into the sea, you and me
all these years, and no one heard
i love you, let's go

Failure makes for a bitter taste in the back of the throat, one that you can’t exactly wash out regardless of drive and emotion. Today, it’s all she can taste, like the reminder that she isn’t good enough, that being a Sultana wasn’t meant for her future, that the crown doesn’t fit and past Cera’s ability to craft metal and the immense amount of dearness that she holds to him there is no way that she can have him mold it to her fitting.
Every grain of sand in her coat is like another boulder added to her, weight sinking deep into bones that whimper out pleas to let the body they hold up sink into the cold, dark stone below her. Hobgoblin's passion supports her. The rage she swore she'd never feel so strongly shouts encouragement into her ears until she cannot take anymore. The only thing that actually breaks the silence against the pattering of waves on cooling lava is the grinding of her teeth, but that's only something she can hear.
What remains of her God's shrine is but a crumbled mass of stone that, if she had been in better mind, would have described the state of her herd, the one that He gave her.
Against her wants. Against her will.
Hot bubbles of hatred burst in her. Hobgoblin's slender frame glides gracefully across the rough surface of what remains standing of the shrine, flexing claws in pleasure that Sikeax is, at last, finally feeling what he had always wished she would.
"Why?!" The single syllable bellows from her throat like a banshee's scream. She could have done this at the fire in the Throat, but she doesn't want them to know exactly how she feels.
It's not like any of them would care anyway.
"Why must you be such an idiot? Why must you pick me? WHY does it have to be me?!"
The walls of her throat ache at the brutality of her voice. Every nerve in her body screams for her muscles to lurch forward, to find something to throw herself into until she is no more and that the rage in her has subsided into whatever she becomes at the other side of this cooling night.
She can't, not yet. Stone will not bend to her will despite how hard she may try, and Sikeax, the only Sultana of the Dragon's Throat will not make a fool of herself.

OOC: OH BOY LOOK AT THIS SHIT NEVER BEFORE SEEN THERE IS AN OFFICIAL ZUNO IN THE BATTLEGROUNDS
Sia is hateful af and will literally kick anyone's ass right now. you'll probably just have to show up and be even the slightest nuisance to her for her to get angry.
also small shot at character development

Setting: Vein of the Gods at night, cool enough that steam comes out of the nostrils and shivering is possible but not super cold or warm. Clear sky, full moon. No wind. Sikeax is standing right in front of the Sun God shrine with her back turned away from the main land.
Hobgoblin is in his Serval form. For future note, his transformation time into a new body will take right around fifteen to twenty seconds and he'll have no magical control during it.

Attack: 0/3
WC: 407
Damage Tracker: 
Hobgoblin Form(for obvious reasons): Serval, doesn't change

only request is that whoever comes in be around her HP for the sake of not destroying her UNLESS it's someone she knows. if you want to hit me up on skype before replying for any reason i'd be cool with it!

please tag the motherfucking shit out of me please i beg