Nothing more than a gentle tap, a touch mothers use upon their newest young to guide them along, that sends haywire messages down the invisible thread that links her heart to the snow and cold air. Offering nothing more but relief, time to wallow in her own sickness of the heart and feel the burn of lost memories. Each memory spends time eating at her, the gap she holds unsettling, nerve-wracking, all the words to describe it, emptiness.
Truthfully, it must be unhealthy to hold such vast, wide open spaces for her young mind, and she, in every desperate attempt that's simple to understand, tries to fill that spot.
She fills the seconds with how the feathers came along. They came in some odd moment that left her with a band of birds. In her natural way, she gathered them in and took them with her. The now fading blood stains on the gold and black pair lie to this thought. She guesses those came in when she picked them up off the ground in a rude way. A faint memory of Adrixaura-and oh, how much she has come to miss the sweet scent of her mother and her warmth- telling her not to pick up items from the earth passes about her speeding thoughts. She was never much for listening to the black and white women, but now the idea of her mother's harsh voice is nothing but something that tries to bring her here more.
The world around the frozen caves smells of the Basin and something she can't remember. It touches her breath and bullies her nostrils in a bittersweet way that sends her heart hurdling down into pit more. It must lay somewhere cramped, it aches a painful wail.
They greet her in the exact way they had always done: blank stares that show they care not if her presence is here or not, watching with the deep shades of blue with motionless eyes with ears pushed out towards the world. A huff passes about her when her chest heaves hard.
"Home, sweet home."
She stinks of the scent of the Dragon's Throat, making this more of a lie.
Her pace is slow and collected, steady across the earth unaffected by the warming airs that would get one if they were to head south. The cool air that sweeps ghostly fingers across her honey coloured body, pulls back her locks and tosses them about. Her eyes shut briefly, shutting out the harshness of facing the confused elements.
With nothing but a whisper to herself, something about those that she knew but not understandable, her legs already beneath her and her belly grazing against the floor. She hits it with a sigh of relief, the thin glow of her horn igniting the walls and her reflection casted towards it.

@[Sacre]

If you could hear me then, can you hear me now?

Sorrow has already gone about settling to her system, ready to accept how she is in a state with no good to be seen when the feeling of eyes reach across the empty and touch her. Slow and steady, cold shiver trickle down her spine. They've gone ahead and burst to sparks when the voice that holds her name, something that is said a great many of times recently, hits her.
The process of gaining attention never seems to take long. Her sights turn around and welcome the sight of a boy who is almost a man standing behind her. He seems healthier, masculine, a man who looked prepared for the world.
"Hey, Sacre. How are you? It's been a long time."
Her legs question her brain if it would be best to stand and greet the dark colt. She's in firm belief that her body no longer carries enough will to be able to stand, to walk over and see the odd creature that left his body to stare at her growing heap on the floor. It's red body springs a bit of curiosity to her thoughts, but she thinks and remembers if she knows him later on, then she's likely to see that creature again.
"Would you like to join me? Your friend looks," She spares a brief moment to look at the thing one more time before finishing her sentence. "Curious."
She doesn't admit to him that she herself is curious as of who the animal is. Her hair shrouds the pain and misery that lingers about her eyes, the glow of her horn spreading soft light against her feathers. A part whispers low that maybe it is best to hide the feathers, to sweep them away where he could not question such odd changes in appearance. There is a lack of ability like the one that makes her want to rest more, to lay against the cold and mourn, to wither like flowers.
Relentless as the need is, her company halts the need of tears. It is best to try and offer a smile when there are none to be given. It hurts to crack it, try to place happiness against a dying face when she watches him stand there.
I'm sorry. The thought goes without definite direction, whether it is something directed to him or herself, it is unknown. More than ever, she uses it to place more hurt upon herself.

OOC: It's be lovely if you could. c:

@[Sacre]
If you could hear me then, can you hear me now?

