The idea of a blood thirsty but otherwise harmless gourd is honestly the best news Cera has heard all morning. In fact it's downright cheerful, and he can't help his own bubbling laughter at the idea of Melita's little food companion being tamed. Certainly if anyone could manage such a feat it would be the little spitfire. "I'm sure I shouldn't find the idea amusing but they sound like an adorable sort of creature, in a violent way," he chortles helplessly.
Still, to know Melita was a young woman, likely not far from the age of this physical body he inhabited, was still a rocking revelation. How had she grown? Had any of her physical features transfered over? Had any of his? Cera jolted slightly as he realized that he had absolutely no idea what he looked like, aside from the shade of his skin on his hands and the long blond hair that draped over his shoulders. His scars had transferred at least. What else?
Startlement across the link gives him enough of a pause from his thoughts, and he smiles softly over at Jigano. It had taken him a long time and the guidance of the God he worshiped to overcome that particular attack. Recalling how the times had changed, but also just how young he had been, made the father inside cringe with fear. How had his own father felt that day, carrying his dying son across his shoulders, praying for swiftness in step and slowness in the poison that sought Cera's life?
"We can only change as much as we allow ourselves," he agrees with a wry smile and a soft hum in his throat. Deimos was a foreign, omnipotent shadow in his history. Cera would never have registered on his radar, but the idea of running into him was still nerve wracking.
In the end, time is short and the hours before him are long. As the trees fall away and Isuma departs from his shoulder, Cera tries not to grieve their departure, already trying to hold onto this new connection with both hands in this strange world. But they will meet again, he knows this. Even Jigano states it hopefully across their connection. He turns to smile at the Raven and his companion, gratitude flowing strong from his own side. "Stay safe, Jigano," he pleads, though the man seems more than capable. Cera would still hate to see him hurt or captured. "Until next time!" He calls as he waves over his shoulder, striding forward towards the little dilapidated town. There will be a next time, he's sure of it.
Still, to know Melita was a young woman, likely not far from the age of this physical body he inhabited, was still a rocking revelation. How had she grown? Had any of her physical features transfered over? Had any of his? Cera jolted slightly as he realized that he had absolutely no idea what he looked like, aside from the shade of his skin on his hands and the long blond hair that draped over his shoulders. His scars had transferred at least. What else?
Startlement across the link gives him enough of a pause from his thoughts, and he smiles softly over at Jigano. It had taken him a long time and the guidance of the God he worshiped to overcome that particular attack. Recalling how the times had changed, but also just how young he had been, made the father inside cringe with fear. How had his own father felt that day, carrying his dying son across his shoulders, praying for swiftness in step and slowness in the poison that sought Cera's life?
"We can only change as much as we allow ourselves," he agrees with a wry smile and a soft hum in his throat. Deimos was a foreign, omnipotent shadow in his history. Cera would never have registered on his radar, but the idea of running into him was still nerve wracking.
In the end, time is short and the hours before him are long. As the trees fall away and Isuma departs from his shoulder, Cera tries not to grieve their departure, already trying to hold onto this new connection with both hands in this strange world. But they will meet again, he knows this. Even Jigano states it hopefully across their connection. He turns to smile at the Raven and his companion, gratitude flowing strong from his own side. "Stay safe, Jigano," he pleads, though the man seems more than capable. Cera would still hate to see him hurt or captured. "Until next time!" He calls as he waves over his shoulder, striding forward towards the little dilapidated town. There will be a next time, he's sure of it.
