into the sea, you and me
all these years, and no one heard
i love you, let's go

It feels like shame when it hits, hurting like the burn of aged whiskey hitting the back of the throat. So much of her life has been spent as far away from the north as one could possibly imagine, and now, at the opposite ends of the spectrum, she wonders what it would have been like if she had just stayed in the north, never once thinking the Dragon’s Throat as a chance in life, if she had gone rogue, never thought about chasing that dream that carried her to where she is now.
A failure.
“No.”
They meet at the same point in time, different locations coloured with far from alike hues. Her’s barely hold a single emotion to them, empty, like the ocean, with seemingly nothing to give after having given damn near everything. His holds a sadness, so foreign that it makes her wonder if he’ll push through it, heavy and dampened by her storms because not matter how much Sikeax leads herself to believe that she is selfless, Hobgoblin will always be the one that she is damned to be selfish to.
Out slithers a sigh, full of disappointment aimed at herself. Pawing follows short, to which he watches with a dull stare, eyes fixated on nothing but her, yet blurred, as if distant. More shame, sorrow, heartache.
She could treat him better than this, but here they are, equally suffering at her fault.
Again.
“I don’t think you should think of me like that.”
A tilt of the head is caught in the corner of her eye, watching his bulky head move to one side, the left actually, his favoured side if a useless fact is need. He looks out of place in the melting snow and the peeking grasses, living in a body made perfectly for the sea, resting miles inland surrounded by mountains and hiding out in the valleys that have sparse trees inside, tucked up in the belly of the north. Actually bringing the thought process through her head brings a thin smile across her lips.
Warmth.
The simple way to describe it is when one is to sit at the perfect distance from an inferno, heated but not burned, no discomfort from the scorch. It has butterfly wings that it uses to flutter through her body as it filters in. She looks back to him to discover that he’s got that stupid, useless, probably fake smile that leopard seals have, jaw slightly parted but not aggressive. Happiness and hopefulness are the emotions he pours over himself at the sight of her own, or at least as he can tell, and it takes everything she has not to chuckle at him.
Well, not exactly everything works because out it comes, tumbling out like pebbles, warnings before a rockslide that no one can be sure is coming.
“You no failure. You do good. Hobgoblin think You good.”
Her small smile buds into a full-blown grin, pushing to the points that it aches lovingly in the fibers of her muscles and the feel of his skin is surprisingly cold, slick as she presses the length of her lower face against his shoulder blade.
“Thank you.”

OOC: HERE, HAVE A MOMENT. c':
Hobgoblin is looking ridiculous in his leopard seal form.