If it hadn’t been for the sheer embarrassment of her actions, not actually something she should be scared to flaunt, the kind of happiness that comes out of stupid things and manages to make the day better out of stubbornness, then maybe she could have popped on into the sea and pretend that her actions weren’t anything to be noticed, but there are two factors in this situation that make it different. One is that she was loud and so obvious of her presence, alive with joy so much that she should’ve glowed, and two, Syrena is someone she knows, a person that by chance works her way back into her company. It’s only best that she try, now that the situation is resting on her shoulders.
Thea, maybe for the best because Sikeax has never truly been partial to snakes, frowning at the sight of their bodies and always wondering what sort of humor comes out of them not having any legs, doesn’t win over her attention. Syrena unknowingly holds it with an iron fist, but that doesn’t mean that her companion can’t stifle his laughter he manages at the sight of her wiggling in the sand, without those said legs.
You know you don’t have legs on your body right now.
“Hobgoblin make legs. Make anything.”
If it’d been the past, in a time not very far away, then Hobgoblin would have made some statement about being above the control of the Gods at his ability to mend himself as he pleased, possibly even going as far as to claim himself as one, but luckily he’s changed. There’s no more struggle written in blood and hatred, power and control between the two of them over simple things such as that.
She does though, win her over with a quick shift of her body, eyes briefly widening as the snake is exchanged to mimic Hobgoblin. Large portions of his features roll up in disapproval, making a sight that looks pained and obviously uncomfortable, broken with a quick splash of water, attempting to use his almost forgotten magic to throw a small wave over her.
“No” comes out of him with some odd sort of sound she’s definitely not used to, furrowing her brows as her eyesight holds in his general direction. His actual voice feels funny on him, not truly suiting him, but it’s still there, like a lot of things he’s forgotten. “Not Hobgoblin.”
And if she had heard, then she would had told him to grow up, that he was exactly like her once, taking the bodies of whoever he saw for sport as a child. The only inkling that she has of his displeasure is the aggravating sense of his annoyance, pushing into the back of her neck where her skull and spine meet each other.
Stop that, but Hobgoblin is already trying to one up her, popping quickly into another form just to taunt her, a silent demand for her to “beat.”
A roll of the eyes and she’s done with him, letting him off into his own world.
Nonetheless, it makes her feel a small sense of accomplishment knowing that she was correct, possibly something hard won from Hobgoblin. It only gets ruined that Syrena knows her too, knows her title, her real name, maybe what she’s done. It puts a feeling of discomfort in her stomach that steadily works to eat her alive, though it probably wouldn’t hurt to shed the formalities. They’ve seen each other enough to live in some false view of one another, whether it is intended or not.
“Yes, but I guess Sia works better. We’ve seen each around enough.” Her words are followed with a shrug of her shoulders, a slight sense of carelessness hinted at in their tone. She’s always seemed interested in the past, pulling out something that Sikeax was never expecting just to catch her off-guard.
Speaking of which, a side eye is cast to Hobgoblin, who stands knee-deep in sea foams and waves now, bounding about gayly on his ghastly legs in an attempt to tease his sister in blood. He feels content, but nothing with him is assured.
The conversation takes a turn for the more sorrowful side, something that Hobgoblin finds himself chiming in on.
“Like you. Make friends, be sad together.”
You don’t like being sad with me? She teases, earning herself a pause in his activities to glare her down. A smirk slips into place but fades away to meet her feelings about her company’s words, ears having sunk and eyes hinting at her worry.
“I’m sorry.” is all she can spare, quiet-toned and somewhat understanding, somewhat hitting herself mentally at the fact that she had been a healer, that she was supposed to care for people both psychologically and physically, but those in the Dragon’s Throat centered more on the wounds won on their bodies through effort and hardiness. It’s something she has little experience in as that age-old need comes back in to show its head, to remind her that some things never leave.
But Syrena is there to save her, a held-in statement making its way to freedom to let her know genuinely what’s wrong. It could be that she knew something about her in the past, centering off on her time as the Sun Physician and not a Sultana, but oh well, she’s already having a partially difficult time sympathizing with her over her personal feelings about the Hidden Falls, or previously known as the Windtossed Foothills, a wretched place in history that maybe they’re best without.
“I can understand that.” It’s a halfway lie that she’s tempted to hold back in, but life for her feels not exactly wrong without the Dragon’s Throat, but at least somewhat different. “I had to leave the Dragon’s Throat some time ago when I’ve lived there my entire life, so I guess I can at least partially understand how it feels to not have the Falls.” A shrug of the shoulders shows her light heartedness at it, not caring enough to feel pity. They did terrible things that weren’t theirs to do, they deserved it as far as she is concerned.
“You were a part of their herd before the Earth God took it away, weren’t you?” She lets her voice wear a shawl of curiosity, wanting to know something at best, or possibly only wishing to push the conversation on to run her feelings about earlier out of the picture so she can go.

OOC: sorry for the wait! Hobgoblin turns into his Wendigo form, and since him and Thea are the same species, actually physically talks to her.

"Talk."