Cera
_{When you miss me close your eyes, I may be far but never gone}

With Sikeax's ascension to Sultana, and her iron-fisted will regarding the training of the medics beneath her, there is nobody for Cera to turn to when he is in need of healing now. He is careful to avoid his daughter as best he can, to spare her the sight of the gore that still litters his thin frame. He prays she will never have the nightmares he had as a colt, watching his father return from war, never sure if he'd see the Gallant on the horizon again. If he would be left alone, orphaned for the second time in his life. Even if she will cry and whine when they reunite over his avoidance of her, she will forget in time. It will be meaningless in the grand scheme of keeping her innocence in tact, gently cover her beautiful eyes with his scarred and bloodied hands, whispering into her ear that the world was good and beautiful even as he watched it burn from his own hollowed eyes. 

But the world spins on, and his injuries cannot be tended to and catered after. Patrols must go on. Metal must be forged. And though he fears more and more for his sight as each hour and day goes by that he can hardly bear to open it, he lurches against the collar around his neck, dragging the weight of his knowledge behind him even as it strangles him. The only benefit is that his wounded demeanor and physicality keeps everyone else far away from him, not wanting to talk to him about what happened when they already heard the vague news of what transpired between he and Sohalia. Already dealing with the throes of their own grief as it was. So instead he flies, because he can't stand to be shackled to the earth below him. To force a nod to those he passes on the borders, hiding his eye the best he can. He hates how he caused such a rift in his family, and while he and Sohalia were working on mending it...his temper had never escaped his tender grasp before, and he was left unsure how to handle the fallout. 

A distraction comes in the force of a bellow across the waters, and Cera scans the horizon, almost hoping someone else is closer. That he doesn't have to encounter a stranger looking like the omega of a wolf pack, beaten and shackled. It is not how he wants to portray the Throat. But he can at least fly by and check, right? He didn't necessarily have to stop, surely someone else would be around by then. But as he crossed the waters on wide angel wings, his stomach dropped to his hooves to see Mercutio's familiar blue grullo hide against the pale backdrop of grey-washed sand. For a moment he wants to turn on swift wing and leave him, incapable of crossing the waters alone. But the other part of him that remembered the evening he'd spent with Mercutio, laughing and playing in the water, tugs insistently in his stomach. Like a string being pulled, drawing him back to Mercutio helplessly. 

He hardly even knows the stallion. Cera's past is just as unknown to the unicorn standing down below, waiting for him, just as he had promised. And Cera's heart gives in with that reminder, Mercutio's promise ringing in his ears like a distant bell. He descends, tired limbs weak as he limps towards the royal stallion. Even as he prepares himself for Mercutio's reaction to his appearance, he can't help the small smile that builds on his pale lips. Mercutio was infectious, capable of making Cera smile even when he didn't feel like he had anything left to be happy about. 

"You came," he notes with joyful warmth, edging closer to him. Normally Cera would offer his soft muzzle in greeting, but it is still partially stained with blood that he could not properly wash off when Ilaria would not help him - punishment for his idiocy, and for leaving her behind to pursue said idiocy. Her healing talent could only do so much, after all. And she would happily saddle him with the affliction of persistent flies and itchy skin beneath dried blood if it meant teaching him a lesson. "I know, doesn't look as beautiful with this storm heading our way," he laughed apologetically, his one good eye crinkling sheepishly. Maybe Mercutio would cross the bridge and explore the Throat with Cera? His stomach squirmed happily at the thought.

Cera
_{When you miss me close your eyes, I may be far but never gone}

In the turbulent storms of Cera's recent life, Mercutio is shelter and comfort. He is the eye of the storm, where Cera finds peace and joy in the snatches of moments the two have together. Even if it means he must step forth back into the storm the minute his paladin releases the hold he has on the Prince. It's worth it if only to see that charming smile, to feel genuine laughter bubble in his throat for a few moments longer. Mercutio was the umbrella Cera huddled beneath, painted yellow like the sun to fool the Golden into thinking everything was sunny and bright once more. But here, with Cera decorated in the war colors of his own blood, Mercutio does not smile. Cera's trembling lips falter to see the stallion's crinkled face, fearing the worst. Afraid that instead of worrying for Cera's health, Mercutio is instead being shown the discord happening in this herd that the Prince had been wanting so badly to convince him to join. That he is misrepresenting the herd he has lived in all his life. Or, somehow worse (for Cera has never loved anything more than his herd, until now), that Mercutio doesn't care.

