Something so known to me, sunlight oh sunlight // All of your love is sunlight
Cera has to bite his lip against his own laughter as the little mouse squeaks while simultaneously shoving a fat berry in his cheeks. He's entirely convinced that the mouse is going to either give itself the hiccups with that manner of eating - can mice get hiccups? - or would simply gorge himself until he swelled up like a fuzzy balloon. String included. Still, as amusing as the thought is, it's undeniably nice to be able to help provide for the little thing.
Or at least it is until the little devil rears up on its hind legs and sasses back at him.
Nonetheless, Cera has to laugh. It reminds him so dearly of his children, wherever they may rest now, and it warms his heart in equal turns as it hurts. Fifteen, however, is a number far more concerning than his grief. Fifteen...it's a better age than any younger, but still far too young to be out on his own. And Cera knows that he is, his fatherly senses tingling away. Just like that, he knows he's going to do something impulsive and potentially stupid. But despite his own self-proclaimed stupidity in the face of children, he's aware enough to know he can't just spring it on the little mouse-boy immediately. He'd been a wandering orphan once. Cera knew how wary you had to be in that position.
"Ancient! Well, you're probably no taller in your human form than you are now, being fifteen!" he teases back in mock offense. "We wouldn't be strangers if you told me your name," he points out, smiling as he shifts his hands to better aid the mouse-boy in his efforts to get to the meat. Not that he expects the boy to divulge such personal information freely, so he offers his own first.
"My name is Cera. I have plenty more if you'd like to take some, or I can drop it off some ways from where you're staying? You wouldn't have to show me where," he clarifies, knowing what he's asking for is a lot. But even if the boy spurned his other advances and attempts, at least he could leave him with a mound of food that would hopefully last him a few weeks more. And if he knew a drop-off point...well he'd certainly make it a daily ritual whether the child liked it or not.
Or at least it is until the little devil rears up on its hind legs and sasses back at him.
Nonetheless, Cera has to laugh. It reminds him so dearly of his children, wherever they may rest now, and it warms his heart in equal turns as it hurts. Fifteen, however, is a number far more concerning than his grief. Fifteen...it's a better age than any younger, but still far too young to be out on his own. And Cera knows that he is, his fatherly senses tingling away. Just like that, he knows he's going to do something impulsive and potentially stupid. But despite his own self-proclaimed stupidity in the face of children, he's aware enough to know he can't just spring it on the little mouse-boy immediately. He'd been a wandering orphan once. Cera knew how wary you had to be in that position.
"Ancient! Well, you're probably no taller in your human form than you are now, being fifteen!" he teases back in mock offense. "We wouldn't be strangers if you told me your name," he points out, smiling as he shifts his hands to better aid the mouse-boy in his efforts to get to the meat. Not that he expects the boy to divulge such personal information freely, so he offers his own first.
"My name is Cera. I have plenty more if you'd like to take some, or I can drop it off some ways from where you're staying? You wouldn't have to show me where," he clarifies, knowing what he's asking for is a lot. But even if the boy spurned his other advances and attempts, at least he could leave him with a mound of food that would hopefully last him a few weeks more. And if he knew a drop-off point...well he'd certainly make it a daily ritual whether the child liked it or not.
