Iris could not have known the full implication of the burdens that she placed upon this stranger - and even if she had, the truth could not have altered her course. Though she, too, abhorred any unfamiliar touch, the sheer pain and need that she felt ran deeper than thought or emotion. Rather, they were more primal feelings - as she had once killed another of her kind to end her mother’s torment, so she now clung to the warmth of this stranger to stave off her own. And though it was a selfish act - this indulgence of her weakness when she ought to have remained strong for Eve’s sake - the dark brown mare was beyond caring. There was only so much pain that anyone could bear before they began to break, and the first fissures in her heart had been opened long ago. Without the balm that her sister had been, the ragged edges throbbed anew, and pain rippled through her with each beat of her heart.

On a subconscious level she could feel the stiffness of the black mare’s movements - but when the other’s head dropped across her withers in an embrace, this was quickly forgotten. Possessing a thicker build that resembled Lilika’s, it would have been all too easy to close her eyes and imagine that it was her own mother who comforted her instead of an individual whose name she didn’t even know. But Iris was either unwilling or unable to succumb to such wistful thoughts, and remained hyper-aware of the unfamiliar scent that enfolded her, filling the tight drum of her chest more and more with each breath that she took. In a way, this was a blessing - with no room left for her tears, they abated quickly. By the time that the Vulcan spoke, she felt as empty of emotion as the voice that broke their silence.

I have not seen your sister, but I will help you find her. Gnome’s daughter did not even feel the twist of agony that might have been expected with the first answer, nor the flutter of hope that might accompany the stranger’s vow. They were, after all, only words - and Iris had learned long ago that words held little more power than the wind that bore them. As with the moment of respite that she had stolen, the changes such vows incurred were transient at best - because time was the fire in which all promises burned. And so when her companion pulled away, Iris neither wept nor pleaded for the bitterness of it. Instead, she stood stiff and motionless - like a creature encased in ice - until the Codebreaker’s offer sparked a flare of anger that abruptly thawed her. Rest, while Eve suffered at the whims of some brutish bully of a stallion?

“You don’t understand,” Iris spoke in a voice as flat and empty as the one her companion had used only moments before. “Eve is my sister, and she’s in trouble - so the rest you speak of can be damned.” In a brief flash of insight that bordered on hysteria, the mare realized that her mother would have been horrified to hear such language - and callous disregard for the kindness of another - leave her daughter’s lips. But the blanketed mare made no effort to rescind the cruelty of her speech, and jerked away from the touch that had been welcomed only moments before. Standing here would accomplish nothing, and sleeping would accomplish even less. If she had to turn over every stone on the Peak’s shore to find Eve, she would do so gladly - and alone, if it came to that.

Of course, willpower alone could not keep a body going once its limits had been reached - as Iris quickly discovered. Two steps into her resumed journey, the ground suddenly rose up to meet her - or perhaps she had stumbled, and been unable to maintain her footing. In any case, the spotted mare rose shakily, her dark ears twisting backwards for the anticipated - and dreaded - scolding that would follow. One of her abraded knees had begun to bleed again, and the brown mare’s jaw ached, though she could not recall if it had struck the ground. And thirst - taking advantage of her faltered resolve - was quick to insinuate itself again, prickling in her throat like the barbed thorns of Luthien’s thicket.

Without comment - save the baleful flick of Iris’s gaze, as if challenging her stoic companion to utter a single ‘I told you so’ - she turned and began to head in the direction that the black mare had indicated. And though her ire was clear in the stiffness of her strides, there was vulnerability, too, in the way the spotted mare moved hesitantly, taking great care not to pull too far ahead of the Vulcan. And in the way that her slender body listed slightly towards Adelheid, as if remembering the warmth of her skin - and regretting that the solace her touch had offered had been broken far too soon.