Hector had run, hiding from the pulsing flames of Cera’s anger like the coward he was. And with no viable target to place the fire of his fury upon, the Prince was left with no outlet. A swelling, burning galaxy of anger and hurt that battered the boundaries of his mortal flesh, threatening to tear him apart if he did not set it free upon those who had taken their talons to his heart. Once upon a time, the Golden would never have dreamed of hunting down those who had wronged him – wronged those he loved – and forcing them to pay for their crimes in flesh and blood. Gaucho’s death had driven the child momentarily from his heart, and in its place stood Cera as he was now – a supernova with no end on the horizon, consuming everything around him in a blaze of light and righteousness. The boy had shed his cloak to reveal a world-weary and furious creature of pestilence and promised vengeance. And so he screams through gnashing teeth and spittle as he wheels away from the ghost of Hector’s cowardice, sand flying everywhere as he sweeps his monstrous wings in a powerful swoop and he takes to the skies like an archangel in pursuit of a demon.
 
Hector had refused to answer to his crimes, and so Cera turns his righteous gaze upon the next who had abandoned the Throat - abandoned him - without penance.
 
He will not stop, will not rest, until the entire herd knows that such behavior is unacceptable. That Cera would place himself in the position of judge, jury, and executioner in the wake of Gaucho’s death if they did not cease. It was the only thing that would even begin to temper the burning edges of his torn heart and cavernous soul. And so he hunts her down, the pale dove that had come and gone so many times over the years, the one he’d trusted and looked up to for so many years. He’s a stellar explosion that will make its mark on this herd, on this era, even if it means burning himself out in a glorious display of light that would stretch across the skies for years to come. One way or another, he will bring about change.
 
Even if he must play the role of the villain.
 
As her pale form flickers across his line of sight, Cera is reminded of a crying, hitch-breathed voice that declared abandonment that had resonated in the Prince’s childlike breast. A lightning-marked girl searching the wilds for an absent mother. Hatred that can grow only on the fury-soaked soils of the present claws its way through his throat and across his teeth as he screams down at her, descending from the skies in a flurry of white and gold.
 

“FACE ME, SOHALIA! FOR YOUR ABANDONMENT OF THIS FAMILY, OF YOUR DAUGHTER ALETA! PAY FOR YOUR CRIMES, AND DARE TO FACE THE ONE YOU LEFT BEHIND!”

 

It screams out like a storm, a hurricane, ripping apart the silence as his wings fold and he hits the sand running on aching, protesting limbs. Armor unfolds from his bracelet as he sprints towards her, refusing to stop, refusing to heed whatever she cries to him in this moment of challenge. It settles heavy on his skin, but does little to dissuade the burning, destructive comet he has become. 

The Prince lunges for the sinner, the betrayer, the blasphemer. White teeth flash as he aims for any pound of flesh he can anchor himself to, uncaring of which way she has turned or where she currently faces but hoping for the thin flesh of her left flank if she has turned to face him instead of running as Hector did. However she responds, Cera throws himself recklessly to the right, intending to slam his sprinting body into her alongside his gaping maw. Shove her to the earth where she belongs, where she can properly grovel on her knees. Where she can stare up at his flaming silhouette and recognize her faults and flaws.
 
She does not even deserve the sand he hopes she falls upon, doesn’t deserve the title she carries, the scent and alliance of the Throat. If she wants to fight for it she may, but Cera will not go easy on her. If she wants to be part of the Throat then she would have to go through him, because her abandonment would not be tolerated ever again. He would ensure it, no matter the cost. 

- - -

Attack: {1/4}
Words: {755/800}
Setting: {Dragon's Throat, mid-afternoon, clear skies and low to mild wind, no extreme conditions. Set soon after Hector challenge}

Cera is challenging Sohalia for honor!