Midas is gone.

Cera had no idea where he was, or why he had gone so suddenly, but he missed him. He had been abandoned, again. This time, it stung far worse. He tried not to think about it, tried to keep busy, but...he was still just a kid. Tonight, today, whatever it was, he had returned from an encounter with Mystique. Still unsure of how to feel, what to think, his aerodynamic appendages had embraced the fickle wind and taken him slowly home. The air was sweet, but stale as it kissed his nostrils, and if he closed his eyes and let himself go well...nobody was there to judge him. And if he let himself drop limply from the sky, Ilaria curled upon his shoulders trustingly, nobody could call him suicidal, or strange. He was alone in a world that had been occupied by only his father for so long. What was he going to do now?

How was it that someone so kind and outgoing, would end up friendless and alone? Where had he gone wrong, all this time? Was it his attachment to his father? Had he not been independent enough? Had it been the lack of a female figure in his life?

Hush, comes a familiar, feminine voice inside his head. No, it's more than that. The word resonates in a way that is more than intrusive. It's almost like he thinks it too, and it's...comforting. Ilaria cooed gently to him, fluffy tail swaying in a comforting, purposeful caress against his shoulder. The crimson sands of his home glow in the light of the pillar that has been their only hope all this time. Everything is silent, still. Aside from the push of his wings and the soft breaths that blow back in a crisp warm-cold hybrid, there is nothing else. Complete...all-consuming...silence.

The world is lonely, and so is he.

The magnolia tree is well within his sights, where he had left Roskuld last- the girl he and Gaucho had found injured within their borders, and who he had pledged to protect and care for despite her objections- when a glint of movement catches his eye. Frowning, he doesn't even think twice before he shoves his left shoulder towards the earth and snaps his wings close, falling in a tight spiral towards the sand below. He lands with a sharp thud, legs aching, but he is already advancing with wings raised as high and far as he can. All he knows is that Roskuld is moving, leaving the safety of the tree, and somebody is approaching her whom he can't make out. A snarl is on his face, Ilaria bristling on his shoulder, and he charges the person who is coming close to Roskuld.

His forelegs lift high in a promise of strike a few lengths before he reaches the unknown figure, only to realize it was no intruder, but a Throat citizen. Stopping, he calmed his angered breathing, and stared at her with a puzzled and sheepish face. When it really hit him, finally took hold, the apologetic face of realizing it was a normal Throat inhabitant changed to realizing it was really Onni. Onni, the only person aside from his father he actually knew, actually loved. The one who had saved his life as a child, the only female he could trust to give him solid advice and whom he looked to when in need of a mother. "Onni," he breathed, and his face crumbles into the weakest it has ever been. Lost, helpless. He hasn't seen his father in countless nights, the only person he has left is standing nearby, and he has only known her for a short while. He's still just a kid. He can't do this alone. Just a kid...

His muzzle reaches for her, craving her touch, but he's hesitant and his lips dither with uncertainty. Finally he turns his head away, Ilaria cooing in distress on his shoulders, and wonders if she reached out to him too. If he meant anything to her, as she did to him.

He turns emerald eyes to Roskuld then, and he moves towards her, Ilaria peering over his shoulder to chirp at her in recognition. "Roskuld...are you okay?" Worry is coating every syllable, wanting to know why she is not waiting for him, if she was even waiting at all. Selfishly he hopes she was, because even if she may not like him, she is his only friend. A destructive friendship gave him reason to live. Loneliness did not.

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That was literally the WORST post I have ever made. I am extremely disappointed in myself, and I am so sorry that this is what I gave you guys.

Beautiful, intense jewels pin him fiercely where he stands, and Cera gives a tiny lilt of a smile because he knows. Somehow, he knows she feels tied down by his worry, because she is not the kind to hide her emotions. Roskuld had no bars, no ties, no barriers that she could not overcome with her sheer, stubborn will. Despite her griping over his worried mother-hen attitude, Cera could not bring himself to stop. It was all he knew, now. With Midas, Ranjiri, and Hototo gone, miles away from him, Cera had nobody to love or take care of. Just when he had been going insane, lonely and with nobody to talk to, Roskuld had been deposited directly into his lap. Or, perhaps the better wording was that she had been deposited directly upon his borders. Maybe he did not change her life as much as she did his, but he was magnificent at counting and clutching his blessings. Even when she moved on and left their bloody-sanded abode, her memory would remain, an after-image that would keep him company until the day his family was returned to him.

Surely enough, as he lands with a soft thud upon the particles below, he can see the exasperated amusement in her features. Before she speaks, a soft lilting voice caresses his ears like the loving croon of a dove, reminding him how he had spoken her name. Turning his cranium back towards her, emerald diamonds went wide in surprise when he realized that he had to look down upon her sweet face for the first time. If there was a truer testament to how much he had grown, Cera did not know it. In their presence, the tremors subside, the depression is pushed away, and soon the glow of the embers inside are being fanned by their familiar faces, and he is glowing anew. "You seem to have shrunk, Miss Onni!" he chuckled, voice noticeably deeper from his chipper, boyish voice the last time he had laid eyes upon her homely features. Together they move, and they touch one another easily, with a familiar knowledge that is more intimate than that of a normal kinship of the Throat. Onni had saved his life, as a babe, and because of it he had grown to know her deeply, and he loved her similarly. "It has been far too long. It warms my hear to see you, Miss Onni."

Withdrawing and straightening from the hunch he'd adopted in order to reach her slighter frame, Cera's ears swivel to Roskuld, to hear her deny her own health. Frowning, he watches her carefully, studying her, but careful this time not to show too much concern or pity. If anything, she is thrice the warrior he is, and her strength will last her endlessly. Her words coil on her tongue like a writhing snake, spat out with similar venom, though it seems even she does not know where it is directed. Cera decides not to take it the wrong way, and quietly listens until at last she shoves into his face, angrily stomping her hoof into the sand below. He is far taller than her, an extra year or so granting him that advantage, but he is respectful of the power he instinctively senses, and does not treat her like a child because of stature. After all, Kri was about her size, and Roskuld would likely get along fabulously with the chocolate titan. That, or they would destroy each other like two rabid cats testing out newly sharpened claws.

"I understand, Roskuld. It is time for you to move on, you don't have to explain yourself to me." Spoken with a calm smile, Ilaria chirrups over his shoulder in agreement at the youth. Her anger was wild, but it wasn't because of him, so he managed a soft response. "You don't have to know. People are here to help you, even if you don't want them. You have plenty of time to figure it out," he tried to comfort, though he was hesitant to be snapped at should he say the wrong thing.

Of course, something snapped in recognition, and Roskuld's attentions were swiftly pivoting towards Onni instead, proclaiming her knowledge that had apparently only just then settled. Cera sat back and watched, intrigued, but said nothing as the two maidens began to converse. Lyhty's anger at the disruption makes Cera smile fondly at him, though he doesn't want to attract the attention of the fierce little songbird. He'd likely get his eyes pecked out. Instead he would just appreciate the little spitfire from afar. Tuning back into the conversation he shifted his weight to a more comfortable stance, idly reaching his wing out to attempt to brush Onni's flight feathers. He was a creature of touch, ever since birth, and now that he finally had someone he loved and cared for deeply at his side, he didn't want to miss the chance.