These lands, these people, will never be a possibility for Cera. Tembovu's kindness and intriguing nature, however, was as strong as the temptation of the forbidden fruit. Cera's heart was as gold as the sands of his home, as gold as the title others knew him as. These dark misted woods stood counterpoint to his faith and his family. But nonetheless he found himself desperately curious, some beaten and minuscule part of Cera's soul wondering sinfully what life would be like if he simply...left. Traveled. Explored more than the lands he was assigned on patrol, the endless canyons and rolling hills of sand and clay that he had memorized from birth. If kind creatures like Tembovu existed in Helovia, Cera wanted to meet them. But they felt so separate from him, as if the ocean that surrounded the Throat had cut him off entirely from the rest of the world. 

But it was a blasphemous line of thought. Cera shook his head subtly and tried to be positive, to ignore the temptation aching in his loyal soul. Nothing would change even if he did leave. A forger would replace him. The few who knew him would forget him. The herd he ran to would have a different material to craft, and his life would continue on as always. There was no point wondering or wanting. His place was in the Throat, with the sun and metal. He wondered whether Tembovu had similar curiosities, if that was why he happily remained to watch Cera shape raw metal into a gate. 

"Were you a crafter yourself?" Bright eyes eagerly dart to Tembovu, an inkling of prior knowledge rubbing off from the King's words. So few seemed to appreciate his craft, these days. Even he had lost some of the spark, the beauty of creation that had ensnared him since birth. So much possibility lay before him, and yet so few ever deigned to help him. It ended up taking seasons to even complete a project, singlehandedly as he often did. 

Tembovu's kindness helps redirect his focus. The poles are submerged in the earth, massive things with sturdy hinges. The weaving of the gate between the poles is all that's left, and Cera smiles beatifically at Tembovu's rumbling voice as he begins to bring the center to life. 

"You shouldn't give me such liberties," Cera laughs freely, bold in his joy. Life is too dark not to embrace the little pleasures, and Cera was as sincere in his emotions as in any other facet of life. The metal attached itself to the hinges, and Cera began adding layers and smoothing them together to make the gate thicker and sturdier. 

Suddenly nervous he glanced at Tembovu from the side of his eyes, a hundred questions restless on his tongue. But which to ask first?

"I mean no offense with my question, of course, but..." he shifts around and focuses back on the gate, trying to word it in a way the King wouldn't take as a threat. "Surely you were not born a King. How did you know then, when the time came, that it was time to evolve? To move forward?" Evergreen eyes finally slide back to Tembovu as he idly begins making designs in the metal, lest their conversation end too quickly with the gate essentially complete. 

"How do you differentiate between what your head says, and what your heart desires?" Realizing he is probably coming on far too strong, Cera sighs and turns back to the completed project before him. He doesn't want to leave just yet, doesn't want to abandon all the questions he could ask Tembovu, but gates are simplistic. There is only so much stalling he can do. 

"I've seen so many kings and queens. Good and bad, humble and arrogant...I've watched them ascend and descend like the sun and moon. How do they know? Do they feel inside, the signal that it is time to become something better than what they are?" Grim, he stares at the gate and tries not to see the gold of his father. Midas, the one who had risen from a humble soldier to Sultan of the Throat, and then to Czar of the Falls. Was Cera the only one throwing away his desires for the sake of his herd? Remaining stagnant in his loyalty? Was it perhaps time to be selfish?

With a short laugh Cera shook his head, suddenly embarrassed, and turned a warm smile towards the King. "I'm sorry, I'm not normally so maudlin or intrusive. Crafting always makes me think, and I generally do not have company that could be annoyed by the babbling." Yeah, try and apologize after making the King supremely uncomfortable Cera. Where had his diplomacy and tact disappeared to? Gods, Gaucho was going to kill him. 

Cera blinked at the gate where his mindless designing had apparently taken real shape. The phases of the moon sprang from the smooth surface of the metal in a circular fashion. They were rather large, and Cera stared, a little surprised that he'd managed something so pretty with only half his attention. Smiling in delight, Cera searched the earth for a specific type of metal, an image budding in his mind. Chromium came to him willingly, and he stepped forward to pay closer attentions to the details of the craters and crevices. 

He coated each in a thin layer before finally stepping back. Where the moons protruded, the metal was a beautiful silver that would gleam beneath any natural light. It attracted the eye, the pale moons contrasting with the dark iron of the gate. Turning to Tembovu sheepishly Cera grinned. 

"I hope you like it, I didn't have anything official planned. Details are my favorite." A shy smile broke out on Cera's face, tremulous with nerves. This was the King of the Edge. Cera had never shown anyone aside from Maren the level of detail he could achieve, and now it would be put under scrutiny by a neighboring herd. Nice going Cera.