was - as this young woman mentioned in regards to Os - one with good intentions.

His stare would slide back to the path before them that Nef traveled, one well known and perhaps even memorized by the horse as it was very often traversed. Was he such a being? He supposed in this case he would be. Truly, the knowing swelled within him in full. He could have taken her. Back to Lavalles. Back to Dun. Back in chains and favor for those under his watch. He could have killed her. He could have indulged the burn within the back of his own throat. Yet, instead of these barbaric acts, he had chosen instead the immediate course of playing her escort instead. Curious. An endeavor of a lingering charade of humanity perhaps, habit from a life he had lost so very long ago that he simply reinacted now in a twisted facade. Playing knight. Pretending to be a guard of the people.

His attention was drawn instead to the wobble of the feline as he rose, finding him peering intently at their temporary guest. His teeth chattered softly as the odd chirping belied his interest, his hind quarters swaying before the inevitable leap came in an attempt to land himself within Avarice's saddle instead. His brows would raise slightly in genuine surprise at the action, a thoughtful hum dressing his lack in vocality over the action as he merely hoped the somewhat clumsy act didn't startle the seemingly steady Envy. "It would seem he's taken a liking to you. Perhaps a treat in your pocket? Or a cat of your own at home?" The speculations would emerge from his small bout of silence, accented by the slight rattle of an approaching cart. Seemingly civilian as it traveled by with the ruckus of pots and pans clanging merrily with each bump the wheels rolled over. Maybe someone from her hometown? His eyes drifted over the driver, though the middle aged man avoided his stare and merely nodded his head in stiff, passing acknowledgement. "We're nearing the fork now." He informed, turning the full weight of his attention onto her. "I suppose we should expect more traffic from here."