From the quiet of the sands she came, a dust devil with the beauty of a desert flower, silent and so full of worry it seemed to crackle like a tangible surge of lightning between the shrinking distance of their bodies. Greeting was understandably strained, a weariness Cera desired to wipe away curling like acrid smoke upon elegant features. His own tired smile lifted pale lips, similarly conflicted at the object before him. War, instruments of such? He had no qualms. Captivity? Eradication of freedom? He found it to be a far more terrifying prospect than any valiantly fought bloodbath.

Touch was accepted, invited even, frame relaxing like a marionette with severed strings as warm breath ghosted over pale flesh. Arched neck in an attempt to press cream kissers against the delicate plane of her forehead. Her hello had yet to be answered. "Hello, Africa," he greeted kindly, smile becoming a bit more genuine with her posing a friendly distraction. One she seemed incapable of commenting on. Grassy eyes softened in sympathy, understanding the conflict that lay within her breast; it lay just as heavy in his. Perhaps more so, as he had been the one to craft the chains despite Africa being the one to give the order. "I know," he whispered, empathy shining in his eyes as he attempted to catch hers, show in those two words that he really did understand why she found it so hard to speak.

Relief grasped frame as she turned to view him plainly, and his smile gave a tentative return. "You're welcome, my friend. It is the least I can do, to spare you more work and trouble." Cera understood well the duties of his Sultana, and desired only to lift the burden from her fragile shoulders as much as he could manage. Soft lyrics drew him back to the horrible contraption between them, and mentally requested Ilaria leave to seek the soft leaves near the Oasis. Lifting wing, the youth grimaced as he harshly ripped a few pale feathers from the flesh, eyes tight but determined. If he had to condemn a creature to slavery, to ownership, he would do so with as much comfort to the wearer as possible. No matter his own expense. Ilaria returned in a timely manner, and together with her careful paws curved the leaves until the ends were nearly touching on the outside. Thin metal hands were conjured and secured with thick pins, the same process conducted with Cera's feathers until a nice soft padding had been created. Eyes lifted to Africa in search of approval or disapproval. "It should be easy, they swing inward for placement and cannot be removed without another hoof to help press it down with considerable weight." Eyeing the newly padded cuffs he tried not to frown and lifted eyes back to Africa, suddenly widening and smile brightening.

"Did you still desire your mortar and pestle? Perhaps I can make it for you now?" Of course the youth would have been far more pleased with a stone creation, but he was confident enough in his abilities to create a serrated, pocketed inside similar to the texture of the stone he desired to have used. It would be a welcome distraction from their shared discomfort of the shackles, at least.