Despite the haven of the Shrine in the Throat, the Diviner found no solace in his homeland that day. Though he was aware the shrines had been destroyed, the Gods had always answered him no matter what he sought, and should their absence reign he nevertheless found solace in the footprints they had left etched forever into the warm rock. Once upon a time, he had even met a talking tortoise with wisdom far beyond what Cera could ever comprehend. It was a secondary home, one he worshipped as profoundly as the Shrine of his Lord.

He had started out early, when the sky was a vibrant purple of awakening. The sand had trailed into compact earth, and with the tick of the hours birdsong and the rustling of life had greeted him like a long lost friend. Such sounds were not prevalent in his desert home land. It would be a few hours more until he would reach the Veins, so he enjoyed the solitude and the time it granted him to think. The path was sewn into his heart with silver threading looped through a golden needle, spinning a compass upon his heart onto a lane of memories and well-traveled flights of desperation and confusion. Nothing had changed but the passage of time wearing down the stone altars, a comfort of degradation.

Only, there was something beyond, something new. Wholly unprepared for the sight of an island perched in the sky, Cera stared for many moments in shock. All that uprooted him from his stunned passivity was the movement of another body, the flow of scent into nares that recognized a Throat kin within a moment. Unaware of the name of the other Throatling, he nevertheless moved forward as he saw her form begin to struggle against the clouds that had clung to her ankles. Staring in wordless shock as it lifted her bodily from the earth, taking her to the surface of the island in the distance.

Cera shied away from the untrustworthy substance, eyeing it warily. The sky was meant for those with wings, with currents and drafts and experience to navigate them. It was delightful that others could enjoy the experience, in a way, but Cera would never have a contraption- magical or not- replace his wings. Racing for the edge, still worried for his sister in arms, pale hooves lurched against the precipice of rock and angelic wings snapped forth to carry his weight into the nothing. Ilaria chattered nervously from his shoulders, eyeing the island with a mixture of curiosity and displeasure. It could either be a formation of the Gods, in which Cera would trust its intentions, or it could be a ploy to trick and ensnare the naive citizens of the peninsula.

Landing hesitantly, muscles straining to keep from placing his weight fully upon the earth until he was sure it would not crumble from beneath him, the painted boy continued on until he heard soft musings from ahead. Sighing in relief that the fae was unharmed, he jogged forth to join her. "I have no idea. You're from the Throat, aren't you? My name is Cera, son of Midas and Diviner of our land. May I know your name?" Pleasant smile warmed his pale features as he gazed upon the lass, happy simply because she was well and his worries had calmed to a degree concerning her health. Looking out at what lay before them, he frowned softly. "I don't see much activity. Would you like to explore with me? We can report back to Sohalia and Africa, I suspect they'd wish to know of this development." One wing extended from his shoulder as if bowing and extending an arm in invitation of a stroll on this new terrain that held so many secrets.

Ashamed that he had startled her, the painted youth stepped away to give her space and sheepishly lowered crown with an apologetic smile. He should have thought before speaking, but worry warped even the most honest of intentions. "My apologies, I didn't think to announce myself." Ilaria barked softly from his spine in agreement, as if apologizing for her bonded's thoughtlessness. Whether or not it was his apology that soothed her or some sort of internal realization, the young dame turned her oceanic eyes to meet his. Cera smiled as she introduced herself, bowing his head respectfully in greeting to her, knee dipping elegantly. "A pleasure, miss Sia. I'm afraid there aren't many ways to shorten my name, but feel free to call me however you wish," he professed. His name was short by nature, with too few syllables to turn into anything cute or friendly, and at times he regretted such a thing.

Sakura blossoms drift as if suspended in time, swirling around them on zephyrs that caress his skin. Petals twine into his mane and tail as they kiss his canvas while they drift past him. They seem to do the same to Sikeax, playing around their hooves like foals, demanding action despite already having fallen to the earth. It is a carpet that invites them further into the suspicious, beautiful island. He spies her dipping her head to indulge in the grass, and looks away to ensure her privacy, instead busying himself with stepping forward to feel the luxurious silk of the petals beneath his hooves. It's almost entrancing.

Ilaria is who reminds him of her words, and Cera cannot help but to laugh gently. "I am often expressive with my wings, I apologize. I was merely motioning for you to walk with me, an invitation of sorts." It had been so long since he'd been around anyone devoid of the feathered appendages, he hadn't had to explain before his intentions when it came to his actions with his wings. It was endearing, in a way. Shuffling his wings back to his sides with an understanding smile he slowly walked forward. "Do you explore often, Sia?" He desired to know more of his herdmate, and simple chatter seemed an appropriate way to achieve that.

