Whether it's weak or not, it lifts the burden on Cera's heart to see her smile. He wishes he could lift the curl of her lips more frequently, and though he won't cease trying, he still desired to have the ability to make her sincerely smile. She deserved the freedom that came with such a simplistic action, one so many took for granted. One Cera replicated in that moment as he hugged her close, laughing softly against her skin. "You don't need wings to be an angel, Rasta. There are angels on earth, remember? You are surely on earth, and most definitely an angel." There is a sincerity and a stubbornness in Cera's voice, because she will never convince him that she is not in some way an angel. Nobody ever will. She is too pure and kind to be anything else, and he would treat her as one for every moment of his life.

Panting breaths cause worry to crease his brow, but he does not let her see such a concerned expression painting his features. It would only hurt her more to know she was worrying him, if the prior points of their conversation were anything to go by. Ilaria cooes at her, trying to comfort her in the only way she could. There are no words for her to share with Rasta, but her eyes are soulful and caring, concerned for the mare just as strongly as her bonded. In the quiet of the oasis, of which Cera is thankful for it is generally quite crowded, Rasta gives a sob of a laugh and speaks. "You need not ever ask me, Rasta. I would, and will, do so of my own volition. You are too kind to ever ask, and I will never await it of you." Whether or not Rasta desired his kindness he would extend it to her, for she had always done so for him. Cera would repay her in the grandest of way, for she was more deserving of it than he could ever be.

"I will find a way, sister. Perhaps I cannot hear your voice over the distances, but I will ensure your cry never goes unheard. It will take time...but I will do whatever it takes." Maybe he could ask the Gods for an item for the two of them to share, of which she could beckon him with? The magic did not exist in his body to create such a thing, and willpower only went so far. If he had the ability to hear her cries from any distance he would use it, but he was at the mercy of believability until some sort of magic was gifted upon the pair. But he did have something he could give her, no matter how small.

"Hold still for a second," he whispered. Closing his eyes he reached into the sands for the metals that lay scattered below, drawing them up and into position, molding them together even as it sapped at his reserves with every moment he took perfecting the item. Cera could have left it in the vaguest of shapes but he refused to give such a shoddy item to the angelic mare, and instead spent his energy detailing every piece he could hope to. It was small, but it was beautiful, and when it was done it gleamed a subdued silver. Nickel was one of the more common metals, and he had shaped the tiara out of it for Rasta.

It was a bird, a hawk to be precise, with a small band to go round her ears and holes in the band for whatever she wished to loop through it. The bird had wings outstretched, and would spread across her forehead from wingtip to wingtip, base of each ear where they would touch. Lifting it with careful lips he settled it upon her head, securing it as gently as he could around her ears before lifting himself away with a smile. "I know you might object to it, but I want you to have this. It's a hawk, and you can put anything you want in the band. I may not have a way to call me, but I can give you something to remember me by if you ever feel lonely." It was the best Cera could offer in that moment.

Her fear trembled through him and he calmed his own panic in order to help her, hugging her to his frame as tightly as he dared. "I will never let you drown, Rasta. We won't even go past your knees, I promise. And you can lay down, it will be very shallow, and I'll be right there okay? But you need to cool down." As gently as he could he began to move, pushing and grasping at her with his own body to help lift her from the sand and support as much of her weight as he could, urging her with gentle crooning words towards the water.