A soft sigh caressed the side of Rasta's face as Cera exhaled, smiling a little bitterly. "Don't punish yourself for worrying others. It's a symbol of our love for you." It was all he could try to construct to help ease her guilt, and while he didn't personally consider himself eloquent, he hoped at some point during this meeting he would be able to lay to rest whatever was eating at her brain. Ilaria lifted her tiny head to place it on Rasta's spine gently, purring softly in her throat to try and inspire peace and security in the mare's tremulous heart.

There was not much for them to say or do but listen as Rasta spoke, trailing on and on about what she supposedly had to apologize for and all the regrets she had since accepting the quest presented to her. Terror stabbed deep into his heart at the mere notion of losing Ilaria, and he grappled tightly to their bond, and she in turn as they clung to one another mentally. Ilaria had nearly lost him, and he her when d'Artagnan had nearly killed him. Neither desired to feel that ever again. They were all the other had, after all, and it had been Ilaria and Fina that had raised him and kept him company all his life. Cera would not have had the bravery that Rasta did. If he were ever to lose Ilaria, he would follow her into the afterlife, for no companion could ever replace her. He couldn't imagine the hole that must have been left in Rasta's soul, and so could not possibly judge her for a choice he couldn't fathom making from his point in life that moment.

He tightened his hold on her gently, keeping her close and taking on whatever weight she deigned to place upon him. It was the least he could do aside from avidly listening to all she needed to let out. When she began to cry and ebbed into silence, he hugged her tight and laughed softly, not mockingly but disbelieving. "I never once judged you for however you appeared to me, Rasta. Don't apologize for being mortal, for having emotions." It is said firmly, nearly fierce in how it is delivered, but it's a notion he is desperate for her to understand. "You have not been any sort of a terrible friend. I could not imagine you being a better friend, so cast that from your mind. Silence does not imply a lack of support or love. You have no apologies to make to me, Rasta. I never condemned you to warrant them." He smiles against her skin in his sincerity, hoping she can tell with how honest he speaks that he is in all intents truthful in his responses.

"There is much I may wish to know of you, Rasta. Do you have a mate, or foals? What is your favorite color? Do you like sweet grass or clover better? Rasta, my sister, you do not need to offer such a weighted question. What I know of you now? It is enough. I know your loyal heart and sincere ways. All I wish to know of you now, my friend, are the simple things." And he holds her close and smiles.