At the attention from the lovely lass, Ilaria wiggled her little body joyously and yipped further. If Cera was a friendly face to most who knew him, Ilaria was even more so, often forging a deeper friendship with others than Cera himself. Instead of becoming upset by such a conclusion to most meetings, Cera found it more amusing than anything that his companion was so lovely that others found themselves as endeared as he did. He smiles away her nervousness, nodding to assure her that she is correct in assuming Ilaria's gender. "Her name is Ilaria," he lilted with a soft look over his shoulder to view the sassy little creature. Her tail merely wiggled in amusement. "She is a Red Panda. I've had her nearly as long as I can remember, Grandfather Earth gifted her to me when I was but a colt." Ilaria cooed at him lovingly, scampering up his neck in a well-practiced motion to curl round his ears like a living accessory, patting his cheek with gentle paws and drawing a laugh from his birdlike chest.

There is no note of any significant emotion to alert Cera to the bittersweet nature of her recollections, for surely he would have comforted her and apologized for asking a question of such genre had he been aware of her discomfort. Instead he is consumed by his own memories, humming softly in his throat as eyes drift to times far in the past and in places miles away. "Ah, I'm afraid despite my desires as a colt, I never ventured far from the borders of the desert." Ever trusting of others, he turned and lifted his head high, stretching throat to display the wicked scar spanning the width of his chest. "I received this days after Ilaria and I bonded, in the Deep Forest. I suppose, after that, with Midas forever watching over me and my own fears holding me back, I never desired to adventure." Despite the tragedy he speaks of his smile is nearly perpetual, as if incapable of fading.

Letting crown fall back to a normal resting place, Ilaria disgruntled and hissing softly at the memory of her prince bleeding out on the forest floor, poisoned and inches from death, she clings to his crown further as if it could somehow protect him and erase all that had happened in the past. He hopes not to make her feel uncomfortable with his admission, for he has never minded speaking of such sensitive topics of his past, but until she reacts he cannot judge whether or not he is in the wrong mindframe.

Keeping his pace slow to accommodate her, despite being of equal height, merely out of respect should she wish to continue grazing. Her soft voice probes into his aurals, seeking out his attention which he freely gives with an inquisitive smile as crown turns to find her eyes. Gazing out over the precipice not far from where they've traveled, he smiles, realizing she would not know for she is not granted the abilities he holds merely because of the species he was born. "Yes, Sia. It's nearly the exact same, truly. Of course, it's much harder to achieve no movement when flying, so it's not quite accurate. But being up this high? Yes." He smiled indulgently at her, finding no trouble in answering her questions and hoping to inspire a confidence in her, to encourage her to speak more freely with him, for he would never be troubled with her questions or even idle chatter.

"Do you have family in the Throat, Sia? Or, someone you consider such?" Maybe it was a personal question, but he was interested in the dame beside him, and Cera had quite the habit of taking others beneath wing and turning them into family forged by bond instead of blood. Midas had passed on such a quality to him, and Sia was young enough and he old enough where it would not be too uncomfortable. Young Amani had already been tucked close to his breast, and he looked out for her as any older brother might, and the young stallion feared Sikeax suffering the same loneliness as Cera once had. He would do anything to keep anybody from suffering such a fate.

Cringing away from the ghastly sight of his scar inspires a surge of regret in Cera's conscience, and he hums softly in apology. "It is not pretty, I agree. But it is a symbol that I have survived," he spoke softly, eyes warm and understanding. He, too, had been unable to stand the sight of it when at first he had received the wound. Even if magic had the capability of erasing the scar upon its initial creation as a wound, it would never eradicate the scar upon his mind. Time had healed him, far faster with the aid of his doting father and the wisdom of the Earth Turtle. But the scars, both of them, would remain until he met the end of his days.

Her sheepishness is unwarranted, for he is already concerned for the shadows that dance like reminders of plague between her ribs upon her coat. He attempts to catch her eyes this time, instead of turning aside his gaze for her comfort. "Conversation does not lull from a desire to eat, Sia. I will not be offended, it was I who interrupted your evening after all. Please, graze. I chatter far too much for my health as it is," laughter poured from his maw in a kindly manner, attempting to lighten the otherwise serious consideration for her health. It was a wound Ilaria could not stitch together with her magic, one that could only be shrunk by the tending of the individual it afflicted.

Such curiosity offers him more time to speak, to elaborate and craft for her the experience he cannot fully offer her. The time for her to consume the flesh of the blades at their disposal. Her nervous laughter and flittering eyes are saddening, for there was arrogance in all species, and the reaction she was expecting could be evoked no matter the lack or presence of horn. "No wish is ever foolish, Sia. Many wish for flight. If it was a gift I could give you, be assured I would. It is...exhilarating. You feel unbound, unchained. The sky is your palace, no matter how many others may share it at a given time, it is an unspoken agreement between all flighted beings. It both belongs to all, and belongs solely to you." Voice becomes wistful, loving almost, as he tries to put into words an emotion far too pure and beautiful for any language.

