The homely young lady gives a bashful smile at his request, crown dipping in acknowledgement and agreement as her lips form words that emphasize her action. Cera smiles in return, genteel but affectionate as he looks upon the smaller dame at his side. He won't abandon her like all of his family had done to him. Something seemed to be resting on her tongue, unspoken but desperately wanting to be, and Cera waited her words with a patience he'd been born with. When it came slipping out, hesitant and slightly fumbled in an endearing, infinitely precious way, he laughed softly; careful not to draw too much attention from the God they so revered. "She's a red panda. Much like a small bear and a lemur perhaps?" his brows furrow and he laughs as he tries to think of a genus he knows nothing about. Only her species is known to him. "But she is very gentle. She is a healer, in fact." Ilaria stood upon his withers, front paws tucked to her chest, and chirped an affirmation with a delighted swing of her tail. Pretty, pretty. Nice! Like her! Cera winked at his companion, laughing in his throat, and turned back towards Amani. "She said you're very pretty and nice, and that she likes you." With that little tidbit, he turned back to the God momentarily, one ear still affectionately tilted Amani's way.

The God looked upon him and Cera tilted his head, Ilaria quickly moving to pay attention once more. His words embodied his element in how they moved the youth before him, warm in his chest like embers and hot summer days. Proud and loving. The celestial's smile was like an award, a note written in a language one could not read, that Cera was no failure. That the path of light and honesty would always lead him true. Stepping forward with surety, the patched stallion looked up into the face of his Lord and smiled. One wing dropped, followed by a knee, into the smoothest, most graceful bow he could muster. "Thank you, my Lord. I will not disappoint you." But what did he desire? Ilaria could heal, and in his mind he knew there were only two options left; offensive and crafting. Which would serve him in the coming days to uphold his Lord's ideals? "I wish to use your light, my Lord. To stun my enemies as they look upon your fires, so that I may use the time to strike them down and protect those I love." Slowly he slid back out of his bow as he spoke, eyes firm with decisiveness.

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[Magic: Light | Able to create a small explosion of light, with his body as the focal point, that can temporarily blind or stun his opponent. Only effective if gazed upon, the burst itself only lasts a few seconds.]