It was odd how once upon a time, he had been an aimless wanderer of the sands, no job to do and boredom a friend he carried upon his shoulders frequently. There was nothing he missed about that life, aside from one tiny thing; free time. His duties often called him to the bank of the fires to tend to them, his most favored task. Yet it seemed more and more were visiting the Throat, demanding attention and calling for council. Cera didn't mind too terribly, he adored others, but it was still a little overwhelming with all that called for his attention. Still, if it took the weight off the shoulders of his Sultanas, he would do every meet and greet that would ever exist. So even though he was tired from exploring the island with Sikeax, and mostly just wanted to rest his wings and fall asleep, when the clear song drifted over the sands he rose to receive them. Ilaria chittered unhappily at him, clearly convinced the other Council members could take care of it, but he hushed her softly.

Jogging briefly he unfurled his wings, sunlight glinting off pale downy feathers as they embraced the skies, tugging and pulling until the drafts of the higher altitudes took the responsibility of weight-bearing from him. There was no real way of knowing who had called for them, but it was definitely male and by the sounds of it an adult at that. Was it a potential recruit of the Throat? A dull buzz of excitement flooded through his veins, electric, yet dampened by the lethargy of his own body. Instead of running himself down and exhausting himself further attempting to reach the newcomer as quickly as possible, he took his time, drifting quietly on the warm winds that caressed the undersides of his wings. He arrived in a timely manner regardless, dropping in a slow downward curl of pale wings.

Touching down with nary a whisper of hooves on sand, dancing forward until the momentum was spent within his limbs, Cera let a smile warm his face as he approached the stranger. Wings hung tired but respectably tightened at his sides as he paused the advancement of his walkers a respectful distance from the intricately patterned face of the stallion. "Welcome, sir. My name is Cera, Diviner of these lands. How may I help you?" Lyrics are soft and kindly, but they hold the strength that has helped the Throat weather every challenge it has ever faced. He is a soul with many layers, but he greets Lace with warmly glowing emerald irises and a pale face with an easy smile, burying his exhaustion in order to make the stranger feel at home.