Sikeax,

She shouldn’t. She barely feels it in herself to go, but Seoul expresses such an interest in it that she can’t deny letting the child have an idea of what herd life is like.
It’s not like she intends to return to that any time soon, regardless of the longing that her heart struggles through. Hobgoblin knows, and beaten down and worn by the path they’ve been carried down, more like dragged down, contained by their ankles with Hobgoblin having only enough fight for himself and Sikeax having nothing left to give but loyalty and simple hope, he can’t bring himself to beat her up for it, because have they not had enough of it already? They do though, manage to look presentable.
Some tired hour has been spent bathing Hobgoblin, who sits through in an oddly quiet fashion, barely moving as her tongue pulls portions of him either which way as she goes. What happened the last time they hung out in a herdland, an actual herdland, not the ruins of some abandoned place by a God who couldn’t uphold his followers, hasn’t left his head.
“Best not. Sia still not good. Sia still weak.”
“How am I still weak?” Her voice is eerily soft, laxed despite the clashing portions of anxiety brewing in their concoction of emotions. Seoul worries about what the festival will be like, not having any ideas of what to base off of it other than Sikeax’s offered memories dating back to the Sun festival in the Dragon’s Throat, Hobgoblin simply worrying for the collection of people and digging into Sikeax’s remainders of fear as his thoughts linger on her rejection, his use of her, and Sikeax? Sikeax fears everything but coaxes it into submission, putting her glowing flower crown on once Hobgoblin struggles through the process of assisting her in grooming and Seoul braiding her tail once more and pushes on, trying to be strong.
And by Gods if she looks it, barely smelling of sea salt, having laid in the pool in the Grove for so long that the water drank her signature smell, the paired glows of her horn and the flowers she always manages to make use of in these sort of events illuminating her facial features, worn down and tired with a dull, sunken look to her blues. Her coat is the cleanest it’s been in some time, which isn’t much seeing as Sikeax is typical to bi-daily, if not daily, bathing. Her tail is strung up with locks of hair coming down from beneath, pulling the whole of it together in small sections to meet in the middle, making a braid down the center. Seoul is particularly proud of that, being her work.
For Hobgoblin and Seoul, the pair match up with their bonded, Hobgoblin’s dark coat sleek and lacking any sort of blood in it from his hunts, similar collar of glowing flowers worn around his neck. As for the dragon, her personal upkeep is rather well for her age, cleanliness one of her top things, choosing to keep with her brother’s look with the flower collar.
Walking into the Aurora Basin, done up with little pride to carry with other than Seoul’s nervous yet excited attitude, Sikeax just likes to imagine that they at least come off as happy to be there, flashing a quiet, slim smile.
“We’re here.” Monotone and soft, spoken just loud enough that only Hobgoblin and Seoul will hear as she guides them down the main path.
Excitement bubbles up on cue as Seoul raises up on her hind legs, shoulders rising up as her wings ruffle their feathers, blue eyes looking for anything interesting. At the first sight of Amaris, the child simply ignites into awe, having never once thought that there could be a combination of dragon and horse. Loud, repetitive chattering follows suit, as well as some quick, blurred flashes of the mare in their heads just so they’ll know what all the excitement is about.
“Ugly.”
A slight scowl runs across her features at his thought only to quickly fade behind the fear of coming off wrong, the dragon luckily still too young to partake in the quiet brutality of their minds. Please don’t be rude, but Hobgoblin doesn’t make promises.
Surveying brings her to the most uncomfortable of positions, beginning to notice that everyone, or at least everyone she knows and cares some about, say Volterra, Rikyn, Astarot somewhat, as the colt is the obvious half-brother to her son, has paired off with others and quickly gone off into conversation. She could stop and think for a second as of what to do, but her anxiety(or is it Hobgoblin?) lets her know that’ll only make it worse, that people will know she has no one to spend time with.
Panic sinks in for a second. There are stands, but didn’t she come here to make some sort of attempt at socialization?
“Swim?”
It’s cold. There’s snow on the ground.
Hobgoblin tempts her with the change of skin. Don’t. Groans ring in the back of her head but she’s powerless to stop him. Seoul’s general feeling of excitement still hangs in the air.
“Food?”
Huh?
“Food.”
An image of a long stone adorned with all manners of food comes in, tainted with a slight touch of disappointment as Hobgoblin notes there is nothing meat-wise.
“You’ll live.” She leans down to tell him with some reassurance, noting that they could always look for something to eat in the Basin by hunting.
Picking what to eat is the only true difficult part, feeling uncomfortable as the short seconds tick by, thinking. Thankfully, Seoul is the one to make that decision, quickly expressing more than enough interest on the apples.
So, with a shrug of her shoulders, Sikeax wastes no more time in taking one, not paying attention to her companion as the dragon assures that she has one as well, clutching it in her small grasp as the weight of it makes flying a tad bit more difficult.
Let’s go ahead and get this over with, spoken to Hobgoblin under the assurance of secrecy as she heads off in the direction of the dance floor, the bitter, off-taste of that one apple burning her tongue and the back of her throat.

OOC: Hobgoblin is in his serval form, and for an idea of what Seoul looks like, ref idea

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