Sikeax,

Ice has now begun the long process of shielding her heart again. Its touch is brought on by the fact that she is becoming scared to trust all over again, rooted back into the same place.
Amara.
Amara had attempted to kill her. Amara had threatened her blood to cover all of her hands, dripping from her jaws like foam upon the rabid wolf’s mouth as he causes and kills his own kind, working without mercy when his brain is liquefied and concocted into a brew that tastes of hate and smells of unbridled rage. A brew that Hobgoblin had once burst his very life from, but time had a great way of changing things. Amara’s rotting body, a corpse with all the attributes of a living being, had been made all over again, once more without intention.
And this time, Sikeax couldn’t hold herself accountable for all of it. Amara had chosen all of this, or had at least done nothing to work with it, to heal herself.
Through guilt, she does find a way to believe that it is her fault. Too faint of heart, too easy to believe that all the vices of the world begin with her. All of this built from one small sentence, meaningless to others but a thousand pounds placed atop her chest without thought as of it might affect her in the future.
"Look what you've done to me!"
Amara’s distorted and mangled body hangs in her eyes, replaying the movie where Amara's jaws look as if they'll become unhinged at any second, caught on repeat because the tape has been messed up by someone's careless and ignorant hands so that she is suffer to the most.
“All of this, all Monster’s fault. Monster brought this on herself.”
Hobgoblin force feeds her the truth with the same brutish manner that she’s learned to accept and love regardless of how he wields its blade against her. She’d done the same for Amara, once, in the past when she wasn’t ready to see her friend fall to pieces, but as the tears creeping from the golden lakes within the chestnut mare’s skull turn into waterfalls that work to whisk away the blood to show a blurred glimpse of someone who used to be there, one of the fingers that had laced itself about her heart with the intentions of icing it over like Frostfall does to the northern ocean, dives straight into the depths of wounds piled up and tears never shed.
Buried beneath all of those sources of pain and suffering, lies all the memories of those whom she’s caused agony to. Cera, who could easily take the gold medal as the softest and most loving creature she knew despite all of the things in this world, who faced death with courage she’d never be able to comprehend, just for her. How she had just treated Amar-
Words are whimpering from the other’s cracked and bleeding lips. Deep down, she can feel the need, the lust to strike out and destroy her once for all, so that Amara will finally pay for her sins against the world. The list grows longer and the voice that reads off each and every one of them is Hobgoblin, the tied part of her soul that shows her what she could of been, what she could be if she let herself go and face the world with a stone face and ice heart.
The finger dives deeper and hits a vein.
Hatred subsides, but her brother makes the sane choice to sip from the cauldron and down the entire thing. A barbed tail swings with such violence that Sikeax winces as the blade point strikes her frail skin. Lips curl and release across teeth made of scalpels, snapping back and forth as if invisible strings are tightening to hold them up to flash his teeth but cannot withstand the weight. He snarls like a dog, fueled by the pleasure in seeing the beast own up to all in its path of destruction and true purpose in life. And here to think he considered her weak, when aside from all of her useless humanities, the Monster had the capacity to view his ways without the drag of kindness.
He could think of what it could be like to be bonded to it, but his throne would have to be fought for. Sikeax was easily to force into submission, but the fire in her heart now was strong enough to let her take a seat just once, to let her see what it’s like to rule before throwing her back into the peasantry as a slave to his existence.
Sikeax is too far caught up in conversation and listening with respect to pay attention to his thoughts.
“Let Monster join. Monster need home so Monster will be better.”
Young, white eyes go without blinking as the smaller, winged horse cries. He doesn’t know how to get his mouth to work or how to get his thoughts made into words and out. His mother has all the answers and he has all the questions, yet with no way to voice them. Even while tears should frighten him away, encourage him to have some sort of sympathy like his mother would like, he can do nothing else than watch. The untitled life-giver is speaking slurs once more.
To himself, he wonders ‘Does everyone have to feel this way? Do I have to feel this way?’
A search proceeds with nothing at the end. Another empty tunnel with no prize inside except for the fact that the tears and disgusting, distorted noises make him want to avoid the winged horse. The sounds that spew out are making him sick.
