Some part of her wishes she could be like him, to pass through things in the world with such ease that nothing seems like it will ever bother him. Its simplicity makes envy grow in her chest, quickly stomped out by Hobgoblin’s harsh foot.
“No.”
She can’t be sure if it’s because he’s in a good mood now and intends to keep it, or if because he has no interest in withstanding it. Either way, she appreciates it for a few seconds before the situation comes rolling back in.
Guilt overwhelms her at the fact that she gave him the good news before the bad, because maybe she could have spared him the pain of knowing that something could happen to their only son and they’d never know, left in the dark to fret and weep as the world swallows him up and spits him back out, except that Sikeax can’t imagine Volterra truly crying. To see tears well up in the corners of his eyes might make her think that the world finds a way through everyone’s armor, regardless of how well made it is.
The look on his face makes it hurt more, aching in her throat until it pounds a sore spot in. She doesn’t want him to know, but-
“He probably would.” They come out without intention, bursting past her gates as Hobgoblin stinks into her pool of sorrow, now working to curl up into a position akin to cuddling with his friend, seeking out any source of relief from what’s coming.
“Don’t want lose Vérzés like Zhu. Send Vadir. She die, disappear, no care.”
Don’t be like that.
“You think too.”
A mental snort is sent his direction in which he’s got nothing left to fight it off with, listening it ring against his brain’s eardrums made just for her. He isn’t wrong, but she isn’t particularly willing to admit it.
“Hobgoblin wants you to send Vadir, so Vérzés can stay with him.” There’s a touch of humor to her tone, a stifled laugh hidden behind her words as Hobgoblin casts her a hurt look.
Live with it.
It slinks a frown across his face that he’d rather not throw out; letting his feelings towards others be known when they don’t relate to hated leaves room for weakness. She sends it back to him with nothing but a knowing, self-fulfilled smile as Volterra’s touch consumes her.
And then she’s feeling bad, because Volterra’s sigh at her refusal touches her ears in the wrong tone. If Hobgoblin’s feelings towards the dragon had done anything to pick her up and edged her into the light, then it’s surely lost now. It makes her heart sink and the weight of guilt crush her, casting her eyes down and simply sinking into him for only a few seconds before giving it up to replace with a strained, attempted touch of her muzzle to his cheek, trying to work in some sort of comfort.
“I didn’t mean to make you feel bad with that, if I did.” Even if her reach to his face fails, her shoulder is trying it’s best to lean into his chest, reaching her neck around for any sort of a hug with the intentions to work at growing his withers. “I love being around you, and having you in the Throat with me while I was Sultana was wonderful knowing I had someone beside me through it all, but I can’t go back there just yet.” Pain drowns out the comfort in her voice, taking away how nice this moment would be if she’d just take her emotions out of the picture. “Hobgoblin and I both love you and Vérzés a lot more than we’d admit, but some things are best left undone.” Whether or not she means in it in a romantic or platonic sense is up for their debate, for both of them have a mixed sense of what romance is meant to be. Hobgoblin’s only ideas of love is the pained mess that Sikeax’s feels towards her children, what was once there for Cera, and how Sikeax and him love each other in a confused sense of siblingship and friendship, and Sikeax’s only true messes of love exist in friendships and family, a broken heart that tells her to fear anything romantic from the promise of consequences.
“We’ll always come and visit you, though. I can promise that.” And it’s one she doesn’t intend to break, trying to keep her shaky hands clasped tight on any source of her happiness in her life, and especially Hobgoblin’s.

"Talk."

You were angels,

And I sit and listen dreamlessly,