As the group disbands he glances, only for a moment out of the corner of a red eye, at the little trio that mingles away from them. The scarred stallion and Aela remain together as Cheri breaks away towards some undergrowth. She doesn’t seem perturbed at all by his presence and a spasm of irritation twitches along his withers although his expression remains smooth. Instead of looking at her (how the black of her coat stands out against the brilliant red of the canyon walls and her green seems to fit amongst the lush undergrowth) he turns to Aela. A lingering look that curls at the corner of his lips into something challenging as he wonders if they might explore some of the secret spots Loess has to offer once official business is concluded. The thought seems to ease his annoyance and he pushes both mares from his mind as he turns his full attention back at the one in front of him.

Now it seemed they were getting to the meat of the matter. Oceane had the talent that most experienced rulers had of being able to maintain the fine line of pleasant decorum while getting straight to the point. He arches his neck, a glitter of gold catching amongst the thick strands of black in the awakened morning sun as he listens to her update on a history lesson he had not been aware of. The tensions between the South and the East was not something he had known and he tucks that information to give to Aela later. “The South is not an instigator.” This will become the biggest obstacle (if Aela has anything to say about it). Since he could do nothing but tell the truth (beholden to the limitations of his Faeness) it had become a game to find the words to speak true while not giving away too much. Lying had once been his top skill and now this was his new one, an art form that he enjoyed trying to perfect. He’s not sure how familiar Oceane is with faerie but if Cheri served her (and if she was clever enough to remember his words on that dark stormy night) then she might already know of his inability to lie outright. So he gazes at her directly as if he has nothing to hide. Which he doesn’t, not really.

“I have no issues with the South being as one.” He says with a shrug. It’s true, there was no point in stirring the pot so close to home, especially while they were still filling the ranks. No point upsetting the neighbors, regardless if his Seneschal felt otherwise. He knew the wisdom in that at least. “However my court is one of tricksters and pranksters and they sometimes need more then frivolity and indulgences of the flowers. Harmless pranks.” "Mostly", he thinks with a slight grin. The thought of ambition made something in his soul curl up and die. Maybe it was because he had seen what ruling a full kingdom had done to his parents, maybe because it meant he would have to live up to others expectations and take a hard look at himself as more than a drunken Prince. Aela thought differently however, having enough determination and hunger for the both of them. It wasn’t that he disliked ruling, no he quite enjoyed the title of Prince and putting together his court and all the privilege that came with it. He wasn’t half bad at it either really. The thought of taking over such a large responsibility though (a full kingdom instead of a territory) was rather terrifying and his own sense of worthlessness held him back from whatever true potential he might truly hold. So he let Aela steer most of the course for them but at the end of the day it was he that led the Pampas and if the day came that he had to take the reins out of her hands then he would. The wilted thing in his chest hopes that day will never come.

“Bringing attention to the South doesn’t necessarily mean it’s dangerous or is intended to be so.” He says discreetly as he gazes at the Loessian Queen. “Perhaps if you had a suggestion regarding an outlet for my court, somewhere that might not distress you and your Champion, they can be guided in that direction. I will not stifle my people or keep them from their potential nor would I like to disrupt this harmony the South has found amongst each other.” There was always a middle ground, he remembers from the few lessons he had gotten from his father. It might take some poking and prodding to find it but he’s sure there’s a compromise here. Somewhere. Before he can make a comment on what methods she exactly finds distasteful, she asks him a question that he wasn’t expecting. The grin lingers as he picks up something in that question regarding Sylva. He’s not sure what it is exactly that lays behind her words but he’s sure something important lies in this seemingly nonchalant question.

“I was born in Tephra.” He admits freely as his crimson gaze follows her own before returning back to her. The others at the moment are forgotten, whatever dramatics they’ve gotten up to ignored, as he regards Oceane. “My father had abdicated his crown before I was born but I saw the aftermath of what it had cost him. I’ve taken a different approach then he, one where I work smarter and not harder.” Of course he had taken the Pampas on a whim, had seen it empty and simply took it because it was easy. Simple. His words reflect that without saying as much. He had no desire to return to the ash-lands, had no desire to go anywhere in particular after growing up in the common meadow after his parent’s disappearance. It had truly only been out of spite from the silence he found on the Mountain summit that had led to his whirlwind swoop of the Pampas. “I suppose I was just drawn to what lay among the flowers.” He says with a small smile (for it’s not a lie either) as he prepares to answer the question she really was interested in.

“Before my ascension I had a… run in with Sabra. She convinced me to visit Sylva and all it holds. I chose to strike out on my own despite her kind offer.” Here his vermillion gaze seems to glitter darkly as the red of his eyes becomes something harder. He had not liked the way she had managed to pry things from him that would usually be kept hidden, had managed to loosen his tongue with those hypnotic eyes. Different to the images that Aela could slip into his mind, Sabra's abilities were much more invasive. He still couldn't remember even agreeing to visit Sylva in the first place or how they had gotten there and that prickled at his insides more than anything else. Who knows what else she could "convince" someone to do. That had also happened when he could still lie. Now, well now Sabra was even more dangerous (more than he even realized) when he had no choice but to speak the truth. “I’ve found I like to be on the right side of her stick.” He smirks slightly but he is careful here as he tilts his own golden flecked face back to her. Because he’s curious. Curious to where this could be going and he has some questions of his own for the Southern Queen. With a slightly raised brow he says quietly, “I’m surprised that you two exist so peacefully considering her methods.”

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