Even as far west as Cera had ventured, the sun's scorching crusade had not faltered. Though he was bred and born in the desert regions of the Dragon's Throat, even Cera's fair skin could not withstand his Lord's power for long. Traveling by air had kept the heat from latching on too deeply, but grounded as he was in that moment, Cera felt as though he would melt through his hooves at any moment. The cries of the sea birds echoed across the vast, empty beach as if laughing at his plight. Only the hot breeze that swept across the water kept them aloft, and the Prince's wings ached with the desire to join them once more. His lithe body was made for the air, and he desired to race them across the foam of cresting waves. Energy seemed to haze inside him, a static screen of prickling need with no direction or available outlet. Even Ilaria was not around to help distract him or offer any suggestions. He was alone, blending into the sun-shot whiteness of the sand as he paced the harder-packed sand near the waves. 

The cries of the gulls are silenced by a piercing scream, a challenge that silences the prey as naturally as a stalking jaguar does in the forest. Cera's hide shivers in conflicted excitement and dread, recalling Misael's echoing call sounding much the same, and the broken wing he had suffered in their battle. Verdant eyes slitted against the sun and the glare from the water, head revolving slowly to place the challenger. It was no easy task, with how the figure was so naturally camouflaged by their surroundings. Cera could only hope his own sandy-spotted pelt would award him the same advantage. And it was only as he thought that that Cera realized he intended to answer the call. 

Both times previous to that moment, Cera's spars had ended in total disaster. Horrors that lived in the shadows of his mind had resurfaced to drag him back to the pits of remembrance, and instead of fighting chivalrously and with honor, he had degenerated into a wild thing that fought only for survival and blood. He trusted himself slightly more after his fight with Misael, but the trepidation in his heart was not extinguished as he lifted his pale lips to the sky and returned his sand-brother's call. 

Water splashed against his hocks as he loped down the water, wings tucked tight, preserving his energy. Caneo, his mind supplies as the pale bodice emerges onto the same strip of sand, the contrast of darkened earth and bloodless coat revealing his target. The comfort of knowing he is not engaging with a stranger brings a grin to the Prince's lips, adrenaline pairing with the restless static in his blood like a caffeine kick to the heart. Long legs stand him equal with Caneo, but he does not fear the older stallion running and testing the differences in their speed, not when he had so clearly called for an opponent. 

With a thought his armor emerges from his leg brace, ivory and silver surely gleaming obnoxiously as it slid into a perfect fit against his skin. Cera launched himself towards Caneo, not caring where he hit but shoving his right shoulder forward to try and slam the stallion off-center or into the water. His wings could help him escape if he needed to, so long as what had happened with Misael did not occur once more. With that reminder Cera tucked his wings in ever tighter, eyes and teeth flashing as he tried to grab skin wherever he could, whether his shoulder had connected or not. 

And for once did not worry about succumbing to his demons. 

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Words: {622/800}
Attack: {1/3}