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All Welcome  - the ocean holding everything, tossing aside the weary

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Sikeax
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sikeax
" i hate to think about you with somebody else
but our love has gone cold
you're intertwining your soul with somebody else "

“I’m sorry.” The ocean sighs in return, sea foam creeping up the gradual slope of the sand and creating twin rings around her front hooves; only a kiss though, for the ocean drags them back out as fast as it brought them in. “I should’ve gone to you when I had the chance.” There’s not a response this time, even when she finds herself desperately searching out a voice in the back of her head that’s been long gone now.
No more snarky remarks, no more ‘love You’s,’ no one to keep her company when the world is dark and she knows she’d rather be lonely in the sea, deep somewhere no one is gonna touch her but the increasingly cool water and Hobgoblin’s sleek skin.
A long sigh makes her chest heave, lungs rattling the inside of their cage with their unease, already shaking out of fear.
I didn’t mean to lose you.
Nothing but silence and the sounds of the ocean to fill her ears up when Hobgoblin doesn’t snap back, and while she won’t bring herself to admit, her eyes have slipped slightly to the back to try and find him at her shoulder. Empty, another place that she's never gonna find a way to fill up again.  There is never going to be another soul that could take up that place correctly, that could ridicule her with the knowledge that it’s all meant in love and really, truly caring.
It’s not her chest that only shakes this time. It runs out across her entire body and holes up in the tears in her eyes, watching with her as the lift of her skull is gentle, the look in those downtrodden blues desperate but painfully hopeful as they search out a sliver of silver and dark grey, ears pricked forward with hopes of hearing a song, one that without this place has become so shockingly surreal.
In reality, it’s the most surreal thing she’s ever experienced. The culture looks at her as barbaric, ancient and backwards, her heart is clinging to dragons and children she’ll never see, creating a new crack for every time the thought of them crosses her mind.
“I loved you with every bit of my heart.” Water climbs. No one is there to tell Sikeax that if they’re gone, if Hobgoblin is gone, then maybe this world has been cruel enough to tear up her lungs and turn them what could be claimed as normal again, that the sea isn’t her’s to go to and nothing here will ever let her love them as such as she did the ones she lost.
She’s chest-deep and pushing when the wave strikes her chest, upstaging her footing so that she’ll fall, eaten up while the life in her lungs slowly flees. There’s never been something she’s been more ready for, so please come to imagine the horror and gut-wrenching heartbreak that comes in when she finds out that the air she’d once breathed so easily is clawing the walls of her throat with relentless torture, and under the surface there really isn’t Hobgoblin.
It’s only empty, some sea grass further out from her little spot under the sea. It holds her weightless, expression fixated to a slack jaw, sunken eyes and a looseness that simply consumes every muscle into her face till she is the definition of a long face, and I think this is here where the world finally breaks her. It sees the end of what had always been Sikeax, once accurately dubbed the Sea Soul, wholly broken.
Later on, it might be good to say that if you want to become something better and something new, you’ve got to reach the worst you’ve ever been. Sikeax is there right now, dying before her eventual resurrection towards hope despite the will to live sinking in her chest and drowning with her.
I wanted to die with you.
Reality is a freight train that runs her down with bright lights and a blaring horn, waking her up when the world is becoming steadily gentler and easier to accept. Drowning is supposed to be described as a growing feeling of weightlessness when the real seriousness of it starts to take affect, that going is quiet and soft like evening breezes and fading light, but for her, it was that from the start. Fantasy but welcome, loved and cherished because Sia had loved the sea and believed that it loved her as much as she did it that she came to believe it could never strike to her down.
Reality is, in this case, a blow to the chest, a sharp scrape of nails on her lungs that comes in at the same time of a perfectly timed punch. It’s memory and that far too human will to survive. It’s the fact that Hobgoblin would’ve wanted her to live, to try and find something to carry on for even if the world was coming down again, for if she’d been surrounded by strangers with a bloodlust for her own both alone and with him, then there is nothing telling her that she can’t persevere again.
Both of the hooves on her right happen to be the ones that find the bottom first, and instinct is there on the spot, spewing demands that she push. I don’t think she even remembers coming back up to the surface, full-frontal wailing trying to make an appearance while her entire body heaves to spew water back out. Her stumble back to the beach is clumsy, blurred by a near-death experience that brings a lesson hard earned.
There’s no one left to love you but yourself.
Damp sand ends up being colder than she remembered, or maybe it’s the fact that she’d already been shivering; whether or not it’s from the impact of the current events or from the trauma of a violent awakening, there’s no clear way of deciding, but nonetheless the sensation of something solid is enough to bring her together.
Feeble-hearted, completely broken, Sikeax can only shake in the aftermath, the chill of the wind working fast to sink the cold deeper.

OOC: tbh not exactly looking to carry this out but if you'd like to reply go ahead!!! it's more of a chance for me to see how sia is gonna be around here and get her lil butt started


"speak"
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the ocean holding everything, tossing aside the weary - by Sikeax - 10-22-2017, 12:26 PM
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