A beacon of glowing golds and enchanting reds is the goal for his body to aim for, the beautiful bird he adored in similar a fashion the fussing cub upon his back. Cub though she was no longer, Fina and Ilaria were two of the most precious parts of his life though they held forms that differed from most he conversed with. In the darkening greys of the sky held aloft, seemingly sinking towards the earth with the pressure of the oncoming storm, the phoenix was a lurid figure of hope and love on the distant sands. Warm inviting coos were his greeting, sore bodice limping across clay clumps and carmine sands, saturated into a drab wasteland of greyscale hues with the oncoming thunder and rain. A tired smile twitched upon reluctant lips, a silent reciprocation of her love and welcoming. Though it was a welcoming no longer...these were not her lands, nor were they Midas's, and so the task of greeting lay upon the youth's shoulders, a burden he did not appreciate. It was a reminder of the anger and injustice he still felt towards his father, of their last encounter that had ended on far too sour and broken a note. Cera selfishly did not dwell on that day, setting aside the duties of his rank when they dared to apply to his own life.

Old linguistics, familiar and roughened with age and grizzled personality, soothed a mindset Cera was unaware had ever been frazzled. Fina's singing caused Cera to gasp out a pathetic variation of a laugh, and he turned to a more verbose way of greeting aside the prior curl of lips. "Hello Fina. You are as beautiful as I recalled." The stab of his own words drove into his heart. Recalled. But this was not a time to fight, to inspire frustration and hatred nor to tender it like fire where instead his task was to carry the torch of warmth rather than destruction. This path of thought led to hesitation to accept the proffered muzzle, the dark lips seeking his own touch, his reciprocation of love.

It was broken soon enough, pale whiskers reaching forward to return the embrace, though it was kept brief and chaste if only for the fact that questions were to be answered. "There is no need to worry, though I doubt she will heed my words. The sun guides me true, and he has named me his patron, his speaker. It was to protect someone I hold dear to my heart, that I hold these wounds." Eyes softened, turning to a face Midas could not see, with quiet eyes and a tentative smile set into soft buttermilk canvas. An embrace among cherry blossoms, a whispered promise. The well of horror in his painted chest to see wicked claws seeking to devour her, the instinctive drive to protect her, to sacrifice himself if it meant she walked away unharmed.

His father had given up the right to know such things about Cera's life.

"Ranjiri is likely with her son Ryuu. The weather is likely taking its toll on the poor colt's hooves, she has surely bedded him down beneath the magnolia." The magnolia where he had grown up, as well. Cera only prayed he did better by Ryuu than his own upraising. Midas had done his best, but with his rank and the absence of a mother and siblings, Cera had been lonely most his foalhood. The latter question was already half-answered with the revelation of Cera's new rank, but he had little else to share. "My Lord has given me the gift of crafting, alongside my task of leading and advising. He has similarly chosen to gift me with a quest, to pursue my own magic. There is little else to share, I have been endlessly busied. Advising my Sultanas, tending to my people's worries, helping Jiji raise Ryuu, crafting for the herd...it's nice to be needed." Lyrics softened with the soft admission, almost embarrassed to speak it aloud into the tense air of the oncoming storm.