"It is...hard to describe. You are disconnected, untouchable, powerful. This sight you see, this high above? You see it and you know of all the evil and the danger, and you don't fear it at all, because it cannot touch you. But it is so pure, so innocent, a beautiful sensation. Skill is gained in time, but even newly flighted beings...flying requires trust in yourself. If there is one thing able to make a lost soul realize who they are, in and out, it is flight. So long as you know yourself, you will never fail, never falter, never fall." His own early flight days were full of pain, physically, but nothing aside sheer joy mentally and emotionally. Flushing to have been so adoring in his lengthy speech, he quiets, turning head away shyly.

In fact he is rather relieved when she speaks, taking the floor for herself with as much abandonment as Cera in her past. His eyes softened and he turned, boldly reaching muzzle out in offering for a returned touch, a gesture of kinship and trust. "You do not deserve such treatment, Sia. I too was abandoned by my family. But I swear upon the Gods, I will not abandon you, Sikeax." His lyrics are strong and sincere, a fire blazing in emerald depths, echoed by a purr from the companion astride his lean shoulders. "You are my sister by herd and my friend by bond. Should you ever need me, for duty or for kinship, all you must do is call." Such a promise was offered to all those he loved or held dear, one he would always abide no matter the bountiful numbers collecting beneath its umbrella. He would sooner drop dead of exhaustion than leave them with a broken promise and shattered trust.

Hoping to have not made her uncomfortable with his often blunt honesty and overwhelming kindness, the patched cherub moved away and began treading the coral carpet into the depths of the island once more as he considered her question. Once he found his answer he began to laugh, embarrassed. "I uh...I tend to adopt many into my family. I am unrelated by blood to all in Helovia. I have a habit of taking others beneath wing and never letting them leave." Even as he says this his smile is wide and adoring as he envisions those belonging to such a category. Cera chuckled and shook his head fondly before continuing on. "Ranjiri and her son Ryuu, my sister and nephew. Africa and Sohalia, both my sisters long before they ever found themselves crowned. Hector, my uncle and brother in some odd fashion. Amani, much like a daughter but a sister to me. Many I consider family do not lie in the desert as well. Midas, my father, Czar of the Falls. Rasta, one of his flock. Aurelia, an outcast meant for our lands." Realizing how long his list was, how he had finally managed to start fighting the loneliness he felt so often and so deeply with his emphatic nature, only made his smile glow warmer.

"It's a lengthy list, and it grows ever longer. I would be honored to have you upon it one day," he admitted, directing his smile at the cremello child.

Embarrassment colors the dame's face in a shade Cera is familiar with, but his smile is kindly and encouraging, hoping to bolden her in his presence. Understanding that sometimes, all it took was one soul that you could open up around to take that first step into bravery concerning others. Midas had been that guardian of Cera's shyness, and eventually, well, he had ended up exactly where he stood in that moment. The roles reversed, and he now the one with the extended hand and comforting words, offering shelter in his presence for those shy and broken souls to hide in until they were strong enough to find and build their own homes. Though he is the one flattered and flustered by her words, crown ducking with a smile curling his lips that was far shyer than previously. Even so she has not dipped her head to obey his urging, and concern buds like new leaves in his belly. "Thank you, Sia. Nobody has ever said something so kind to me before," he admitted, eyes soft as they moved to gaze upon her. "But please, your health is more important, there is no need to be shy in my presence," voice dropping into a cloudlike level of softness, concern like a lattice pattern in his emerald eyes.

Hopefully she would take the chance to graze while he tried his hardest to find words that did not fit in order to explain to her the intricacies, the beauty, of flight. Her gasp is the only sound she proffers, comments withheld on the surge of words falling from his lips, and for a moment he fears he has overstepped some sort of invisible line with her. But then she is moving closer, her soft canvas brushing the lines and curves of his neck, and he moves closer in the same way that she had. Their words are murmured, quieter with their shared spatial area. Far more intimate and meaningful with how they were uttered, and Cera smiled weakly at her confession.

"I don't require an explanation, Sia. Your happiness is all the gratitude I could ever wish for." Her comment on his own family tightened his heart, eyes moist with gratitude of his own. Memories of his mother were fuzzed and nearly nonexistent, but her words touched deep into his emotions and began to mend what he hadn't known was broken. "Thank you, Sia," he whispered, for he too couldn't find the words to express how deeply she had moved him. In that, they were kin.

Their separation is natural, but slow, and Cera cannot help but remain physically near to her even as they walk. Quiet words touch pale cream aurals and he extended a wing to potentially issue a friendly nudge for her attention, smile turning into a cheeky grin. "I think that time approaches far swifter than you intend," he laughed, while Ilaria chittered amusedly upon his spine. They were in agreement that the wonderful lass would soon find herself etched upon one of Cera's ribs, as all his family was, to be both held close to his heart and to protect it from damage simultaneously.