Home is no longer home to the fire child. He had returned as ordered by the new mistresses of the sands he had grown up on. When the meeting had concluded he had gone to search the new boundaries that had wiped away large chunks of their border. But the oasis stood proud, and beside it, the magnolia tree. A shuddering sigh of relief ripped through him, and he moved on hesitant prancers to gaze up at the intertwined branches above him, an intricate lattice of memories. Times curled up with Midas until dawn, when his father had to depart. Most of the memories were bittersweet, for they all held that echo of temporary peace. Because even his past self knew that his father would leave him come morning once more. That he would spend the day wandering about the sands, friendless and lonely, bored for the long hours he had to wait for Midas to return to him at the end of his duties. But if sleeping could be a memory, despite him not being conscious to enjoy it, then he would count those as the good memories. At least Midas was at his side for those. But as he slept beneath those boughs once more, he awoke listless and devoid of emotions he felt he'd lost the moment he'd seen the earth go red with the blood of his father's mirage.

Standing, he awaited for Ilaria to drop from the lowest bough to his shoulders, bracing them for the impact of her body onto his. A few sharp steps were taken before plume bristled, tasting the wind, and he pushed down with all the might his body possessed. Unlike his father, who had strained to rise so abruptly with no running start, Cera was limber and thin in contrast to his father's stout, muscled form. This was what his body was made for. And it embraced the currents above like a willing disciple, thoughts becoming a comforting buzz, worries fading away under the touch of the sky. Instead, he drifted, crossing the border mindlessly, uncaring. Who would miss him? Midas was not there to realize he was gone from home any longer. A twinge ate at his heart and he grit his teeth against it. No. Midas had betrayed and abandoned him. He had cast away the land he had once sworn to never leave without bleeding across the sands in rebellion. All lies. He had turned tail faster than a traitor to claim the crown offered to him. Had he not told Ktulu he didn't want to leave the Throat, even for his love for her? Cera was disgusted by him, even if it hurt to feel such a negative emotion towards his father. Even if he had only been there at dawn and dusk, he was still his father.

So with a shuddering breath, he tilted the curve of his wings, growing paler as the seasons faded, the caramel of his youth disappearing. It was time to visit the Hidden Falls. It wouldn't be hard to find, he had been to the Windtossed Foothills countless times since he'd first met Hototo and Ktulu. A rather far journey, but he was well-rested and anxious to fly, to really feel the sun on his skin and know he was free from the damning confines of the earth below. It takes hours, the sun sliding from place, moving higher and higher. Cera had been an early riser from seasons of awakening with Midas the moment light touched the horizon. Now, he thanked it, for he would arrive near the moment when the sun would peak in the sky. For that moment however, he was content to drift on the currents beneath his wings, dreading the meeting that was sure to come in the near future.

He curled inwards, falling in a controlled spiral to the earth. Milk and honey hooves touched down on the snow, thick and muddy beneath where the wetness had erased the stability of the soil. It was barely a kiss, with how much weight he had lost in the caves, all baby fat completely gone. Even his landings had become graceful, despite how long he'd gone without flight. Taking a deep breath, insides shuddering like leaves in a gale, he began to move onward. But this was not the Foothills. He jolted at the boundaries, skin crawling at the unfamiliar scents, and bit back the habit that told him to cross it. This wasn't his second home anymore. He had to obey the laws now.

Head lifted and his voice rang out, deeper with age but just as honey thick and clover sweet as it had ever been. Ilaria dropped from his shoulder, disappearing into the undergrowth under the careful eye of her prince, dashing off to find Midas should Cera's summons not be heeded or heard. The tall youth folded his wings halfway, feeling edgy and uncomfortable on the edge of a herd that held a literal asylum of crazies. The scar across his chest, the deepest scar hidden beneath his mane where chunks had been taken from his flesh, the spiderwebbed scar down his right flank, the curved one that took up the expanse of his lower left leg. Two battles he had fought, and far more scars had been left upon him. One a fight to live, the other a fight to kill. To triumph. To destroy. And he had come out on top. They itched with a ferocity he had not felt since encountering his first wraith, knowing the insane creatures lying within. Would today be a day to go to war? Or would his father reach him first?

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This is open to ALL so long as Midas posts first! Please don't be intimidated, post at will, but this thread is primarily for Midas and Cera <3 however I know IC, the borders wouldn't be unguarded, so feel free to pop in when you feel the time is right!

@[Midas]