It's saddening in a million ways when she speaks, to know she thinks of them angels when they are merely decent souls. It was clear she had not seen nearly as much kindness in her long life as she deserved. Cera had several lifetimes to span in order to make it up to her, but it didn't mean he'd give up trying to show her that the world was so much more than the bubble of fear she'd built around herself. "No, my friend. We are not angels. We merely are aware of them when we see them, and treat them as carefully as we can." He shifts it around to compliment her, tone sincere and sweet. She was selfless and loving, and deserved every kind word and flattering compliment available in their language. Cera didn't claim to be a master of the art of language, he may be eloquent but he was no creator of divine phrases and breathtaking sonnets of devotion. Even so he would weave words around her until it became a bandage, healing the wounds so many careless hands had left upon her skin.

As Ilaria braids her hair with gentle paws, tail flicking in a soothing repetitive manner over a golden shoulder, Cera recalls that he had never told Rasta of his new position. Laughing softly he hugs her closer, shifting his wing to better conceal her from the sun. "I'm honored that you think so highly of me, sister. It is a position I never anticipated, but one I thoroughly enjoy." Though he is mildly displeased at having become the focus of attention once more, he will not allow her sweetness to go unthanked.

Cera frowned to see her tears return, brushing his lips across them gently to wipe them away from existence as they fall from blind eyes. "Blessed or not, I will do all I can to grant your wish. What is but one foal to make someone happy in the immortal lifetime of a God? If required, I will take it upon my own record of collected favors." He would rather she be given a foal in good health than one extra possibility of magic or supremacy. Would gladly forfeit such a thing in fact if it brought to her the joy he suspected it would.

"And perhaps one more stallion to be raised to treat them right," he said softly, trying to put a positive spin on the darkness of her thoughts. "You are never truly alone, even when you travel in solitude. All you need do is call, and I will come to you. Africa, Sohalia, Alleo. That is four already, and I know there are more. The birds need not be your only comfort." Her heat seems to resonate from her body, and he frowns down at her in concern. Why is she still so overheated? Cera's presence could partially be the reason of course. "Rasta, would you like to move further into the water? Perhaps a drink? You are dreadfully warm, and your body is not used to our climate." Worry erases any potential questions he could ask her as Ilaria finishes braiding her mane, taking the clip and fumbling with it momentarily before securing it near her nape. Glinting prettily in the sun.