The simple sight of Cera’s brightened face lifted his tired spirit. Physical aches didn’t flee entirely, but they were wistfully muted. The cherub gave great joy to his heart, and he thanked the lord each and every day. His foal was intelligent and kind spirited. With each passing day he could see the changes of a gangly young colt shifting into something more, feathers lengthening to prune baby foliage away; soon, Cera would be a proud stallion, with the world across his back. But, for now, innocence remained ever in place. The youth stared up at him with love and deep rooted affection; budding feelings were met with equal attention, and pride.

Their muzzles touched, igniting senses to sample familiar smells and warmth. He knew what was coming, head angled up as sandy jaws parted to bombard him with new ponderings. Midas welcomed questions with open arms and listened patiently as his father did so long ago, "I waited," a hint of accomplishment lingered and a coltish smile of his own plastered its way across, "Can you come with today?" He realized that the age for exploring was coming up, either he would have to take Cera across boarders and show the lad around in the distant lands or find the painted cream doing so himself. It was for this reason Midas had taken off for the rest of the day and tomorrow.

“No,” he replied softly, “I need rest for now,” knowing disappointment firsthand Midas added lightly, “Let no whisper of trouble find my ears for you, and when I wake a little later,” it was an unneeded warning he knew, because Cera was always well behaved. Playfully he lowered skull to tug the shortened mane along his son’s neck gently, “I’ll take you outside the Throat, and we can travel into Thistle Meadow.” He figured the Meadow would be a good consolation prize.

Cera inspected his body, first with gaze and then testing butt of face against coal colored shoulder. Cranium angled with curious eyes following, "You tired? People saying bad things, I don't understand. You go to war now instead of borders? Different job? What is war?" gaze widened slightly with brows falling to narrow at the subject of question. It seemed nothing could be silenced in his home, even the ears of their youth were prey to the grim news. Lies and reassurance would not be given, he dared not grant his youth false hope that had the potential of being shattered to pieces.

“Cera,” he started gently, smile gone and lingering in its place was a tightly knitted frown, “It is a different job,” swallowing a sigh he continued, “and the gossip you have heard is truth,” limbs tensed and pushed the ebony stud forward with aim to draw them away from the sun and into shadowing shade, “myself and many others will be joining our wingless brethren on the battle field in five day’s time,” tone still bore soft marks that he always had, but the open worry lingered across it like a ruffled page. Midas had no reason to hide his feelings on matter; battle would take him away from Cera’s side, perhaps permanently if he was to fail. Legs curled beneath him, the air was cool already from the lingering chill of winter. The shade of a palm stretched out from above.

OOC: it was a joy to read <'3. Hope you get feeling better