The quiet is a bit unsettling, but the soft hiss of luminescent lava meeting ocean water and the lapping of the waves against the cooled rock helps escape the fact that Hobgoblin is choosing to do this. She wants to scream at him this is her coping method now, that not all Gods are bad and maybe because the Earth God has done nothing to forsake her like the Sun has that there is hope there.
But Hobgoblin has a skewed view of the Gods now, and his thoughts are the hardest to change. It would be the equivalent of asking her to move the sea with only her bare hands: it cannot be done even if she tried.
He’s the first one to notice. Her eyes are shut as a long breath soothes the emptiness in her lungs, filling it up with the flavour of salt. There is an overwhelming sensation of calm that neither of them can complain about when prayers run over her lips, whispering with the softness of a  mother’s lullabies.
“I really miss him.”
“Know.”
It doesn’t even bother her that he responds to her prayers like he is the one she prays to, but it offers a touch of comfort to know that Hobgoblin can somewhat symphonize with her sorrows.
“Please give me a sign that he’s okay. Anything. It’s breaking my heart and tearing me up inside.”
“Skullface.”
She blossoms up in the stupid bliss that is happiness, thinking that in some rare way Hobgoblin has learned to share nicknames and that he is announcing the arrival of Kid, body lighting up with a smile to beam across her lips as the clouds of her eyelids over sadden skies open up to show the calm after the storm is here. It crushes her to find that it is not him, and she is powerless to hide the disappointment that comes rushing in.
All of it just drains, smile slackening but holding itself there, nonetheless glad to see him but upset that it is one of her children. She gives it a little lift to make it more reliable. The gasp that she had unintentionally let fly is still ringing in her ears.
Behind the mask of facelessness, Hobgoblin cringes.
Oops.
“Yea, oops.”
“Volterra,” His name leaves her like the wind goes over the ocean and through the desert, meant to be after all of their time together. “I think that if we never did see each other after this, I’d forget my name. You always remind me of it.”
And maybe that’s the good in their relationship. He has kept her grounded when she needed it, reminded her that in some way, she is still human and that against all of her life’s vices there is still something else out there.
He mentions her worship and she has to double take, turning her head with a steady pace as her eyes drink in the seaweed lying limp before the shrine. Her prayers hang in the back of her head.
He reminds me so much of him.
“Skullface Zhu father. Should.”
You’re not wrong.”
No shame or embarrassment pipes up as she lets out a chuckle, aimed at herself.
“I have trusted him from when I was young and naive and knew little of Gods and he hasn’t wronged me in all of this time.” She’s got to let go. The sorrow in her voice is drowning in the happiness of seeing someone that she can trust, or at least believe to trust. Loneliness has gotten the better of her as an outcast.  “What about you? Who are you here to see, or did you and Vérzés miss Goblin and I that much now that we’ve left the Throat?”
Because we surely missed you too.
It finally goes. Whenever Volterra leaves, she can return to the sadness brought on by the loss of her first born, her only blood son, and everything will be okay again.
Hobgoblin bubbles up in their shared joy despite the discomfort and lets it all go at once. His body leaps away from him and creates a quick vacuum to bring it all back in short seconds, coming out on the other side of it with something new. Soft chittering hums from him as his lower jaw vibrates.
“I can assure you that Goblin has.”
Paws dart across the stone as Hobgoblin continues his chittering, excitement roaring up in his chest at the chance to abandon the agony of their damnation, an apology nearly on his lips.

OOC: Hobgoblin shifts into his serval form when mentioned.

"Talk."

You were angels,

And I sit and listen dreamlessly,