In the flowing rivers of information gleaned and whittled from the suspicious townspeople, certain names and places glint like precious stones beneath shifting water. Clinics, guilds, shops...all categorized and neatly filed away in Cera's mind to be referred to at a later date. Until one such later date sneaks upon him, his boredom of the outskirt woods and his own simplistic lifestyle renewing his thirst for companionship and action.
Today he has chosen to tread upon two feet, rubbing chilled arms idly as he traverses the well-worn walkways. He has a goal, though it is vague and shapeless in its simplicity. The days he'd spent as a forger in his past life would not be remiss in this new one, but there was an ache near his heart where an empty bond lay that reminded him of other traits and skills. The times he could not protect his family with his own body and weaponry, when their hurts were merely something he had to witness and agonize over until someone else came to their aid.
Ilaria...it is hard to think of her name, but she had been the one blessed with the art of healing. He had envied her in many ways for her ability, and with the new start he had been awarded, Cera vowed to honor her memory by pursuing such arts.
That is how he ends up here, in front of a clinic...house...thing? Cera is far too much a creature of the woods and wilds to know the whys and hows of human construction. Still, he tries, and he learns more every day he spends in Caido. As he walks up to the door, tantalizing smells waft from within, and his stomach rumbles in betrayal. It brings a flush of embarrassment to his cheeks, but he lifts his hand to knock either way. Hopefully whoever was inside, as the name had not been passed on, would be able to help him start his life anew.
