well someday soon when the spring brings the sun
i'll sleep, i'll finally
feel better when the winter's gone

Teeth slip into sight at his best attempt at displaying his pleasure, snorting once at the winged mare's reaction to escape. Silt caresses the underside of his body as he swings the portion of himself to propel forward, slowly working away at widening the space growing between his lower and upper jaws. Her reaction is an encouraging feat that heralds him on. Fleeing feet and thrashing wings do not frighten him.
By the time that he could have gotten her, she is too far gone, out of reach and far enough that any chance of a fruitful attack will not fall into his favour. Sikeax is already arriving, splashing loudly and without care and nearing him. A noise short of a hiss slips from him as he turns to flee, diving away from her reach as the lake opens up into a sinking hole somewhere far from the shore.
Water pools at her hocks, leaving her to note the difference between land-bound water compared to free, ocean-filling water. There is a lack of a pull and push on without the waves. It doesn't feel right. The lack of life is deafening and emptying of the soul and the heart, and the low tune of her brother's song is gradually becoming more obvious as he rises to the surface to breathe.
She hopes he'll keep it up and give anyone near enough something to enjoy through the dark hours.
Sabia's eyes have hung up on her. Brows raise and ears bounce forward to signify the attention given to her herd sister, watching as the mare takes a step back into the water. Pegasi don't seem fond of water, as far as she is concerned, having seen Amara flail hopelessly within the body of the lake with broken wings from her crash landing. The memory haunts her. Whatever comes out of this meeting with the new face will have to do in silencing its pitiful wails as it lingers in the back of her head, bringing back the reminder of occuptional hazards.
The depth thins as she throws her hooves against the weight. Sabia is approaching her as well, and while not quite meeting in the middle of their locations, no more than ten feet separate them in the conclusion of their actions.
No words can be exchanged at the answer to her question. It's not that they are not warranted, closer to that they aren't needed. She will not waste her breathe on things that can be expressed more vibrantly in motion.
Curiosity comes as a welcome thing, laughing softly below her words at the mental reminder that not everyone is aware that Sikeax is gifted in breathing underwater. Cursed maybe be a better word, but at times like these, there's a possible chance that it feels like a gift. One can just leave, and no one can hunt her down.
Hobgoblin's song has found a way to fit perfectly in the desert night now. It carries itself on the wind as he rolls his mass onto its back and lets low out the calls.
"The lake." These words come out of her mouth like she is saying that the sky is blue and that the summers in the Dragon's Throat are hot, common knowledge that can never be spoken as hushed secrets with leaning ears. "The water doesn't bother my lungs. I can just, well," The topic is becoming increasing difficult to explain. There can never be a simple way to explain her condition without making her seem crazy. "I can breathe underwater in the same way we're breathing on land." They don't blurt, just glide free before sinking into the silence of the night. Hobgoblin's song hits a low, vibrating hum at this point, as if to mock her.

OOC: For an explanation of Hobgoblin's singing, he's performing a call male leopard seals only do. It sounds exactly like this.

"Talk."