Silence enveloped them as they stood apart from one another, gold and black, light and dark. And yet inside, it was the opposite. Their eyes were interlocked, a fragile tension between them as Cera awaited for the youth to finally speak up. It was difficult enough to stand there and look upon the pale accented child, to be reminded so vividly of his brother's death. His murder. But Cera had been called useless, had been told he was worth nothing by the tongue of an immortal. Surely that meant it was true. And so he worked to fix it, mechanical, a machine. Mesec merely had to give him something to process so Cera could spit out an appropriate response.

Another factor added itself moments later, Ilaria nudging him mentally to the massive form descending from the sky. Cera turned his head the barest amount at the sound of hooves on sand, eyes catching on the familiar planes of Hector's face. His heart gave a jolt, recalling how Hector had wordlessly taken mantle at his side during the meeting, given him a wall to lean on. In that moment the massive brute moved forth, muzzle extending to brush Cera's thigh with a tenderness that broke the child's heart. "Hector," he whispered, eyes swimming in gratitude that he could not rightfully speak before a stranger.

A stranger whom clearly decided he was finally going to speak. Cera inclined his head back towards the quiet, awkward boy, pinning him beneath deadened eyes. He did not know this soul, did not care to in that moment. Hector was another matter entirely, Cera was merely doing his job. That was all this was.

At first, it was bearable. Cera nodded respectfully, words rolling on his tongue that he moved to speak, until he offered his condolences. Each word died like ash and hellfire on his tongue, burning up all reason and intention. He flinched as if he had been struck. Nobody had offered him such words, not even Gaucho or Ktulu. Much less his father, who had stood shamefully at the back while he and Ktulu had screamed and sobbed themselves hoarse. For a moment his throat convulsed, not sure whether to thank Mesec or spit out a rain of curses and damnations.

Cera ducked his head, throat working hard in a pathetic sort of noise that he wished to crush into oblivion. He was supposed to be a machine. But the words came nonetheless, from the part of him that was still stubbornly gold and pure and good. "Thank you...I..." his voice choked him, and he cleared it harshly. "He's at peace now," was all he whispered, not entirely confident that Mesec, as he soon introduced himself to be, would actually hear him.

The wavering of his heart was broken by the rather awkward, explosive entrance of their guardian blue. Cera stepped back towards Hector's side, eyes downcast. He smiled, all battery acid and broken shards. "He seeks to join our ranks, Gladiator. I suspect you will take care of him." It was said with as much gentleness as his frigid exterior could afford, and with a quiet, quivering touch of his muzzle to Hector's shoulder, Cera turned and left. Quiet as a ghost.