Ice has done a lovely job in forming over her heart and soul, placing a barrier against her and the world. Hobgoblin’s personality only fortifies it more. Blue eyes are tired and broken, tempted to allow Cera back into her world with open arms, just as he attempts to do with a single wing, prepared to greet her with what she expects to be trust and caring words that she’d long believed to be banished from this God forsaken world.
Red irises embedded deep in the Rougarou’s scaled, silver head are hard, set with suspicion. Wings collect along his side once they’re removed from their defensive position, shuffling with a long hiss at the stallion’s approach. Cera has yet to win him over, and with the weight that he is subjected to bare, there is no chance of that in this very moment. Sia whimpers beneath him when his talons grapple her chocolate mane, having found her honey hide, tucked into hiding by her dreadlocked hair. Blood slithers from the cuts.
She is built up to be scared and harsh, bitter and hateful because the world has shaped her in such a brutal fashion that there is no other way that she can imagine herself being, pictured almost perfectly when his approach is repelled, backing up with her tail tucked between her legs and ears pulled down in fear. Fuel is added to the flames when she is left to question all of his motives. Does he still want me as a friend? Hobgoblin feels something in response to her worries, but whatever it is, the feeling he bares between the two of them is so fleeting and secluded that she can’t find the words to define it.
She merely guesses he wants nothing to do with Cera. Rejecting him for what he’s done, how he’s treated her and how neglected, abandoned, worthless she’s felt in all of the time that she's been alone and forgotten, every bit of his suggestion feels correct, given that it has enough evidence to back it up. It appeared as if Cera only wanted her for healing when he was wounded and friendship through her sunny days, but never the rainy days where the world was crashing down around her. When she had been there to aid in shouldering his pain, to assure him that he had importance in this world beyond what his eyes could see, he repaid her by tossing her aside as if she was an old ragdoll that could be quickly replaced by a newer version. It gave her an empty world, ridiculed with storms of depression and wildfires of anxiety, driven by the fact her personal worth is only seen through the work she selfishlessly does regardless of illness and broken hearts, not by the love and affection she tries to give infinitely to her friends, those whom she calls family without a second thought as of if they think of her as the same.
She is but a pawn in their world, unknown and worthless to the other herds, just another face in the crowd that is meant to serve selflessly in exchange of safety, food and a home instead of love, friendship, and family.
A mocking chirp flutters from around her ears, looking up to see Cera’s green eyes downcast to the sand, far from her view. She doesn’t blame him, nor does she punish her companion for intending to insult the boy’s feelings even more.
Stone-cold sapphires meet youthful emeralds, ears brought forth to listen to what he’s got to say. It’s a right now. They’re both so deep into one another's presence and tied by a possibly dead friendship that denying him his right to ask for forgiveness would be worthy of the title of a sin.
“Sia ignore bastard. Bastard no deserve forgiveness.”
The motives line up again, but she is not that cruel of a person. A saint must keep their vows even in the depths of hell as they burn and are tempted by their inner demons.
Every bit of her tells her to forgive when they shared the same fate at the same time, to get over the fact that he had those willing to help him when she had no one but herself, too embarrassed to ask for help and too worried of becoming someone’s burden.
Silence drags out over them like a plague following his apology. Sikeax breaks it with a sigh, closing baby blues with her pale, sand-clotted lashes dancing with the descent of her eyelids. Curiosity flickers in a fire of hatred like a burning piece of paper, quick to disappear in the fray. A low squeak whispers from the Wyvern’s jaws in an attempt to win her over with affection.
“No deserve pity. No deserve friendship. Bastard worthless.”
Hobgoblin’s honesty is cruel but she can’t seem to find a way to listen to it. He’ll call her weak in the future for it, though for now, she can bare the weight of her heart and attempt to make due with what little trust she has left over.
“You’re the first one in forever to seek me out, probably the only one in the herd that I’m aware of who's cared to notice. It’d be childish and selfish to assault you verbally when you’ve come to apologize and have gave me enough to understand why you weren’t around.” Especially when I needed you most. I would of been nothing more than a burden to your pain.
She tries to gather enough strength to look him in the eyes while her heart feels like a half ton boulder placed on her chest. If she was younger, she might of cried, but all of her tears have run dry these days. “I guess your efforts are enough to show maybe you still see me as a friend when many don’t.” Half of her entire soul peels out a growl to her. It runs a shiver down her spine because it’s felt like years since he’s last threatened her so visibly.
“If we’re both able to make up for time lost, I’d like to accept your apology and try to become friends again.”
There's nothing else left to give him except time and her trust, pushed by hope that runs off the miracle of an idea that things might get better if they both try hard enough.

OOC: Why have you got to give me feels? Seriously bro I feel like every time we thread these two together I get feels

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

Sikeax;

i'm missing the beauty in your soul