Cloaked in sunbeams and sightless breezes, the Golden Prince is late to the party. Patrol, is corrected by the little beastie on his back, prim and sassy as always. Cera chuckled softly, his eyes roving the earth below in search of his partners. Helping Gaucho with his quest had sapped away time, far more than the forger had anticipated, actually. Having been away from his companion so long, the young Prince had returned to the Throat from the beaches to retrieve her (of course, only after having to help Ampere with her odd coconut-hunting business for the party). By that time he was dreadfully close to the required meeting time, and Ilaria had bitten him upon the nape and scolded him half the flight there for his poor time management. A fluffy tail whacked just behind his shoulder, incensed by the thoughts she could feel throughout his mind, and the young cherub laughed once more. It was snatched away by the wind, stolen from his tongue to die on the wake of his passing.

Boughs bend beneath his passing, beneath the hard thrust of his wings and the air he conjures like magic beneath each filament, each ivory feather. They are easy enough to find, gleaming figures on an emerald stage, new peridot leaves incapable of shuttering away those he seeks. They are like gold and silver beacons, tiny in the scheme of the world but large in Cera's heart and mind. He circles high above them, riding the currents and observing them, their surroundings. Assuring that nothing is approaching to harm them, that they've not missed some predator that would seek to shred their souls and forms.

A whistle through his feathers is all the noise he makes, descending upon them in an elegant flurry. Pale legs reach forth to catch himself, throwing up grass and dirt upon impact, and he jogged out the sting that spiked through his limbs in a familiar sensation. Approaching the two, he gallantly dipped his head to them, an easy smile stretching his handsome features. Ilaria crawls to his shoulder to peer around it, chittering down at Natraj in recognition before casting her warm brown eyes to the young progeny of Gaucho. Cera flared his wings to shake the ghost of wind from them, tucking them neatly at his sides a moment later as he danced into their conversation somewhat sheepishly.

"My apologies for my tardiness, Gaucho's quest and Ampere's efforts for the Sun celebration held me. Have I missed anything of import?" Had he missed something, Cera would feel genuinely regretful, especially after shielding Amani so carefully on their previous patrol. Leaving the two alone had made him shudder with fear as it was, unfounded though it may have been. They were more than capable of defending themselves, but the Golden Prince always shouldered the burden of worry more than he should.

Had Cera known his presence would cause such a disturbance, he never would have rushed to meet up with them. Tandavi's parting question lingered in his ears, even as the silence wore on. Where had Sohalia gone, indeed? She had left behind her children, her mate, her herd. Cera had a foul view of abandonment, considering the amount of times he'd been subjected to it. When people left, they never seemed to care about those they left behind. He was always the one remaining, faithful. He was always the one watching their backs grow smaller on a horizon he could never follow them into. He had grown accustomed to the bitter taste of loneliness, the peculiar tang of being left behind and forgotten. His heart surged with a sudden protective love for the colt beside him, though in that moment he seemed to be having some sort of anxiety attack in Cera's presence. Even the sudden realization that Tandavi has the magic to aid him in his quest cannot quell the sudden flare of sympathy for young Rhoa.

There would always be time for the patrol. Gaucho did not have to do, and was not around to be aware. Cera could break the rules just once.

He turned to Rhoa, lowering his head to the growing youth with sincere emerald eyes that sought out the gaze rooted on the ground. It was clearly an answer to Tandavi's last question, and that killed Cera inside.

"I miss my mother too," he admitted softly. Though it was not just he and Rhoa, if being sincere and opening up the closet to reveal his skeletons then he would suffer multiple people witnessing his weakness. A sad smile creased his lips. "I can't even remember her face. I never knew her name. She left me in the Dragon's Throat when I was barely weaned, and I never saw her again." He took a moment to simply breathe, to clench his eyes shut against the tears that loved to come hand-in-hand with the topic. "I was starving, and tired, and lonely. I didn't know anybody, and nobody paid me any attention. Nobody looked twice at me, assuming my mother was a Throat member and had to be around somewhere. I didn't learn to speak, I was lonely and felt like my life could never get any better." It hurt, it hurt so bad to rip open the sutures he'd made with an unsteady hand on his heart in order to heal the young boy before him, but it was a selfless act. If he could ease Rhoa's mind, he would break his own legs retrieving his errant mother.

"But, when I thought everything was lost, and that nobody cared for me...Midas found me. He took me under his wing, he loved me, and he never shamed me for my lack of knowledge when it came to speech. It was a hard road. I was ashamed by my inability to talk, I felt like I was a failure. How could anybody love me? Respect me? My father was brilliant, a sun in his own right, and I was just...I was just a stain. A mistake." He still felt that way, but that wasn't the message he wanted to impart on Rhoa. He wanted to give the young stallion hope, show him that he too could rise from the depths to be someone important. He could find love. A place to fit in. He, too, could finally feel comfortable in his own skin.

"Midas wasn't around much. But I clung to it. He found love in what was once the Foothills, and I was separated from my brother and sister for many seasons because he was too stubborn to leave. I felt lonely and betrayed. And when the Gods called upon him? He answered without question, doing what his family had begged him to do for seasons." Realizing he had gone off into a mild tangent, once again delving into deeper, darker thoughts that would not help Gaucho's son, he clamped down on it and kicked it back into the box labeled 'Do Not Open' in his mind. "But everything turned out okay. I found my brother and sister again. I was promoted, I made friends, I found purpose and life beyond those who had abandoned me. And let me tell you something, Rhoa."

"Your mother was my mentor for many moons. She is kind, and her heart is as gold as my father's eyes. Her love is strong and unwavering. Wherever she is, I do not believe she went willingly. And even if she did?" Cera stepped closer, hoping Rhoa would not reject him as his voice went quiet, intense. "Even if she left you willingly, Rhoa, and even if it hurts so bad you can barely breathe, you will never really be alone. You do not have to be held back by it. It's okay, to hurt. To miss her. To be angry. But I will always be here for you, if you need me. I do not doubt Tandavi would swear the same." He glanced over his shoulder, the arch of his wings, and smiled weakly at Tandavi. Her spirit glowed as strong as the pyre she tended.

"And I will always be here if you need me, Rhoa. I promise you." It was hardly a whisper, meant for his ears rather than Tandavi's. Cera would remain in that clearing for hours if it meant Rhoa felt better, patrol be damned. Cera would not make the same mistake his father did. He would not abandon those who needed love and encouragement in favor of militaristic achievement. He'd sooner thrust a spike into his heart than leave Rhoa to suffer, feeling like he was alone and abandoned.