Disgust piles into her, the feeling of sickness roaring into her stomach and settling with the harsh style that an ocean uses when the storm rages on and there is no relief. His words sting like bees in her hide. Every part of her begs for her to recoil and find a place to disappear to, hide and never return from what horrors he seems to speak about. Her mind still refuses to release the jailed section of her memory, to let her figure what he is saying and what they're supposed to mean to her. There are no tears to seep from her blues. She's gone ahead and used all that she's got on Amara, and if Sacre wished to throw pain towards her, then let it be so. She lacked the ability to care for his hate, if that is what was, only sweeping it away when the air hung cold between the walls of ice.
"How am I a monster, when my words are ones that show I still care about you? I cannot think of a single moment that I have been a monster, and if there was a time that I was, then my memories have hidden it away along with everything else. Explain, please, if you want, how I became to be 'strange and frightening' like you say I am."
The words are icy as the world around them. She's not hurt, instead pained and sick to her stomach with the feeling of her heart rotting within the confined spaces that her ribs hold in.
"I am no monster that you say I am. I am Sikeax, and I met you when we were still children, and that was the last time I recall ever seeing you. So tell me, what have I been missing, other than memories?"
Her stomach churns more, twisting into knots and leading to even more discomfort. A headache threatens to enter her, to plague her with more of the signs of a spring sickness, if anything. He spoke of someone named Deodat, and fingers grow within her mind and attempt to put a name to a face. She comes out empty-handed and stares to the little animal that stands beside him as if the name is the name of that creature.
Eyes move to bear into his skin, the dark coloured pelt she remembers just too well and one that is now making her hurt on the inside. Beneath, her body shifts and she stands, swaying against her own weight and legs threatening to release from underneath and send her to the floor again. Momentarily, her vision blurs, the different shades of colours that flash before her nothing but bothersome.
The headache kicks in as if it was on cue, ready for the right moment to make the appearance on the stage that the play is set. Oh, if she could vomit, she would of already done so.
All that she has it set towards him when she turns around, coming to face him and seeing that he looks more of a man that she could remember him being. It was time for her to begin counting her days to when she would be full grown, to when she would be able to escape the dark depths of youth and leave to be a new person without the control of adults.
"For whatever I've done to make you look at me like you are, I'm sorry for something I can't remember even doing."
@[Sacre]
If you could hear me then, can you hear me now?

Each word has the weight of a thousand planets, hanging in the air and settling down when they find the forbidden passage into her ears and escape into her mental state. Once more, everything is crashing down her and if the waterworks start now, then it's more than likely she'll find herself crying long after this.
The part of her that had been lost had been gone for the better. It seems easier to see the truth in her lost memories. Her mind had gone ahead and decided that her past was not enough for her, to lock it away under lock and key, and to pretend that she was never going to try to find that lost part. For the better, in every single way.
She shakes her head, acting as if this is her desperate attempt to brush away his words and accept the apology he had offered her. It was accepted the moment that he allowed it to be released. She could not hold anger towards someone who was giving her lost pieces and in a way, piecing her scattered puzzle pieces back together.
Deep down, the shake is nothing her but a scrambling try at relieving herself of believing his words, things such as decay, zombie, ones that seemed designed perfectly for her to lose her broken sanity and be shipped off to some state she didn't need to be in.
Like Amara.
Her eyes gaze upon him and she sighs, releasing breath that seems so tainted that her body refuses to keep hold of it. The concern on his face makes her worry as of his state, how he was thinking of her as she stood before him and having given him her best attempt at being angry towards anyone that wasn't Adrixaura. A pen prick hits her sinking heart and it might as well become a ship sinking as it filled with water.
"I don't remember any of that. I remember leaving the Dragon's Throat to find Amara in the Marsh, and nothing else from there out. I woke up, and she was what you said that I was. And yes, I have a home. I went back to the Dragon's Throat since I have no other place to go. Do you?"

OOC: So sorry, I tried Dx
@[Sacre]
If you could hear me then, can you hear me now?

Things came to settle between the two, shifting through the black dust that settled across their friendship and finding a way to bring out the good between the two. He wanted the Throat, her home, the last thing she had been expecting. Her legs had already been upon the duty of returning to the Wilds, to find a place within the trees and shrubs to sleep, to bask herself in the grace of cool waters in early Birdsong and sleep, only to awaken to gather herbs and return home with them. Plans shifted fast and while her heart, weaked and making use of her ribs to drag it's wounded body back into her chest, found a bit of hope in having someone that she could consider a friend in home with her.
There was always Africa, she reminds herself, but the single winged mare was more than likely to be caught in her own issues and not have the spare time that it took to spend time with a yearling.
Her pale eyes, tired, weak, lazy with the weight of wanting to return to some place there wasn't so much cramped space with other souls to squeeze in on her, took in his expression and saw that there was good in his need.
"I'll take you there. I don't know who Levi is, but I can take you there. It's a good way there, but I guess we could head home together now."
She brushes the slow pace of her voice out of her lips, pushing off the feeling of exhaustion to return home with her friend in tow. The joints within her legs ask her for relief, to sit within the cool air of the North and not be forced to bake within the heat of the Dragon's Throat. She can offer them no such relief now as her steps make her pass by him, only stopping at the opening of the cave system to stop and turn to him.
"Let's go, the faster we're there, the faster you can get accepted into the herd and the faster we can rest."
She should of changed her words to 'the faster than I can rest', but in the selfisheness that seems to surround those words, she sweeps it away and begins into the snow, feeling the sharp feeling of the cold being thrown against her pelt and running it's long fingers across her to send chills down her spine and rattling her bones.

OOC: I'll make a thread in the Throat for them in a minute and I'll tag you so he can be accepted.
@[Sacre]
If you could hear me then, can you hear me now?