“Hobgoblin?”
A quick swivel of the head turns his eyes over to her. She’s standing knee-deep in the waves, foam encircling her legs and the sea steadily rising up to meet her. The abundance of daylight has paled her coat into a soft shade of cream, leaving the dark, wavy locks cascading from the ridge of her neck and rump to scream their contrast against the change. She smells of sea salt, or maybe everything does this close to the ocean. He’s spent so much time next to her these days that he no longer cares about that.
The tiredness in her eyes has drained somewhat, swept away in waterfalls and the sorrow in her facial features replaced by the gentle revival of health. Plumpness fills out her body more. She looks well, beautiful even, but in the plain, simple way that only Sikeax could pull off.
Anxiety hums in their bond, drifting from her, but he’s not exactly sure why. His own sensation is curiosity that teems with impatience. Hunger toils in the pits of their stomachs. They’ve spent far too long lingering in the dunes, making meager meals off of coarse dune grass and sea birds. The sea is waiting just before them, a plentiful bounty ready for their taking.
“Can we walk before we go? It’s nice today.”
A frown pops in place when a snort rattles his entire skull, probably bouncing around what little of a brain Hobgoblin has in his skull. Ears sink like ships as she puts on her new coat, tucking in it close to hide her shame. She’s hungry too, but nothing is rushing them but him.
“Please?”
One quick huff harmonizes with “fine,” a background of budding happiness rising up behind them. She is so simple to please.
It won’t kill you to wait a bit.
“Will.”
She hands him over a look worthy of one of her children, probably for Zhu or Tyrath, with face slack and eyes sharp, ears pinned and scowl crossing her lips. Hobgoblin idles in the water, belly deep, upper lip rolled upwards to show a gallery of evolution-honed teeth, moving up and down with the bob of his head as her head fills up with chuckling.
As long as she may spend on raising him, he’s always going to be her permanent child.
Grow up.
“Nope.”
She could hit him, but she’s not that kind of mother.
“Let’s go, shit brain.” It obviously catches him off-guard, halting his display entirely before staring at her with (false)hurt eyes, brows furrowed as Sikeax’s lungs thunder with laughter. She had intended to storm off promptly after saying it, but looking back at her companion sitting stupid in the waves, any thoughts of it are quickly discarded.
But…
She takes it up anyway, after just a quick few seconds’ thoughts, nearly enough for him not to catch on her as her hind legs send a flurry of sea foam and water straight into his face, his ears left to tell him that she’s giggling up a storm, scaling the incline to the more compact, dampened shoreline before taking off completely.
“Fuck” is the only thing she’s able to make out as the distance between them rises, of course slowing down to dance on energetic legs, laughter still bubbling out of her lips like a yearling in Birdsong.
Nonetheless, Hobgoblin takes his sweet time returning to her, leaving her to move freely on giddy legs, making one quick sweep on her environment to see if anyone is here to catch the sight, for if anything, she’d definitely be embarrassed.
It happens to be her lucky day, thank the Gods. Someone who partially knows her is there, only a ways down, close enough to catch every detail of the situation unfolding just down shore.
If only she hadn't had her eyes closed so tightly when she ran, acting like a child, she might have noticed her long before.
Everything drains like the cork keeping her boat afloat has been pulled, water rushing in from the metaphorical sea to sink her tiny boat. Her jaw feels taunt on her skull, her lips aching as they roll inwards into her mouth, tucked in neatly, ears slack and eyes wide as reality comes rushing in ever harder. Suddenly, all of her joy feels wasted, having let go out of it in an instant.
Oops.
Hobgoblin is barely there when the feeling comes rolling in, recoiling internally for brief moments before the world lets him know exactly what’s happening. “Oh well” he tells her, and that urge to hit him comes back around again.
In the end, it’s all a hard lump to swallow, stumbling over her words as they battle each other for control.
“Syrena? Is that right?” It might be reasonable if she messes up the mare’s name any, seeing as their meetings have been brief, but at least she has an inkling of someone she hasn’t gotten too far from.
Once Sikeax takes the time to study her company’s appearance, the off, straight stare into nothing, does she actually make the effort to express something. A tuck of the corner of her lips, a slight distortion to their limp state as they ease up on one side in a half smile that really isn’t one. It seems weird to stare straight off into the sea without doing a thing, and as the thought crosses her mind, Syrena actually hasn’t done a single thing to make her question her motives, other than have knowledge of her title.
“Are you alright?”
Damp skin presses against her lower leg as Hobgoblin slips past, finally coming to a stop right as his shoulder passes by her leg.
“Hurry up.”
Too bad she can’t promise that.  

OOC: sorry for the wait dear! have a lil different than usual sikeax since she's in a good mood today.
Hobgoblin is in his leopard seal form.

"Talk."

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."