Something so known to me, sunlight oh sunlight // All of your love is sunlight
Large ears shiver and twitch at the sound of his soft voice, and it brings a smile to Cera's full lips. At least the little creature doesn't startle and scamper away, which is a minor win for the young man. He watches with bated breath as the small, furred body tentatively crawls closer to the proffered food in his palm. It's like time seems to slow, a small victory, an act of kindness in motion that fills his breast with warmth. The smallest actions often had the largest rippling effects after all.
Tiny, dexterous paws grasp one of the berries and brings it up off his skin, devouring it with gusto. Even that would have been enough, to know the small creature had gotten a fresher morsel for the day, but the breath in his throat hitches as the mouse climbs boldly into his cupped hand. "There you go, isn't that better than some old vegetables?" he says quietly, unable to help his golden smile. The little paws tickle against his skin, but he holds as still as he can, letting the mouse gorge itself on whatever selection it desires.
Already the mouse has his attention when it sits up and peers imperiously at him, so he doesn't jerk when a voice presses into his head. His fingers twitch the barest amount, but Cera laughs softly regardless at the insolent words.
"I certainly wouldn't be surprised to be bitten with how you're devouring that," he teases back, voice still dropped quietly. It had become apparent during his brief traveling with Smith that in human form, he could not respond telepathically. He pulls on a faux affronted look, though his emerald eyes still glitter with amusement. "And I'm certainly no old man! How old are you anyway?" It's an underhanded trick, teasing the little spitfire into revealing the information, but his manner of speech alone makes Cera worried for his age and the stability of his life.
He'd had nieces, nephews, a...a daughter, once. Little ones had always seemed to flock to him, and he'd taken them in with open arms and open heart, as his adopted father once had. Paying it forward, he would call it, if he didn't love them all so dearly. It had never been a burden, winning over their trust and seeing them grow. He wanted to ask where the (suspected) child's family was, whether he had a home, why he was scavenging - though that was perhaps the easiest question to answer. Clearly the little mouse Attuned did not have a steady source of food, and that was...concerning. But he had a feeling asking those questions in general was going to be a battle with the child's already apparent personality, and asking them so soon after meeting him would likely be disastrous.
Tiny, dexterous paws grasp one of the berries and brings it up off his skin, devouring it with gusto. Even that would have been enough, to know the small creature had gotten a fresher morsel for the day, but the breath in his throat hitches as the mouse climbs boldly into his cupped hand. "There you go, isn't that better than some old vegetables?" he says quietly, unable to help his golden smile. The little paws tickle against his skin, but he holds as still as he can, letting the mouse gorge itself on whatever selection it desires.
Already the mouse has his attention when it sits up and peers imperiously at him, so he doesn't jerk when a voice presses into his head. His fingers twitch the barest amount, but Cera laughs softly regardless at the insolent words.
"I certainly wouldn't be surprised to be bitten with how you're devouring that," he teases back, voice still dropped quietly. It had become apparent during his brief traveling with Smith that in human form, he could not respond telepathically. He pulls on a faux affronted look, though his emerald eyes still glitter with amusement. "And I'm certainly no old man! How old are you anyway?" It's an underhanded trick, teasing the little spitfire into revealing the information, but his manner of speech alone makes Cera worried for his age and the stability of his life.
He'd had nieces, nephews, a...a daughter, once. Little ones had always seemed to flock to him, and he'd taken them in with open arms and open heart, as his adopted father once had. Paying it forward, he would call it, if he didn't love them all so dearly. It had never been a burden, winning over their trust and seeing them grow. He wanted to ask where the (suspected) child's family was, whether he had a home, why he was scavenging - though that was perhaps the easiest question to answer. Clearly the little mouse Attuned did not have a steady source of food, and that was...concerning. But he had a feeling asking those questions in general was going to be a battle with the child's already apparent personality, and asking them so soon after meeting him would likely be disastrous.
