Whatever hesitation clinging to Lace’s webbed features dissipated into one of gratitude, and Cera gave a soft laugh and a smile in return. "You are very welcome. It will be a joy to craft beside you, brother," he declared, eyes glittering with silent invitation into the fold of Cera’s family, both intimate and herd-wide. A title given freely but sincerely, an effort to show Lace that Cera saw him as more than a way to follow the silent orders of the God of the Sun. Only flickering in his undivided attention when Fajira landed, interest flickering briefly before Lace began to speak once more, introducing her; she was truly magnificent, and Ilaria’s interest was nearly as strong as his own, reminding him that he had his own introductions to make. Gesturing over his shoulder towards the intrigued bear-creature, Ilaria gave a chitter of greeting. “This is Ilaria, my companion.” But there was to be no other conversation on that topic, for the rustle of wings and the approach of his Sultana was definitely more concerning.

They know each other? Ilaria cooed in his mind, only garnering a similarly dumbstruck shrug from her princeling. He wasn’t fully involved in his Sultana’s life, and would not pry, for privacy was dear to him having been raised as Midas’ son and constantly thrown by proxy under the spotlight alongside the painted general. But even so, protective instinct was not to be denied, and though he retreated to allow her to be seen as he realized they knew one another, he was reluctant to part from Africa’s side. Call it what you will, but he considered her a dear friend, and Lace was still a new face. Yet her broad smile was answer enough that he had not insulted her with his protectiveness, and his own boyish grin emerged at the sight. "No thanks needed," he assured softly, wings shuffling with contentment as he saw her strength return, slipping away to a respectful stance beside her instead of between the two, reassured once more.

Uncomfortable suddenly, he slipped into silence and watched as they conversed, feeling like an outsider in his own home. How little did he know of that home? Shame budded in his chest, for though it was no fault of his own, he barely knew any of the kin he’d die for. He felt young and clumsy in the presence of his elegant Sultana and the gentlemanly, well-worded Lace. Felt as if they would soon turn to him and shy him away as Midas often had when he was a foal, claiming it was ‘a subject for adults’. But he had enough of standing in his father’s shadow. Midas had left them, why was it his shadow still lingered over Cera’s form?

Not one to ignore the beckoning of his Sultana, no matter how consumed in thought he may be, the youth turned and let gratitude shine in his eyes as he reached to amiably bump his nose against the proffered one. In silence he shortened his stride to match that of Africa as they traveled, only recovering his surety when he realized Lace truly had no idea what they would be crafting, and though he was no Forger they simply didn’t have one at the time. That left Cera the only soul with a crafting ability to direct the grullo.

Turning to look over his shoulder with a smile, he beckoned the grullo forward with a motion of one wing. "We’re planning a well and an extensive irrigation system, so that trips like this are not required, and the extended TallSun of seasons past can be avoided since we lack abundant water as it is. I would highly appreciate your help in both areas, Lace," kind green eyes proved the sincerity of the informative statement, for though Cera had been prepared to shoulder the task in solitude, having even a single crafter- magically aided or not- would do wonders in lifting the burden’s weight.