Ziria came back to the camp after some time in the city and rolled her eyes at their erstwhile leader. What the hell the leadership of the company was thinking putting him in charge of this section, she had no idea. Then again, she was here, under his authority, so what the hell was she thinking. Going over to her pegasus, Ziria already knew the answer, not that it changed how much this whole damn stupid situation frustrated her. Besides, she had no clue what she was going to do once she finally jumped ship from the company. She'd agreed to come here, where Aventus was setting up - and doomed to fail - this new branch of the Company, because it was likely an easy place to duck out of the company and back into the rest of he world. She could go a lot of places from here. Maybe somewhere more interesting than this part of the world. Just a handful of city-states, a bunch of empty wildness dotted by the occasional town, and one country of any real note. That was one of the problems with the company not getting enough work. Mercenaries couldn't expect just to get work fighting bandits and shit. They needed war. Even a cursory reading of history made that clear.

"Signs, Aventus? Really? You couldn't have gone for something even less creative?" Ziria started to brush her steed, which whinned softly in response. she didn't really pay any attention to any response from Aventus. Nothing he could say on the subject would be relevant or interesting. As far as she was concerned, he had the intellectual capacity of a small bug. And the imagination to match, clearly.

Ziria, as usual, wore her black riding gear, as well as robes over them. She was rarely seen in other clothes, except when asleep, and depending on the cirumstances - if they were expecting a fight the next day, or there was a chance of a night attack, she would just sleep in that anyway, rather than waste precious time fumbling around for her equipment, The dagger she never used was at her belt - habits drilled into her by the company died hard, its seemed. While it was impractical for a pegasus rider, she kept her black hair long, not willing to conceed a minor vanity she allowed herself. The greater vanity was her application of makeup to make her appear pale - she had indeed been that pale while studying, but her life as a mercenary had ended up leading to more time in the sunlight than she had had before. She didn't just wear the pale-makeup out of some contrary desire to remain pale, though. She wore it because it tended to keep people away, which was just the way she wanted it, by and large.

Eventually, as other things happened around her that she only paid partial attention to, she was done tending to her steeds needs, feeding it an apple.