Cera. Rest.

One pale ear twitched despite no audible noise being apparent as Ilaria slipped into his mind to speak with him. He had been flying all night, circling the borders repeatedly until his shoulders ached and his lungs protested the inherently thinner, colder air. Worry had his mind in all sorts of knots and tangles, and flying had always helped him sort out and accept any problems he encountered. His sister had appeared out of nowhere, an outcast and nomad by nature, with a tiny malnourished colt at her side, begging for sanctuary. A home. He hadn't seen her in seasons, and when she returned to him, it was with a foal that needed very apparent care. One that hardly spoke at all and stared at the world with quiet, withdrawn eyes.

How was he supposed to help her care for a foal? He had not been raised in the best of fashions, no matter how caring and supportive Midas had been. How was he supposed to give Ranjiri any sort of tips? They were both far too young to be supporting a foal, and he was desperately trying to figure out some sort of schedule or solution that could fit both his sister and little Ryuu. But flying had not solved his problems completely, his plans shoddy and outlined roughly in his head but in no way finalized. Ilaria was right, he needed rest if he was going to think clearly the next day and still do his duties.

Sighing, trembling limbs let the tension seep away from hollow bones and close to his sides inch by inch, slowing his descent to a gentle glide down to the earth. Pale hooves touched the sands with a whisper of sound, and though his shoulders were practically on fire, he was still wide awake. Withholding yet another sigh- he wasn't an old stallion, geez!- he turned in the moonlight and let the sands guide him to the magnolia tree and the oasis. Felt the sand turn to clay against his frogs and sighed in bliss as he waded into the water, watching the image of the moon on the surface ripple with his entrance. For the first time since reuniting with his sister he felt at peace.

@[Tandavi] and Open!

I am still but a child, Ilaria. How can I help her raise a foal when she is younger than even I? The murmur came back, soft but sturdy with the weight of her love. As you always have, Cera. With love and patience. Comfort washed over him as surely as the water cooling his already chilled hide. The desert was cool at night, a common misconception to those who dwelled outside its sandy clutches. The temperature was unnoticed by the painted cherub, instead letting head droop wearily to the water until lightly whiskered muzzle kissed the surface, ripples expanding from the point of contact. A soft sigh spread the water in a quickening away from his nares, sleepy emeralds staring dully at the liquid being disturbed. Despite the exhaustion clinging to Cera's form, sleep would not come in the oasis, not that he intended to depart just yet.

Worry will end my years sooner than I desire, he chuckled aloud, though the words were sanctified and corralled into the secure link between himself and his companion. Ilaria cooed understandingly, braiding his hair idly with soft, practiced paws. Much as she had for Rasta that horrible, wonderful, conflicting day. On the shores of the Oasis, in fact. Ilaria patted his shoulder at the end of one such braid, snuffling softly against his skin with a blackened nose. Worry is a sign of love, as you told Rasta. It makes you stronger, but it is a tiring emotion. Cera smiled against the water, eyes slipping to a gentle shuttering. Ilaria had always been wiser than he, and truthfully he often entertained the notion of her becoming the Wise One instead of himself. She would surely be more fitting, had she the body of an equine.

Someone approaches. Fine, fluffy ears catch the intrusion before his own. Turning at the scuff of hooves on sand, discordant and chaotic, eyes blink open in a hurry and crown lifts from the surface of the mirror substance. Concern welded itself into his features as quickly as a shooting star, only further proving Ilaria's words. Tandavi's face is a beacon in the darkness as she stops, abrupt and shaken, and stares. There is silence between them, Cera's brow crinkling with worry as he turns and begins to slowly approach the Physician. The maiden is a familiar face, but they have not been properly nor personally introduce.

"Sister? Are you well?" Lyrics are soft and full of attentive care, for any troubled soul that walked across his path both deserved and warranted his best attempts at consolation. Water sloshes over ivory legs as the lad approaches, slow and tentative, not desiring to scare her off in her seemingly fragile state. "Would you like to join me?" Perhaps an offer of company and stability would entice her? Ilaria cooed softly at the lass from the peak of his shoulder, paws still moving over moonlight tresses and weaving them into braids to fall like shimmering silver across slim shoulders.