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 jaw worked for a moment as Maren spoke, his flaring emotions fighting against his normally level-headed personality, cranium dipping in a prayer for peace. This wasn't him. This outburst of anger and hotheadedness wasn't him. So why couldn't he control it? Why did he feel like the tangled, fraying threads were slipping through his rope-burned fingers? Did he simply not have the power to keep holding on? After all this time he could hold his tongue no longer, and instead of merely standing up for himself, years and years of bitterness came lashing out like magma across his barbed tongue. 

His one good eye turned to Maren with more calm, after a deep breath and an ear cocked towards her words. She didn't deserve this. Megaera, Sohalia, Ampere...they may deserve the heat of his anger, his abandonment, but Maren had never done any such thing to him. She was as loyal, steadfast, and pious as the Prince. And he would work hard to ensure he didn't lose her like the others. Like everyone else. 

"I'm not disagreeing with you. But if what the Throat is asking for is a loyal and steadfast leader, as that is what they're finding to be at fault in Sikeax, then I think it's wrong to promote to Sultana a mare who has left repeatedly. Those who are loyal in our ranks, you and I and many other hard-working Throat citizens, why are they not considered instead? Is their loyalty only rewarded with being overlooked for another season?" It was far gentler this time than the sharp-edged sword his tongue had unintentionally been previously, and his volume had decreased as well, not caring if others listened but finding this to be a conversation only the two of them cared about. Understood. 

Head shook with a wry smile. "It was never something I considered, being Sultan. That is not why I object, why I am bitter about all of this. I don't long for the title, even though it would be an honor to be Sultan - why wouldn't it be? But if I was destined for the role, the voices crying here would be saying my name. And I am fine with the fact that they are not." Cera didn't have grand dreams and desires of filling the shoes of both his fatherly figures. Maybe someday. But the fact that they didn't even think of him, or even Maren becoming Sultana, was offensive in its own way. 

Her hissed offense however had a twisted frown marring his features as he turned slowly to face her, frustration starting to appear on his cherubic features. "I'm giving room for those to speak who desire the floor. I am no coward, and I will not be called such," he spoke with a deep tremor to his voice that was not often present. 

"I have served the Throat since I was a child. Fetching metals for every Forger that came and went like the passing of the tides - never staying, never loyal. Before I was even old enough to be granted a title for my efforts. I was born and raised here on these sands. I have seen mighty leaders rule for entire cycles of seasons or just one. I have been here since the dawn and I will be here until the end. I will serve this land in whatever capacity she asks of me, and in whatever station He asks of me. But I will stand no longer for the loyalty of myself and those around me - those in fundamental ranks as you claimed - to be overlooked and taken for granted. For our council to never be asked for, our names never considered for more simply because we are reliable." His passion swelled the longer he spoke, and the rest of the group faded away until he was staring, emerald eye burning with spirit as he gazed directly at Maren. These words were only for her, and he crafted them for her alone. Whether they had any impact on those around the pair didn't matter because he wanted her to understand.

"One of the reasons Nephele's desire for Sultana was met with resistance is because of her inconsistency. So why Maren? Why are the supposedly fundamental ranks overlooked? Why does Hector try and take over your rank and call down our Lord? Why is our only other Artisan trying to claim the throne when Ranjiri is already gone, and I am the only metalworker left beside you if she is to become Sultana?" His tone rang hard like the pounding of a hammer against an anvil, ringing forth with the hum of a thousand singing voices beneath the tenor of his lyrics. 

Emerald eye glinted with bitterness. 

"Because nobody else considers them fundamental. They take it for granted, and they grasp greedily for every scrap of fame they can achieve, completely unaware of the realities of the position of a lead. Any child of a Sultan or Sultana can tell you of its impact. But all they see is glory. They don't see us." The heads of the ranks. The citizens. The realities of leadership. All they saw was fame and power. And Cera couldn't forgive that. Not when he and Maren and Sikeax and all the others had toiled for years and years. Never stopping, never doubting, never running away. And every time they were overlooked. It was so much more than what Maren thought he was angry about - Cera would have proudly been Sultan if they had wanted him to be. Just because he hadn't ever thought about becoming one didn't matter to him. What bothered him was how invisible the rest of them were to those of better bloodline, better words, better physical ability. 

Loyalty was never an asset they considered in the race for power.

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TLDR; Talks to Maren excessively lmao. You can hear him and comment on what he said if you want but it's mostly directed entirely at Maren