But as the stallion retreats, puzzled by Cera's smile, the Prince realizes that he had just been clinical. That Cera is surprising him now, with the kindness and joy he's expressing in the midst of all this pain. Cera can't help the small laugh that he tries to muffle at seeing Mercutio's surprised expression, fondness crinkling the corners of his eyes as weight lifts from his heart like a soft sigh. It's no grand affair, what Mercutio does for him. There is no drama, no excitement. No momentous shifting of the burden from Cera's shoulders. It's easy, it's peaceful. Mercutio simply...looks at him, and it's like everything else falls away. Because Cera just wants to unravel this complicated man, maybe even wants to be unraveled himself, and he doesn't know why. 

Cera's grin is some hybrid of sheepishness and foolish adoration at Mercutio's disbelieving laughter. He can't help the boldness that swells within him and he hums as if thinking deeply over the grullo's words. "Hmmm, guess that means you shouldn't leave me alone then, huh?" A sassy smile plays on his pale lips, and he can almost hear Ilaria's gleeful laughter even with her being miles away. Though it was quickly wiped from his face as the stallion took charge (and no he wouldn't admit how his skin crawled and prickled with warmth at that) and hustled him into the frigid water. Cera grit his teeth against the cold, giving Mercutio his best puppy eyes with only one of them really working. 

"This wasn't my idea of a nice date, though you may have been confused considering our last meeting," he murmured through chattering teeth with a little snicker. It was easier to flirt than focus on how he was unbearably hot even in the cold water just listening to Mercutio's smooth, deep voice hum softly at his ears. Cera had never understood the tale of temptation until he'd met this man. Oh but thank the Gods for their deliverance of free will because Cera fully intended to utilize it and send himself spiraling down into the abyss of lasciviousness that Mercutio represented. Maren bless his soul. 

"I don't think so," he replied softly in answer to Mercutio's question, but the nervous warble of his voice belied his fear that he had. He winced at the cold water but Mercutio was right as always, and he could feel the salt slowly making its way into the wound and cleansing it - even if it hurt like a bitch, making the golden paint hiss through his teeth uncomfortably. But the knight knew the discomfort that would come, had even warned him, and distracted the Prince sufficiently with his question. Even if it made Cera go still, the wound on his soul still too fresh to remember as he cast his good eye down to where their knees sank into the water. Incapable of looking at Mercutio when he confessed. 

"A...friend, actually, though the term is tentative at best any longer." Even if Sohalia had explained, it didn't really change anything, and there hadn't been enough time to heal and reconnect yet. "It was I who was the monster in this scenario, Mercutio. Truly you shouldn't be helping me," he confessed with tight, purposefully emotionless voice. What would Mercutio think of him after this? If he ever heard the full story? "She...hurt me, very badly. Abandoned all of us, and came back with trumpets blaring and nobody even questioned why she did it twice. Why she slept with another stallion, why she abandoned her daughter in another herdland, why she didn't come home in the first place." A huff escaped his nostrils, frustrated now to imagine all of it over again. 

"I was just so furious, that she wouldn't even apologize or explain herself. That she thought she was too damn good to repent. I was already in a rage over something else, a coward who would not face me on the battlefield, and I...well, I suppose you can imagine the rest." Voice fell soft and hushed at the end, ashamed of his own inflamed emotions and volatile reaction in the wake of everything. Fearful that Mercutio would not like him as much (and what a childish thought that was) to know that Cera was not as sunny and kind as he may have thought. That Cera was a fighter, a killer, just as much as he was a creator and a healer. 

Mercutio may call him Sunshine, but the term applied better to the stormy man than it could to Cera, recently.