Though the land was vast between he and his father, Cera felt as if the distance between their hearts and minds was ever larger. He fell to silence beneath the weight of Gaucho's words, wondering if the dun worshiped Midas too much to see Cera's side of the story. Midas had already written him off, after all. The man would have nothing to do with him anymore. A failed prodigy, something Cera had striven to never become. It seemed all he'd done was ruin what little good he'd garnered in the world. But even with the possibility of Gaucho siding with his father, the painted boy simply had to try.

"He cannot understand why I'm so angry," was the first whisper that passed his lips, tinged in the emotion he spoke so quietly of. A deep, burning pain that ached raw and open like an endless chasm in his voice. "He refuses to think that he is wrong. If I can see, somewhat, why he did what he did...why can he not do the same for me? How can I forgive him when he thinks it was okay to do such an unforgivable thing?" A contradictory statement, but Cera would overcome that boundary if Midas ever showed him that there was a point in being inclined towards it.

"But Ranjiri and Ryuu...perhaps I can fix that." If that was his only reason for remaining, aside from the stallion at his side, then perhaps that was enough. If only for their sake, Cera would linger in the mortal world until he reconciled with what little family still held the possibility of love for him in their hearts.

Gaucho's firmly stated words pulled him from those musings, and he turned quiet green eyes to the fiery stag that shed his light upon Cera like the lantern that would lead him out of this darkness. The words were so simplistic, something he'd already heard Gaucho say before, and yet they reached down deep into his chest and placed themselves upon his heart. Each word warmed him from the inside, until Cera felt something like relief, if not healing, in the wake of it. "Yes," he whispered, strained and nearly deliriously happy, fearing he would burst into hysterical laughter with the surety of Gaucho's words. "That's why I stayed," he croaked, tears he'd already cried attempting to shed themselves once more. Even when Midas had left, even when it meant he, too, had to give up the only family he'd ever known, Cera had stayed. And Gaucho...he understood.

A lit wing reached to touch his shoulder, a kiss of feathers that was so brief but so welcome that Cera leaned into the mere ghost of it. His tiny laugh was watery and sounded strained through the clutch of his tight throat. "But you have done more in far less time here," Cera pointed out. What had the Prince achieved? Nothing, not really. "Everyone knows your name, knew it even before you were Sultan. How many know me as anything more than Midas' son?" It hurt to know that they came to him only because they knew his title, only returned to his side when they required something. They valued him because he was capable of giving them what they wanted, and nothing more. Nobody cared for the soul that housed the magic of the Sun. At least...nobody but Gaucho it seemed.

@[Gaucho]