"You will miss it soon enough." A look is given in response that tells her that he doesn't understand what she is trying to hit nor does he want to, watching on drier land as she stands mid-cannon deep in cooling waters. Waves caress her skin in a loving embrace as he jumps, leaping up into the air to avoid the coming attack. "If you keep this up, you'll never get to see how wonderful the world is down there."
Hobgoblin could care less. She was fully aware of this fact and he didn't waste time in letting her know. Each plead slowly worked into his impatientance and angered him more. Attack after attack left the champagne mare marks of battle, and as of recently, she'd begun the risk of counting the seconds, minutes, hours, sometimes days between his attacks, trying to figure out what pleased him and what would rescue her from abuse.
All she wants to do is live her life, but that's a request even God himself laughs at.
A long, lonesome sigh pulls from her lips and drags itself out over the waves. Ears perk up and meet the noise before swiveling around to something else, tail snapping in and out of positions as a symbol of his annoyance and anger. As long as the water held her, she was safer than she was on land, unless he decided to build up his wings and soar to her.
They unfold before her eyes, watching in almost silent terror as her brother of soul, mind, and emotion spreads his wings as if he is the Devil himself, preparing to strike down the souls of the damned to their, no, his fiery home of damnation. Weak blue hues remain glued as he flaps once, twice, many times more as sand sprays about him in a circle and tries to rest atop the bodies of their neighbors, finally coming to fly away from her.
She's smart by this point. If someone is near, he's likely to want to know who they are through his special sort of investigation.
Within her chest, she apologizes in preparation for whoever that person or creature might be. It may just be food that he's heard, but as her legs push against the waves, moving parallel to the coast, she doubts he'd show that much interest in food.
It ends up being a waste of energy. Sikeax's mind is filled with the image of a horned, golden man, prancing about the waters with a rather large deer. Hate punches her in the throat when he cannot swing down to get them.
Inside, she dares to smile but fears the end result, leaving her to do nothing more to do than watch the world through his set of eyes, listening to the sounds of his internal rage as he dives back to her. Claws scramble over her back as a cringe decorates her face, shivering at the wet, slick sensation of snake skin against her hide as he climbs her and wraps himself about her neck, now switching roles as she becomes his life line.
They meet the pair with a slow pace, watching from knee-deep waters as they play and enjoy the time together.
We could have that.
A hiss fills her ears and she knows these are all dreams that aren't worth chasing. Hobgoblin was a monster that cared only for himself, her opposite til the end of their shared days. They watch like strangers who make their dreams off of others' lives, grasping onto a shred of torn hope that maybe there was a chance that that could ever be them.
The golden walks from the water, Hobgoblin urging Sikeax onto doing the same. A longing to feel ground beneath her feet twisted itself about her mind, pleading to escape the false of trust. The grip about her neck tightens.
She shatters and abandons, groaning in the same fashion that a child does when they have been turned down their favourite toy or a trip to the playground. Salt finishes licking her legs by the time she's touched the sand, shedding the excess from what remained of her torn mane tail.
"Do you not like the sea?" It pushes from her lips to both Hobgoblin and their company. Their lingering was odd enough, and to carry the appearance of stalking with a lack of words could only further her risks of being attacked.
Not that he minded the idea, that is.

OOC: Apologies for making you wait so long! I'll get a better post out next time once I get a feel of the thread going.

"talk"

Sikeax

She is scared, but won't allow herself to admit the feeling. Hobgoblin scolds her. Hatred hits her like a wave that she can't escape, drowning in his feelings when she still can't figure out exactly how to breathe beneath them. It would take time, yes, but for now, the punishments were endless. Together, they take swings at each other's mind, battling, waging rage-filled war when Sikeax's drive to do selfish acts is beaten down by her depression, soon enough gathering up enough strength to reach out to Hobgoblin's end of the thread that resembled their sacred bond, where the exact opposite stood brave and proud, sword in hand, prepared to slaughter for raw power and ultimate control.
How was she even to battle that?
Her eyes can't leave the man's presence, glued to him as if he was some beast thinking out the next move that would finally lead to her demise. I need to think more than I need to act. Maybe then this wouldn't happen.
Muscles tense up harder as his features morph, painting a facade that she couldn't find the strength to trust. Who changed from alert to welcoming within seconds? Did they not know that there was barely anyone worth trusting in the world, that someday all of your actions would come back to bite you as they had done her? She blinks and tries to filter them through as Hobgoblin extends his head outwards, forked tongue sliding out as a hiss spills again.
Annoyance sways them in a rhythmic motion. For once, she allows his part to stay separate, desperate to remain calm(if she could even manage that) in the presence of someone so foreign.
Words finally enter the arena, and she can finally feel herself try to relax. Hobgoblin's act keeps up, driving her to keep the search for the signal that tells her he's about to do something that will lead to regrets in the future, something where he's made a mistake that leads her to take the punishment when he can only laugh at her misfortune and ensure that more and more of that will rise out of the mix.
An invisible bucket of water is poured over her body. Parts of her crawl that she wasn't even aware could crawl, but the light weight and tightness about her neck is relieved.
He pleases himself in the idea that the playing field is now equal. Sikeax could fight the golden man and he could defeat the deer, pawing the sand with cloven hooves and antlers down as if to beg for a spar.
She only saw it as a masculine display of power and nothing else, allowing him permission to do as he pleased as long as she could feel she could trust him.
The stranger asks about her swim, leaving her to think of how she could run back to the sea and go under, to forget all of the rules that she had written out and meet the nighttime underworld. She could forget this whole meeting had ever happened. There would be no golden man, no dark deer that Hobgoblin attempted to keep himself busy with, never a night out on the beach with the moon heavy in the sky.
None of that.
But wasn't that a rude act? Something selfish? Hobgoblin might enjoy it, but there would be the consequences that hit her long after the performance was over, mentally destroying herself for something so bad.
The decision to stay is made and the thought of leaving is scrapped as a whole. Conversation would lock her into her jail cell.
"I prefer the water more than I prefer land. I could live there, but I don't see myself doing something so rude to a family that needs me."
She now thinks of herself as ruling the conversation, for being self-centered for speaking so much about herself, and reminds herself that others need attention. "What about you? Did you enjoy your swim?"
No rudeness is intended with her question, unintentionally mimicking his words.
A name is offered next. Thandruil. Something fresh, something new, something she's probably heard in the past but can't find the inner strength to dig through all of the memories to place him somewhere. Maybe somewhere, he's blurred and faded like an old picture, but was that enough to even give out priceless, important information? Did everyone in the world need to know every detail in her life, given the ability to pick into her secrets and find their true meanings?
It'd be rude to make them wait, but now she was expected to do so. Bucephalus had made it clear in the past that she was indeed rude for not giving out a name when he had done so in a blind, ignorant fashion.
She sighs on the inside and breaks down her walls, just for tonight, possibly in the chance of rebuilding something she didn't want back.
Courage was a stupid thing, anyway, and what did healers need it for if they never would go to war? Courage could drive her into doing something stupid and killing a patient. Courage could lead her into her own death.
In the end, courage wasn't worth it, but she had to make the leap at some point.
"Sikeax, but a lot of people call me Sia." Her horn sweeps in the direction of her companion, who was still caught up in the idea of a short term playmate. "That would be Hobgoblin." No attention is given in their direction from the Rougarou.
"What brought you out to the beach so late?"
Well, if she'd made the choice, then she might as well make the commitment.

OOC: Hobgoblin is Blue-Lipped Sea Krait in the previous post and then turns into a Red Deer.

"talk"

Sikeax