Her heartbroken expression is without reason to him in his lack of understanding, but it causes grief to crawl along his spine and cling to his bones like leeches. There is too much sorrow in the world, too much residing between and upon the pair of them. He had found her, crumpled and broken, used and wasted, in the bowels of the earth where the walls were the only heralds of illuminated comfort. They were broken, the pair of them, but they lived on anyways. Why? Why did they live on? Was it to find others just as shattered, to swap pieces as they constantly tried to glue themselves together, so as to have a piece of someone who understood in the framework of their lives? But he cannot comfort her, not when she is unable to explain to him why she is in such despair. Yet it seems, in the end, there is nothing he has to do but be with her in that moment. For as she looks up to see him standing before her, the agony that pinches her face smooths away, and he smiles at her. Yes, I'm here.

Softly they touch, and Cera's insides shudder almost painfully. In a world of nameless faces and distant words, she is the one who understands him, the one he may call friend when the night is thick and the loneliness attempts to destroy him. She is, perhaps, the only friend he has in the world. Such a cruel and lonely world. But in the end he had her. And that was enough. Enough to move forward, to inhale the next lungful of air, to shift one hoof forward after another, enough to find meaning in living for one more hour, one more sunset, one more blurred week of meaningless encounters. Emeralds are forced to shutter themselves against the onslaught of this sudden train of thought, to seek solace in the whisper-kiss of her muzzle against his. Does not allow himself to close his eyes in grief any longer, knowing she is perceptive and would latch onto his emotions faster than he could craft a lie to explain them away.

It's odd, for her eloquence to be so absent, but in time he has grown accustomed to her unnatural silence. Cera could not, in the end, decide whether he wished upon her silence or blindness. It was an impossible choice. He valued both aspects, even if they came at the cost of the other. Coming alive at her touch, warm and hesitant against the cavern that houses his shy heart, Cera looks upon her sadly. Wishes he could hear her speak just one more time, to commit to memory what he should have when he had the chance. The tilt of her head is evident, a questioning look in her eyes, a crinkle in the corners where concern has kissed her skin. A soft sigh escapes the youth.

"I am alone, Rasta. Father has abandoned what he always called home, to rule you and your kin in these lands. When he had mated Ktulu, Ranjiri and Hototo lived with her. I begged him often to live among them, the family I had made, but he refused to leave the desert. Now...at the whim of a God, he has changed his mind. I am worth less to him than his loyalty to a divine being, Rasta." The words he had been unable to say to Midas ended his quiet, pained speech. Feeling foolish, with how she could not even respond to his woes, he turned his head away and blinked hard to right his emotions. He could not allow himself to be consumed, not after all the work he'd done to ensure he would never be so emotionally volatile again.

"The desert is my home. I cannot leave. The Lord of Light has given me a quest, has saved my life with his magic once before. But in those lands...I am merely Midas' replica, a ghost of his memory. I am unknown. It is..." throat works to swallow around the lump desiring to gather in his throat. Weak, his mind spits at him degradingly. "...hard." He manages to finish, voice too high and undulating for his liking. Eyes cannot meet hers, staring at the earth below, wondering what he had done to deserve all that had fallen down upon his shoulders.