“You’re not stupid.” Her voice is hot and muddy, trudging through her throat like she’ll never get out the words she’s not supposed to say because this is a fight, something where you intentionally hurt one another, but she lacks the abilities to do such a thing. She’d taken an oath to ensure that the mental and physical health of others was taken care of, that others would be okay regardless of how she felt about them. Healers do not let others suffer due to their own selfish emotions.
“Does everyone else need to come before you? Do you not care for yourself? Do you see yourself a piece of shit that someone steps in along their path, makes a disgusted face about, and attempts to carry on even though they’re raging instead from their sudden misfortune? You make yourself look at that way, and if you keep that up, you’ll never get better.”
“That how you see yourself.”
The warlord works to remove her from the the throne beginning now. Mental torture was all that he could offer in his size but it was something he had learned to do particularly well, specializing in ransacking Sikeax with no mercy until she let him have control.
Best of all? She’d never own up to out of fear of what would come.
Shut up.
“Have you cared to ask Sameira what occurs during those times? Have you not tried to even help yourself? Living here gives the ability to have people watch over you as those things occur so that we know how to treat them. Living within the Throat would offer you a better chance at life, at healing, at having family and people who care about you. You’re blind when you think that others don’t care for you when they do, you just choose to make yourself believe they wouldn’t touch you.” Disgust flares over her features once more. “But maybe that’s what you deserve. People get tired of trying to help when all their efforts are slammed into their face like shit picked up off the ground, smeared while the other says there’s no hope for them. It makes them believe that you don’t want to helped.”
Zhu presses into her legs, rubbing one ear against her as the constant distortions push into him into suffering. If only he could voice his problem.
The comforting touch that runs along his spine marking is gifted to him from his mother’s velvet muzzle, whimpering in hopes she’ll understand that something is wrong.
While she comforts her child, she is given the chance to see that Amara’s wounds are far enough down her legs to be self-inflicted. The Gods might of even granted her a gift with this.
If Amara could be coaxed into the Dragon’s Throat, then she could have a warrior stay with her long enough to see what went on when she wasn’t around. “Do you ever care to even use logic and think that the blood upon your weapons is your own?”
What a stupid idea with false hopes.
Annoyance chooses to aid in her snorting, pushing hot air into Amara when eye contact isn’t met. Respect is demanded, expected at all times during this because she expects the feeling to being equal. Hobgoblin urges her onward. “Look me in the eyes. If you want respect, you need to figure out how to mix it together with your emotions. You’re only encouraging others to walk all over you.” She shouldn’t have to be treating her this way, but it only furthers the idea that Amara is nothing more than a child in her eyes.
“If you want out of your situation, you have to grow up and work your way out of it with help.”
A low purr of pleasure drums inside her brother’s chest.
“Perfection is not real, but you can change your perception of yourself through effort and reach it, and make yourself perfect in your own eyes once you’re happy with who you are.”
Gold meets sapphire, interlocking into a stare that tempts her to smile, but locks the feeling beneath her cold eyes. They melt only faintly, enough that she feels she can accept the conversation of this.
The feeling of discomfort grows with each passing word. Hobgoblin’s curiosity rises in the back of her head and she can feel the unspoken need to question what she had done, but in a desperate state, she hopes she doesn’t have to fall into begging. The act itself was embarrassing enough, and the guilt that Amara wasted no time in strangling her with was simply too much.
“Amara, no.” A short “hmm???” floats through her brain like an airplane crosses unflown skies. It even brings another jump from Zhu, acting as if he’ll burst from his skin when her voice is unusually harsh and loud, even for his ears. The whimpering and whining increases, now pushing himself into begging for something.
Try as she may to comfort him with all of her hope and love, it can’t fix his ears.
“This isn’t something I wish to talk about.”
Amara’s temptations make her stomach roll, holding in the feelings that tell her to use her friend.
That would be selfish, wouldn’t it?
“Monster need to be used. Monster is weak. Monster is below you, below us.”
A sigh gets the lumps out of her throat at last, grabbing them with burning fingers made of molten steel and tearing them out when their place there was maybe supposed to be welcome, but instead had been greeted with embarrassment and suffering.
“I don’t take anything like that. That’s how I had Zhu. You choose what you want and I’ll accept it.”
“Should’ve taken advantage.”
Like the dark side she never intended to bare, he is there, encouraging into his world.

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