Cera was not one to leave a debt unpaid. Too many years guiding lost souls into safety, sharing his wisdom and comfort, had left him with the yearning to continue such endeavors no matter the realm he ended up in. In many ways he us blessed to be as adaptable as he is after facing years of change and upheaval. In others, it leads to situations like, well...this.
He's traveling through the outer lands of the Spire when he hears the shouting, large ears pricked and sensitive to the decibel of sound that rises in panic and distress. From the snippets he catches of the accented words, whoever has just arrived is much more disoriented than Cera had been. His stiltlike legs carry him swiftly across the leaf-riddled earth, urgency digging its talons into his muscles and yanking him along. There's little time to waste, if the man is not alone then he's not the only one in need of help.
He shifts before he reveals himself, the man yelling seems distraught enough and Cera doesn't want to set him off. But he approaches with his hands bare and at each side, trying to appear as unobtrusive and harmless as possible. "Hey, it's okay, let's calm down alright?" he speaks softly but firmly, ready and willing to try and take control of the situation. His verdant eyes fall to the bloodied garments on one of the men, and he steps a little closer, hoping to draw his attention. "Sir, you are wounded. I am a medic, will you let me attend to you while we all figure things out?" He uses his healer voice, keeping it soft and comforting, hoping to draw the frenetic energy away from the man's mind.
He seems ancient in time and dress, and Cera knows firsthand the confusion of that. With a glance of his eyes he gently inclines his chin at Ezra, hoping to signal for the man to move further away. "My name is Cera, can you tell me yours?" If he could get him calmed and talking, perhaps they could figure things out.
He's traveling through the outer lands of the Spire when he hears the shouting, large ears pricked and sensitive to the decibel of sound that rises in panic and distress. From the snippets he catches of the accented words, whoever has just arrived is much more disoriented than Cera had been. His stiltlike legs carry him swiftly across the leaf-riddled earth, urgency digging its talons into his muscles and yanking him along. There's little time to waste, if the man is not alone then he's not the only one in need of help.
He shifts before he reveals himself, the man yelling seems distraught enough and Cera doesn't want to set him off. But he approaches with his hands bare and at each side, trying to appear as unobtrusive and harmless as possible. "Hey, it's okay, let's calm down alright?" he speaks softly but firmly, ready and willing to try and take control of the situation. His verdant eyes fall to the bloodied garments on one of the men, and he steps a little closer, hoping to draw his attention. "Sir, you are wounded. I am a medic, will you let me attend to you while we all figure things out?" He uses his healer voice, keeping it soft and comforting, hoping to draw the frenetic energy away from the man's mind.
He seems ancient in time and dress, and Cera knows firsthand the confusion of that. With a glance of his eyes he gently inclines his chin at Ezra, hoping to signal for the man to move further away. "My name is Cera, can you tell me yours?" If he could get him calmed and talking, perhaps they could figure things out.
Cera
The worst in me could bring out the best in you
