Cradled between the two bodies of his friends, Cera had hardly paid any attention to the words Gaucho had spoken. Useless, empty words. As hollow when it rang as any the world tried to give him in consolation for a loss he felt he could never recover from. So as they had dispersed, Gaucho's voice quiet and their dismissal apparent, Cera had turned and pressed his muzzle to the shoulder of both Hector and Megaera. His eyes did all the talking for a voice that was too choked to work. Thank you. Their smiles had been enough to force a shaky breath into his reluctant lungs, given him the strength to move forth into the desert, away from the congregation. He had his duties, as did the rest. Work, at least, would keep his mind off...everything.

Except a familiar form was moving to intercept him, dainty and beautiful as ever. Cera felt guilt wreck what little was left of him that wasn't subdued in forced numbness. How long had it been since he had seen the beautiful maiden? He felt as if he had abandoned her, as effectively as he had Amani. Was that why he was such a failure? Because he followed in his father's footsteps? Nonetheless, he owed her his company for that if nothing else, and so the painted boy moved to reach her in tandem.

Her voice washed over him as they came ever closer to one another, her scent familiar in his nares. A soft hello was spoken over his shoulder, and Ilaria made a soft chittering noise in response, warm brown eyes regarding Sikeax lovingly. She adored the girl, and hoped that perhaps the blue-spotted youth could pull her Prince from the depths of his agony. But even she had little faith in that regard. It would take quite some time, and a lot of effort from those who loved him, for Cera to really heal.

For a second he basked in his name, spoken in her soft tone. And then, like flame eating away at a tender leave, he curled in and shriveled away beneath the weight of her questions, simplistic though they were. His eyes were moist, breathing ragged, within moments at the mere idea of telling her the truth.

"No...no, Sia I'm...I'm not okay," he managed to choke out, his wings trembling with the force of his agony. "My brother...Hototo. He was killed trying to stop Gaucho. He was...he was all I had left, Sia," was whispered, and like a broken dam that had been too weak to begin with, he broke. The tears streamed down his face like twin rivers, and the mere effort it took to lift his eyes to her face seemed to exhaust him. "My father left me for the will of a God. My sister thought me a liar, a danger to her son, and we have yet to reconcile. And now...now I have lost my brother, when I had just found him." His frail chest shook beneath the weight of his silent sobs, shoulders drooping like broken wings from his nape, hunched beneath the awareness of his loss.