Nothing seemed to have changed after Cera had inquired whether Gaucho would kill him. His heart was still sore and broken, bleeding down the insides of his chest. Each hoof dragged through the sand, leaving furrows reminiscent to the ones etched into his soul. Why did everyone say that he could move on? That this wasn’t impossible to heal from? They couldn’t possibly understand. They couldn’t even pretend to know what Cera was suffering through. A wound could only be widened so many times before there was no more flesh to work with, after all. He had his scars to bear, both physical and mental. They gazed upon them as if each were a mere mirage, a fixation of the imagination. Nobody ever cared to really consider them, to pair them with his young age and wonder at the trials he had surely gone through to be unfairly awarded those badges of survival. Bandages and gauze could not fix what was left of him, in his opinion. There was no horizon left. He had been shot from the air and was left flightless, helpless, as the world spun and spun and spun around him. All that was left was to wait for the shattering, the blissful end, as he hit the ground.

”Cera!”

It rang at him like a fighter’s bell, tugging on his ears and shrieking inside until the forger winced with the weight of the unspoken command. Just like the gulls on the beach, always a demand. Come. Come. Come. Blunted teeth ground together, eyes a flash of verdant green and frustration. How long did they think they could order him about, draw on his strength and kindness, before he snapped? Before he withered away? Anger, at least, was a better emotion to experience than the agonizing numbness. It was like a spark of hope, desperate though it was. For a moment, he considered disobeying. The caller was clear to him, a voice he’d only really met twice, but distinguished nonetheless. And still, he contemplated turning and going the other way. Two roads diverged before him, both in mind and body. Would he chase that desperate, pitiful spark of something that had flared in the challenge of her voice? Or would he let himself slip back into apathy, into the shell that would keep him safe?

The world out there, the one Ampere proposed to show him, it was so painful. So bitter. Why would he want to throw himself to the wolves again? Why would he want to experience the rending and tearing of their teeth again?

Perhaps he was a masochist, he decided. For his leg struck out across the sand, tentative, in the direction of her battle cry. All his life he had somehow gotten back up, struggled to stand on shattered knees even as broken cries for mercy were uttered on his bloodied lips. He ruminated on the fact that he wouldn’t be much of a fight. Would she be disappointed in him? Cera laughed darkly to himself, dull eyes dropping from the horizon where she stood, a formidable teacher promising relief through the medium of pain. Weren’t they all disappointed in him, anyways? As he moved closer, Ilaria snarled her support, but Cera mentally shook his head. She reluctantly moved from his shoulders, scampering away across the sands to watch the battle from afar. Safe. Protected. Cera couldn’t lose anybody else. He just…couldn’t. Even Ampere couldn’t bring him back from that ledge, if it ever came to fruition.

Moving closer to her, hooves dragging ever on through the sand, he tried to match the shushing tempo of his breaths to the waves on the beach. Tried to take himself far away from his mind, be the machine. Wasn’t that what she wanted? To make him stronger, so that he wasn’t so useless anymore? He stood before her, restless with his desire to move, but still nonetheless. Cera looked upon her with empty eyes, but his stance widened. Wings loosened until they were half-open, a cat’s tail preparing to aid him through the reassurance of escape and balance. He had come to her call. It didn’t mean he had to fight, merely defend. Cera had been a punching bag too many times. Getting out of the mindset would be a challenge, but maybe, somewhere deep inside, a part of him sang out to the blue. Please help me. Save me.

@[Ampere]

{736/800} && {0/3}

First attack goes to Ampere!