Cera
_{Words are only painted fire; a look is the fire itself}

Wind howls across the bloody sands, a storm too strong to be natural, too sudden to be warranted. It batters his body and draws his eyes towards the gathering of darkness. It has a source, expands outwards as if drawing everyone to the core of it, and a sick wave of deja vu claws through his chest like a screeching, wounded animal. He remembers the wind that tore at his wings and slammed him bodily into the ground like a broken doll; the shapeless wind spirit that had injured both him and his father. Air had refused to enter his lungs, and he had nearly broken his wings saving Ilaria from death that day. What had been a lively jaunt to ease the troubles of two burdened minds had become a terrifying and painful experience. Had it not been in these very same lands, as well? And suddenly his heart is sinking to the very earth he stands on, because what if it is going to hurt one of his herd members? Before he can so much as contemplate the dangers of this task, he is running, sprinting across the sand on long legs that pound the earth and yet kiss it so fleetingly. There is a loyalty in his flesh, carved lovingly into his heart. He remembers the terrifying drop from the heavens, the agonizing clash with the earth, and yet it does nothing but spur him on. Uncaring of the fact it could happen again, or even end up worse; all he knows is that he must save whoever is targeted today, because even nameless to him he loves them, will die for them, and the stubborn little soul upon his shoulders is in fierce agreement with him.

They would do it. Together.

He lifts from the earth like an archangel, the downward stroke of his wings so powerful the tips touch and sand billows beneath him. Striking into the air he pumps his wings as fast as physically possible, foam and sweat gathering on his flanks and beading on his neck as he huffs softly with each push forward. Instead of wasting time rising higher, he skims over the earth about the height of a normal equine, and when the storm winds reach him as he gets closer he rides the currents higher.

They come into sight, but barely, as he struggles in the winds that whip around him. One is pale and frail, the other large and dark. And then it hits his aurals, the voice of a bird crying out in their language, bidding them reveal their darkest secrets. Hatred so rarely felt by someone like him wells inside his stomach and boils there, because all he can remember is what that damn wind spirit did to Fina last time, and he will not let it happen again. He drops like a stone, Ilaria clinging to his mane trustingly as he curls his wings inward. They are closer to the two on the ground, now, but the winds buffet them, and his athletic frame is tossed to and fro with the strength of them.

"DON'T DO IT!" He screams it down to them from the sky, emeralds eyes ablaze with passionate fire, determined to sacrifice himself before they are ever put in harm's way. "DON'T TRUST IT, DON'T SPEAK!" And, realizing he may have easily enraged the spirit...thing, phoenix, he didn't care, being in the sky likely wasn't the smartest thing he could do. Hang on, Illy. Ilaria responded by clenching her claws into his mane even harder, and he tipped his head towards the earth and let his wings curl into his stomach.

Freefall.

Cera can't land safely until he escapes the roiling winds high off the sands, but the time frame between injury and safe landing is small. And so he closes his eyes, and hears his father's voice in his head, echoing from a day long ago. "The torrents warm and cool in different ways, your eyes will not be able to foresee this…instead your wings must feel it. Trust your inner voice to give instruction on when to shift, when to beat." It had been the primary lesson that had given him such great aerodynamic abilities. Cera's instincts while in the air were brilliant, and they had saved his life multiple times. So now, he relaxed, slowing the wild beat of his heart, and felt the air currents.

Sight would only hinder him now.

And he feels it- the drop in pressure, the sudden release from the torrent of wind above him, and it is like elysium. All at once he has that split moment to react, and he does so like an explosion, ripping his forehalf up and snapping his wings out, eyes still shut as he was jerked to a sharp halt at the sudden parachute-effect. Landing heavily on the sands in front of the other two, he raised his eyes to them and gave a boyish smile. "Well that was fun," he chuckled, before his face sobered.

"My father and I were pulled into a hurricane by a monster like this one, and it nearly killed not only the both of us but our companions as well. My father's companion is a firebird, a phoenix, just like that one. Do not trust it, tell it nothing!" His voice was clipped, and Ilaria gave a sharp bark from his shoulders, giving her voice to his words in her own version of agreement. Turning he faces the phoenix, being torn away by invisible demons, and finds he can give her no sympathy. "Secrets are meant to be such, foul bird! YOU WILL NOT HARM MY FAMILY AGAIN!!" It is a roar, mighty and fierce, and though it does not belong to his race it is fitting nonetheless as it explodes from his lean frame.

Again he turns to the other too, fierce and unbroken, the scar upon his chest a banner of courage and strength. Of presence. He is here, will always remain here until death pulled him under. Even then, his memory would live on, and he would guard these sands forever from the afterlife. "Let it grow, it is too weak to envelop the Throat, it will never outdo us. We are mighty, so let it bluster. Let them drag her away, she is a teller of fate and death. We are here, standing, and alive. We have no use for her ways of sorcery, for our God is mightier, our land is stronger, and she will never take what our patron protects! The light of his land, our spirits!" Uncaring of the fact he may seem crazy for what he says, he spreads his wings wide, face burning and alive.

Let her burn to ashes, she would never touch his brethren, not without killing him first.