In the time it took to get from the meadow to the Foothills, Cera had pushed his body at the fastest speed he could manage. Flying had been conquered, and though he was not an aerial master with tricks and fighting, he could push himself to speeds that even shocked him. He supposed that had to do with how large his wings were- seeming to prefer his age over his size- and how thin his body was. Normally he didn't race this fast, even on the days when he did it to train himself for stamina. No, today this mad break-neck speed was achieved because of total emotional turmoil. He had just faced the coldest face of his father, with freezing words that still cut his emotional hide like a whip. It had not been Midas, of course, but the imitation had been a perfect replica. Cassiopeia, too, had been a perfect model of the mare she was not. Cera was horrified, confused, and wounded far deeper than he had ever dreamed he was able to be. The insults slung so easily at him had crushed his tender heart, despite knowing the real Midas would never say such disparaging things. So, in his panic, Cera had pressed his body to the maximum in order to get to the one person who could possibly understand the severity of these words and still comfort him.

Hototo.

The handsome prince of the earth was like a brother to Cera; considered to be so in every way but blood. Even their parents were together! But Cera had forged a deep bond with the shy, awkward colt early on in life. They had learned to fly together, played together, confided and laughed together. Cera trusted no other like he trusted Hototo, and loved no other similarly. So when he realized with gut-wrenching horror that he could not face the real Midas after that encounter, the first name in his head had been Hototo's. He needed comfort. A shoulder to cry on, an ear to lend his worries. Hototo loved Midas just as Cera loved him, and the prince was the only one who could possibly conceive how painful it was to see cold eyes that did not warm with recognition. To hear slander and disgust in a tone that was once paternal and loving. Even if someone else had understood, Cera would still go to his brother first. He loved him deeply and surely, as a tree loves the earth and knows it will always be there. They were river and rock, song and melody, earth and sky. Forever a part of each other, and yet unique on their own. Cera needed him more than Midas for once in his life.

By the time the Foothills were in his reach, he was a mess. Sweat soaked his body, darkening his flanks, neck, and shoulders. Wing muscles quivered, and he dropped in altitude at random when he could no longer press himself forth. Foam gathered and flecked off, accumulating faster the longer he went. Thin chest rattled and wheezed. Nostrils flared wide until the pink was sharp and alarming, whites of his eyes visible and scared. Exhaustion clung to him, and later on he would look back and wonder how in the world he had managed such a reckless flight. Nothing short of the gods could have kept him going at that point, so beaten was his body, but somehow he had done it. In all his grace in flight any other time, Cera cared little for how he appeared as he descended towards the home of the earthly prince. Ilaria clung tight to his mane, preparing for a rocky landing, and Fina- still ruffled from their encounter with someone who looked like her bonded but was not- peered down with sharp crystal eyes that meant she was worried. She did not show it in a way that any others would recognize, but Cera cherished her and knew her every habit. Did he recognize it with the state he was in? Of course not.

Like a stone he dropped through the trees, careening and hardly able to control himself with how exhausted he was. Mane was whipped and crazy, falling in a mess around him. He probably looked like someone hunted- frazzled, terrified, drenched in sweat and clearly manic if he was the one to push such a pace. So as he descended, he knew the landing was going to hurt like hell. And, sure enough, it was. His wings failed him, his body giving out, and he crumpled. Harshly he hit the earth, pale hooves sending jarring pain up his limbs. Stumbling with the speed of his fall, he went into a skid, and ended up collapsing and rolling from his knees over and over on his back and around. Instantly his fear went to Ilaria, but she was relatively unharmed after being cast from his shoulders. Overhead, from where he had crashed through the canopy of the trees, broken branches still fell after him in a flurry of leaves half-dead from Orangemoon. There were large scars in the earth from where he had come crashing down at speeds that should have broken his legs had it been even the tiniest bit faster. Midas would have a heart attack to see him so reckless, but even the thought of his caring father nearly had Cera crying once more.

Oh wait, he had never stopped.

Cheeks were wet and stained, chest heaving not only to replace oxygen but to support his sobs. Everything burned. Everything hurt. He nearly relished in the agony of it all, but his heart hurt far worse. Already his voice rose in a sharp cry, a cacophony of pain and terror. "Toto! Hototo! Please! I need you!" He was trying and failing to get to his feet, rising and falling over and over again as if he had just been born. Like a dove with a broken wing he attempted to use his wings to rise, but they fluttered weakly at his sides, unable to help. Legs shook and sent him crashing over and over, and his voice was cracked with how his throat ached and chest burned. But he never stopped, a voice that was only just deepening with his passage into the stage of a yearling bellowing out in cracked desperation for the adolescent he shared his summer turn with. Ilaria had returned to his side even as he continued to try and stand, remaining earthbound for fear he would send her falling again in his desperate attempts. Fina perched overhead, eyes sharp and body large with the anger she was feeling, the rage she would unleash on anyone who tried to harm the child she was in charge of. Was it dangerous to be hollering and screaming, clearly defenseless, in the home of mercenaries? Perhaps, but Cera had been to the Foothills multiple times, and didn't know this fear. This land meant family: Hototo, Ktulu, Ophelia. With these people who knew him, he did not fear as much as any other would. So instead he lay on his right side, accompanying wing stretched out helplessly along the grass. He could stand, nor kneel, no longer. And, quietly crying, he waited anxiously for someone- hopefully Hototo- to come and help him. He had not the strength to deal with this, nor the wisdom. In his heart, he swore to seek out Grandfather Earth and ask if what he had found was merely a trick of magic, or if something far darker had taken over his world.

::ooc- This is for Hototo/Boom first, and after a while and they have spoken other Grey members can come to either help or fetch Midas/Send Messages/Send Cera home <3