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.