Cera
_{How long will you play this game? Will you fight or will you walk away?}

Bored.

It isn’t often that the youth is in such a state, but with no job and little to do- especially with Midas on constant edge in the silver-lit darkness and banning him from leaving- Cera was caught in a web of nearly depressing idleness. Ilaria was of little help, just as bored as he was and far too different from him to deal with his sighing and whining. So, despite his lack of a title or specific job, he’d taken to patrolling the borders from high above, eagle eyes catching every cranny down below as he sped comfortably over the borders in the false lighting overhead. Paling wings glowed under the pinprick stars in velvet backdrop, saturated canvas similar as he turned into a haloed figure of ivory and light cream under his land’s sister God. As much as he revered the Gods in general, Cera couldn’t help but wish the others would return, that the sun would touch the horizon once more and bathe them in its lovely glow.

Nothing unusual has been happening inside the reaches of the sandy land, not that the youth was aware of at least. It seemed as if everything and everyone in Helovia hung on a string, waiting for a tidal wave, a breaking point, something to snap or cut the delicate crimson string that seemed to spiderweb through all creatures living on the peninsula. So of course, the yearling wasn’t anticipating anything odd to appear on the borders, moonlight glowing on the metal of the half-created wall, silent aside the buffeting of his wings and the soft cadence of his breaths. Despite this, Fate seemed keen on surprising him, or perhaps Lady Karma was playing her hand in his life again. Maybe it was the one who fell beneath his gaze who was given that nameless celestial guidance, maybe he’d been drawn out into the air in order to find the prone form limp upon the bloody sand and clay below him.

Whoever it is, they glow like snow upon the dark ground below, flakes that never touch down in the Dragon’s Touch even in the harshest of Frostfalls. With no movement forthcoming as he circles uncertainly above, Cera’s brow drew together in concern, and he folded his wings and fell from the sky towards the unfamiliar form. There were few in the Throat Cera did not or could not recognize, only another reason to pull the frown upon his lips lower. His worry sped his fall, and he landed with a harsh clash against the sand, a cloud of particles following his descent. Rushing to the side of the unconscious girl, appearing around his age, he folded his wings and dropped to his knees beside her, pressing his muzzle against her form in various places. Once he assured she was breathing steadily, and her heart rate was not too slow or too fast, he anxiously looked around. What could he do?

Ilaria was able to heal small cuts and scrapes, but her magic had gone absent when the Gods had vanished too, and her frustration and desire to help was obvious. The first thought in his head was to get Onni. She’d healed him when his chest had been gaping and pouring blood, poisoned, and she’d become very dear to him. Ilaria leapt from his shoulders to the ground, running off into the darkness while Cera tilted his crown and sang out for her. If she was asleep, Ilaria would most likely find her, and if not, then Cera would call her back once he spotted Onni coming to his desperate summons. Frowning, he draped a wing over the filly awkwardly, making sure not to fully touch her frame, shielding her from the cold without intruding upon personal space that she could not technically defend in her current state. He remained there, a silent stone guardian with an expression of worry as he waited for the one he'd called for to come and help him and the girl beneath his wing.