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.