The cherub was already stumbling clumsily through the water before his nervousness could choke and strangle the joy from his lungs, water clinging cold and eager against his skin as luxuriant eyes caught glimpses of one another in some wide-eyed silent introduction. Ilaria’s presence tore the stranger’s eyes from his, and Cera’s breath left him in an embarrassed rush. Has my loneliness not eased, even after all this time, that you would try to do this to me once more? It was asked softly, sincerely, and Ilaria’s only response was an undulating wave of sympathy and sad admission to the truth he’d known lay within her before he’d put words to the question. At least the stranger could not see the flash within the depths of his optics, too enamored with Ilaria and the way she cut through the water, familiar and easy despite her diminutive form. Slicing apart the awkwardness of the two males’ encounter with her presence as easily as her body cut through the water.
 
Of course Ilaria was won over instantaneously by the warm adoration, appealing to the vanity she denied owning. Cera stood half in the water, feeling out of place, crushingly and pitifully hopeful. Though the words were soft, they were audible over the bubble of the river, even if they were meant for Ilaria. The panda preened, happily letting the river carry her over to Tilney, trying to bump into him like a boat against a cargo ship, anchor herself with a soft paw patting at the swell of his shoulder and a thick bushy tail trying to tickle up against his belly. You’re a terrible, greedy beast, Cera chided, only for Ilaria to chitter at him in a way he knew was purposefully smug. When Tilney whispered to her, as so few did to companions, Ilaria’s big amber eyes flitted intelligently to find eyes so like her Prince’s. She chittered and squeaked softly, knowing he could not understand her but intent on showing him that she understood him, and was quite endeared by the compliment.
 
“She says thank you,” Cera translated softly, not wanting to break whatever communion the two were engaging in. “And truly you’ve likely won her over for life,” was admitted on an effervescent laugh, eyes asparkle with mischievous joy. “She can be quite vain.” Ilaria of course slapped her tail through the water and chittered at him, though Tilney was luckily not subjected to her rather colorful, pointed language through their bond. Which of course only prolonged Cera’s laughter, to hear it resounding in his head as surely as his own voice. Only underscored by the stag’s eager affirmation, shuffling around in the shallows to edge closer to the waterfall, clearly inviting Cera further into the depths. The cherub obliged, smiling warmly and wading further, wings billowing out across the top of the water like shimmering clouds of gossamer whiteness.
 
“Thank you,” he made sure to remember to say, considering they’d been the ones to interrupt the poor fellow’s bathing and not the other way around. He certainly hadn’t been required to be so friendly, nor invite them in to stay any longer than simple pleasantries would have dictated. It was no hardship to say the words even if they hadn’t been warranted, for Cera was simply pleasant through-and-through.
 
“She’s a red panda,” the cherub clarified when he realized he’d not answered that particular question, not sure if it would mean anything to the stud but offering the knowledge nonetheless. “I’m Cera, and she is Ilaria,” though of course, Tilney may have gathered that from how Cera had shouted it so obnoxiously earlier. The panda herself was quite contenting attempting to somehow climb up Tilney’s smooth belly, her paws completely useless where they were normally adept at climbing. Her frustration would mount in time, but for the moment she was quite amused with this fellow that called her beautiful and regarded her as an equal in conversation.
 
“We’re from the Dragon’s Throat, I’m the head Forger,” was brightly tacked on as Cera waded through the water to find comfortable footing beside Tilney, where he’d vacated the area for Cera’s sake. “What made you desire to be a nurse? Ilaria has the power to heal, I’ve always been fascinated by it. But…well I don’t think I’d be a very good nurse.” There was a faint ghost of insecurity that haunted the words, for he’d certainly felt the inclination to become a nurse over the years. His proficiency for crafting had not kept him from becoming the Diviner, and yet…he had never pursued the healing arts. Ilaria made a soft sound of grief, momentarily distracted, but only directed her eyes at the painted boy from where she was happily swimming near Tilney. You still could, if you wanted to. Cera’s eyes flicked unbidden down to the ever-gruesome scar on his chest – blackened and spiderwebbed with the poison that had been laced upon d’Artagnan’s horn. I wouldn’t be a model example of how to keep yourself from injury. I couldn’t save Midas, or anybody else. I won’t do it. She went quiet, waiting until Cera gathered himself from his brief moment of introversion to take her eyes off him. Cera in turn smiled and twisted attentive, sincere face towards Tilney to obtain his answer properly. 

Sorry for the wait! Off absent now