we are one in the same
you take all of the pain away

Alleo was a name that Cera was a mere stranger to, though it had been spoken in passing before from Rasta's lips. Cera assumed that he was some sort of...lover? Mate? Perhaps it was presumptuous of him, for Cera had never experienced romantic attraction, wasn't aware of the fact that it was supposedly normal. His father had never loved a woman, at least...not where Cera was privy to that information. Whatever bitterness he would summon in the future would have no hold, when he would eventually discover the fate of that mare. Ranjiri had never spoken to him of Roskuld, nor her feelings towards the demigod. Hototo had gotten tongue tied around every single female he'd happened across, and Cera? Cera...he had lived in the sand, alone in his loyalty, constant and unwavering. Solitary. Isolated. How could he have ever learned of love, like that?

"Blood does not always constitute family," Cera murmured quietly as she spoke disparagingly. "I have none. I never have. But I've made one, and it is all I can lean on," he murmured, lips smiling in encouragement but eyes shadowed with a truth he was not ready to admit to her yet. "But it's honorable, that you would sacrifice that for him." Without knowing the stallion nor his relationship with Rasta, Cera had no other words that he could conjure to try and impose a better feeling about the situation onto the blind beauty before him.

Hearing his father's name on her lips was...odd. Uncomfortable. Cera bore it quietly, listening as attentively as he always had, as he'd been raised to. By the very man Rasta spoke of. It was odd to hear him idolized, someone breathing his name in rapture and soft, sighing syllables. They did not know the man's flaws, inherent as they were to his soul - no matter if the Gods had immortalized it. Cera could not help the snort that escaped him however when she spoke of the status she wanted but did not pursue. "And what of I, Rasta? My supposed kin, do you think they know my name? Who I am? I have been alone all my life, but I serve them because I love them nonetheless. And even if I did not, I would still give. It is what I love doing. It is what I was made to do. If you have that passion, then pursue it. Purpose is better than nothing, whether you serve those you love or not," he trailed off, wondering if she'd despise him for his somewhat rebuking passion.

His emotions were off the rails of late.

Cera bared his teeth at Ilaria for the tell when Rasta quickly caught on to the lie, cottoning on with remarkable speed for a blind mare. "I understand," he murmured quietly, properly chastised. He had never learned how to rely on others, from birth he'd always been standing on his own. Independent against his own desires. "My father abandoned me to lead a new herd, a new family. My sister returned to me with an adopted son, who recently has disappeared without a trace, and she is avoiding me completely. But, I'm great. Really." Cera swallowed whatever other words he had intended to say, for his voice had been brittle and bitter as it had all come rushing out - at least, before he'd stopped himself. Kicking idly at the sand, Cera refused to lift his eyes to Rasta's - not that she could see him, but it would inspire his guilt nonetheless. "I've had worse," he scoffed quietly, offhand. His scars seemed to throb in sadistic assent, and with that the Prince fell silent.