Though Ampere likely did not have many admirers, she'd gained one oddly enough through physical harassment. Cera was a loving creature at heart, withered and broken though it had been, bitter with resentment and abandonment by the time Ampere had chased him down and made him plead uncle. Oddly enough, formidable opponent though she was, Cera had never actually felt fear when they'd fought. Somehow, despite her venomous words and gruff attitude, the message had been received. They were family, no matter how little they saw of each other, how little they knew of one another. And when he'd limped away, their shared blood staining the sand for the meager hours until the tide washed it away, he had burned. With rage, with despair, with confusion. Only when he had woken the next morning did he realize that those flames had burned away the husk of who he had been, and he had finally stepped up to the mantle he deserved, the Golden Prince at last.

Cera had felt as if the name bestowed upon him by the others of the sands was unfitting, humble and shy in the face of their adoration and respect. Yet he finally felt as if maybe he could be worthy of the moniker, if not right in that moment. So he had set out on eager hoof, head tilted high and feeling as if the entire world had disappeared from his shoulders overnight. There were still endless wraiths that hounded him, but he felt as if the sun had finally been renewed inside his soul where it belonged.

Where once flying had been a punishment, a way to make his limbs and body sore, it had finally been reclaimed as what Cera lived for. What he loved, what he was born for. And it was from his vantage point that the beautiful blue who had unwittingly saved his life fell beneath his gaze, seemingly radiant to him. He dipped without the notion that she may not want him there, alighting mere strides from Bucephalus with an ease that only came from his slight frame and minimal weight.

"Ampere," he greeted warmly, radiating from the inside out, a mini sun in his own right. He hoped she saw it, recognized the achievement as hers. He would not thank her with Bucephalus nearby, if only for her sake. It was a private matter, and as such deserved further privacy in the future. Only when he glanced around did he notice the chunk of metal, and already the itch started up in his veins, the need to take the shapeless thing and make it something beautiful, something useful. "Well you've two crafters at your side, should you need us," Cera said pleasantly, eyes alight with the passion that had always driven him down the path of craft and creation.