They had threatened, but never fell to the souls below. The heat had become a thing that the world seemed to beg for freedom and relief from with no success. She'd taken time to pray to the Gods, though it left her feeling odd and unnatural. Sand had caked upon her skin when she bathed into the ocean. There was no savior and she was beginning to feel the true effect of her first real Birdsong. The one set in her past was still bathed inside of endless night.
Now, the sunlight is harsh and she finds that time back then a simpler time. It burns into her hide, burns her skin. Her desperate attempt at rolling in the mud did nothing for her, and when she found herself within the shallow pool beside the structure that stood with grace and glamour, it had only begun to leave her body.
Her eyelids grew heavy, body relaxing into a state that she loved beyond understand. There had been times in the past that she questioned if she was meant to be a fish, having gone through some sort of terrible mishap that landed her back into this life. A sigh breaks her and explains her current position of annoyance to the world.
Above, they are still threatening her. Hidden beneath the shade of trees and encased in the cool feeling of water, the herbs threaded into her mane made to be used in their respective purposes, make attempts to flee her. The feathers within her mane cling with some sort of vengenace. When she moves to place her right side on the incline of the creek bed, they hold to her as if their life was to depend on them. She imagines them leaving her, finding a way to escape and leading a life without. She can't make a complaint when the world allows others to go and she refuses to move with the rest.
In the past, the times that she had a full set of memories, she could of been more than eager to leave the rest behind and to set forth, ready to take on the world and fight what monsters that might be out there. Now, her heart wraps itself in barbed wire and tears holes in her rib cage as it goes deeper and deeper into the pit of stomach. What do they call this? Depression? The thought of it happening to her in the past is almost as unbelieveable as that the world existed without sunlight, without the Moon and the stars for such an extended period of time that inhabitants should of dropped dead of stravation. And yet, it still happened with such casual attitude as the rainstorms that happened with each season.
Thunder hits the sky and her eyes shoot up faster than they have before. Once placed against the surface of the water, her head rises up, hair dripping with fleeing beads of water. It hits again and she watches with a blank expression as lightning explodes the sky like a bomb going off.
Rain drops fall and she pulls herself back, presenting a noise of discomfort as one lands into her opened eyes.

OOC: Oh, I typed this up so fast and I doubt it's my best, but I tried!

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

Harsh at first, like a lover with violent tendencies attempting to be kind, the rain finds a peace that allows it to soothe it's anger and relax it's tensed muscles. Lightning shatters the sky and thunder stomps it's feet as if to be a child within a tantrum. All the noise that it offers fills her ears to their breaking points and drowns what else tries to enter. A voice that would be welcomed with open arms and warm hearts cannot make entrance.
Water tosses, she attributes it to being the wraith of the storm unleashing fury to what it is. She's patient in the process of waiting for it to calm, knowing that it would be nothing but just around the bend and there would be serenity, a chance at resting and finding thoughts that could let her breathe a sigh of relief.
Instead, there was no relief coming. It rises and hits her side, slapping her across the face in such an abusive manner that it forces her to lift her head into the air, facing the stinging sensation of raindrops shifting to become thrown knives and illuminated in what is not the low glow of her horn, instead being the explosion of lightning in the sky. Within it all, she catches figures moving towards her.
There should of been better lighting that day. If there had been, she would of easily known who was there, would of reacted in the fashion that should of been used for how her feelings towards Amara were at the moment. Yet because of the lighting, the storm, the pain that the world was more than willing to inflict upon her and the feeling of a heavy heart confused in a sea of suffering, the moment that a touch was placed, she recoiled faster than an injured animal with a history of abuse.
What image came to her and the voice that passed through her thoughts when she recognized was one that should of never been there from the start. It was Amara, yes, her best friend, but now the image of the winged female was nothing but a walking corpse attempting to kill her. A bolt of unseen lightning struck fear and terror into her and sent her to her feet.
The touch placed to her face, to her shoulder, to whatever part of her body had been caressed, burned mentally with pain when physically it was not there. Her stomach recoiled, instantly knotting itself and leaving her in a state of disgust she'd never come to know until this point in time.
In all of her emotions, she fought the rest of the world existed. Standing face to face with her friend, it was easier to see that her friend was all but the normal one that she had known, not the corpse that spoke and moved like a freak of nature and an insult to Death.
"No! Don't. Touch. Me."
They were harsh, taking straight to their purpose in what Sikeax had experienced in the time since she finally awoke to a nightmare and missing memories she was more than desperate to have returned to her. Fury, hatred, agony, it all floods through her veins faster than she can handle it, stepping back into deeper waters when the rain finds a calmer state and the water is nothing but settling with a confused state of mind. She almost falls but having spent so much of her time bound to the water, she's fast to find footing again while driving herself away from what she still see's Amara as.
A monster.
"You're a monster! You're the reason I'm like this! You're the reason I can't stand to take another breath and want to die!"
Somewhere along the line of her yelling, her voice falls weak and sobs coat her throat again. Any of sort of relief that Africa and Sacre had given her in the past Moon fell worthless and used to the floor.
"Do you know what you did to me, you walking corpse, you insult to Death and to all of reality?! I have no memory because of you. Do you know what that feels like? To not know what you've done in the past and having to find out that you tried to kill someone you care about? It's a sick feeling to know it, and you're to blame."
Truthfully, maybe all along, all she wanted was someone to blame her pain and misery on. Amara had come to her first, come to her looking in such a way that would scar her mentally more than watching your parents be murdered before you(as if Sikeax even cared for Adrixaura and Roy: Adrixaura was nothing but a major bitch, and again, like he would always do, Roy had left her alone again to fend for herself.), having made herself the perfect candidate to be the one to take the blame. Now all that was left was to put the blame on the one who needed it put on them.

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

Mental pain could never be physical pain: a stab to the chest with the usage of a real knife is felt, but the stab to the heart and mind with a said knife is one that cripples and wounds, lacking the ability to kill and cause bloodshed. You can't die from a mental stab wound, but you can make yourself die if it is painful enough.
The one who has received blame clearly didn't want it, was in denial, or was suffering memory loss. Too busy stumbling across her words to find the right thing to say, to see if Amara remembers stepping forth as a corpse and threatening to kill her, Sikeax let's her jaw hang and the words repeatedly take punches to everything that is so weak.
In every bit of reality, she's an abused creature, mainly from her parents, in how they neglected her, but her mind can't take the idea. She's in denial. Neglect turns to mental and emotional abuse, hurt feelings, fear, and depression that was sent to her from Amara, or at least Tamara had kickstarted the chain effect.
"You don't even remember what you did, do you? How beautiful, for you not to remember me laying in the cold snow and you a walking corpse, a fucking dead animal, threatening that you're going to kill me? You did it to me, and I did it to you, as you said.
In all truth, as hateful as it might be, it was the only sensible thing she'd spoken. The storm overhead released lightning, crackling like the Devil who was listening into one hell of juicy fight between two life-long best friends. Howling, adding more to the weather enjoying the sight at hand, the wind sent her soaked hair into her face and strung like scorpions.
"They left when you tried to kill me. That's where they've gone." Everything to her body is aggressive, her voice rough and threatening, her teeth bared when she speaks, ears pinned to the back of her head. She snorts, shaking her head and waving her horn with it, physically putting a warning of 'I'll use it if it comes to it.' "You came to me when I was weak, and instead of offering help as I would of you, you had clear intentions to finish the job. You expect me to trust you after that?"
Her eyes become stones, staring deep into Amara. Why was it then that she wanted Amara to feel every bit of pain she had made her feel? Why did revenge, once so bitter, become sweet, welcome, something she felt she needed to do now?

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