Cera
_{I'm an angel with a shotgun, fighting till the war's won, and I don't care if heaven won't take me back}

It is a joyous morning. 

He awakens slowly, limbs happily tired from using his magic, the sun warm against his face and inviting as he opens his eyes. The sun is already climbing the sky, brilliant and hot against his skin as he stretched out his joints and rustles his wings. Ilaria is peering lazily down at him from her branch, fluffy tail floating in the few errant breezes that curl over the sands. Do we have any plans for today? he asks her as he lifts his wings to embrace the hot wind that buffets against him. No, she responds softly where she's sunning herself. Cera's smile is slow but sure as it crawls across his face, a half-formed plan budding in his mind. She huffs fondly at him, so full of love that it nearly hurts. Go, she says, and he obeys.

He lunges out across the sand, if only to feel the way the earth disappears beneath his hooves, the way the wind tugs and plays with his pale tresses. And his wings come up to his sides, embracing the currents, and he leaps into the air without a second of hesitation. He falls into the nothingness with total faith, swings higher as he pushes his body harder and farther, streaking up and up and up as if reaching for the sun itself. Glides high above, where the canyons and dunes stretch out before him, sapphire lapping at the edges and nothing can touch him. He can breathe, up here, nothing but cold wind and errant clouds to dive through to wet his feathers. Where he's nothing but a body, a spirit of the wind.

So he dives, remembering hurricanes and breakneck speeds, he and Fina racing to some unknown destination when life was simpler and Midas was always there to catch him when he fell. Lets the world spiral into a blur of blue and beige, closes his eyes against it, grinning so wide it hurts. Falls face first, tucked tight and streamlined, wings tight. Breaks out of it like an archangel rising from the ashes, a falcon across the sea, skimming sand dunes with his hooves instead of water. His heart races in his chest, pounding for freedom, and he follows the call to the clay lined shores. Kicks at the water as he flies, a pure and evanescent being, burning bright until his tinder is consumed. Laughs so loud and long his chest hurts, the wind ripping it free of his mouth and swallowing it up. 

Forgets every responsibility, every nightmare that lingers on the shores, and tries to remember what it was like to be a child again. 

Cera
_{I'm an angel with a shotgun, fighting till the war's won, and I don't care if heaven won't take me back}

The wind tousles his pale locks and he's laughing so hard he can't breathe, stolen from his mouth by playful breezes that whistle past him as he streaks across the sunlit ocean as free and untouched as a sea bird. His pulse pounds so heady in his ears that he can't think, and he's gasping for breath because this is the most alive he's felt in years. Skims back in a sharp bank, finding clay and letting his body touch down as light as a feather, racing down the shore and kicking up sand, hips twisting and bucking in careless play. Lifts back into the air on a sharp spiral, thrusting himself heavenbound and racing the sun. There is nothing to stop him, to chain him. He is boundless, all edges erased, exploding forth into being like a comet. Steadies himself only when he cannot stand the spinning, drifting on the sea breeze above. He's panting, but he's grinning so wide it hurts. After so many seasons of wishing for death, this is his celebration of life. A singular, focused mentality.

In his euphoria he nearly doesn't notice the dark shape on the coast, but it's one that is familiar to him. Catches his breath, eyes bright, and watches as Mesec...stands there. His heart is pulsing like the tempo to a dance he's swept up inside, and he remembers the paralleled haunted look to the moon boy's gaze. It was one he'd seen in his own eyes, for far too long. His mind is made before he even takes time to think about it, sweeps down with an arch of his massive wings and lets himself fall in a sharp downward slope, cantering hard as he lands in a spray of loose sand. Cera smiles wide, wings arching and spreading wide, sunlight filtering through the ivory feathers as he stands before Mesec. 

"Fly with me," he demands, grinning. Buffets his wings towards Mesec playfully, long thin limbs dancing in the sand and tail thrashing happily against his hocks. Dives forward in a herding motion, neck snaking low, hooves thrust forward in a sharp motion that halts his lunge and sprays up sand towards Mesec. Grin sharpens and eyes turn mischievous. Kicks forward to run past Mesec, snaps his teeth towards Mesec's mane in an attempt to jerk him sideways and then kicks himself into the air. 

Cera
_{I'm an angel with a shotgun, fighting till the war's won, and I don't care if heaven won't take me back}

Cera's grin seemed to prompt the continuation of Mesec's, and he felt like a foal once more, dancing about in the sand and snapping his teeth playfully to try and entice him into some sort of game. He'd never had consistent friends as a foal, but he'd found some sort of kinship in Mesec. A familiar old agony, or a loneliness. Though, at least Mesec had more than Cera did on that front. Still, there was something that called him to the moon boy, and he had never been one to deny himself on matters of the heart. Cera was as guileless as they came, and lying to himself was as severe a sin as lying to another. So instead he pivoted and laughed, buffeting his wings towards Mesec again, feeling the adrenaline and excitement hot in his blood. And there at last, Mesec's words, as playful as he felt in his heart and affirmative in his decision. 

He streaked forward, and it was a poetic sort of dance, Mesec's shadowy form streamlined behind Cera's pale and golden one. The sun and the moon, tumbling about in the sky like newly hatched chicks. The Prince laughed as he saw Mesec dip and spin in his peripheral vision, the slanting grin of his lips mischievous and taunting. His own wings dipped down, streaking down a few feet before snapping them back open and letting the wind toss him skyward once more. Mesec dove for him, and Cera almost shrieked with laughter, their wings kissing and figures flirting in a game of tag. For a second he faltered, hovered, so overcome with euphoria that he could hardly figure out what move he wanted to make next. But still, these rules were written deep into the concrete of his childhood, and he knew them well enough to fall in a spiral from his vantage point and let his wings take him towards Mesec. 

The golden child turned and gave chase, wings beating harder and knees tucking close to his frail chest, aiming to curve up and bump his shoulder against Mesec's right flank before turning and banking away. The wind whistled in his ears, and he reveled in the sun against his skin, Mesec's warmth brief but inclusive. They had no titles from up here, no worries or mistakes to try and forget. They had only the sky and air which cradled them in her womb, the sun to warm their feathers and give them light, the sand and surf to steady and remind them of things like home and surety. They were brothers here, blood and lineage cast aside and forgotten, reveling in each other's company to wash away the loneliness that seemed to plague the pair of them. Mesec wouldn't know that Cera, for all his life in the domain of the desert, felt just as misplaced sometimes as the moon boy did.

Cera snapped his wings wide, curling them inward, and let the wind fill them and stop his momentum, hoping to send Mesec flying out ahead of him. Grinned and winked at the silver-struck stallion, and fell backwards in a dizzying slew of tan and blue. Spun over his left wing and righted himself once more, letting the wind carry him towards the sea and the shallows that awaited him, a plan already forming inside his head.