Çiçek’s pulse pounds in her ears. She waits, every muscle in her body tense with anticipation, and can feel her legs trembling as Faolain crushes her face against her. The ‘Teke sighs, and her heart drops into her stomach. Is she upset? Çiçek had been sure, once, that she’d be able to have these tough conversations with her Guardians and make it all go smoothly. If she could say the right words in the right sequence, maybe she’d be able to cauterize the wound as she was inflicting it, stop the bleeding and set them on the path to healing, with or without her. Changes were difficult - they’d always be, and she had realized this a long time ago, but for her, the newness on the horizon had been worth it. This time, though… for reasons she doesn’t want to name, this feels different.

Relief fills her senses anew when the black mare speaks, and she exhales audibly, meeting Faolain’s dark eyes with her own. She holds her stare for a long moment, then reaches wordlessly across her shoulders to pull her into an embrace, holding her tight. “Thank you,” she finally says, grateful that she can’t catch her blinking back tears.

Fae seems to be taking it well - as well as she can, at least, given the circumstances, and for that, Çiçek is thankful. Rivaini’s reaction had taken her aback, shaken her confidence in her own decision-making; the silver-haired mare had fled before she’d gotten a chance to explain herself, to reassure the Guardian that it wasn’t goodbye, but see you later, that she’d be coming back to their shores just as the birds had over the winter months. In truth, she didn’t think Rivaini would have cared so much. She had seen the way the two Guardians were with each other, sensed a closeness there that she wasn’t privy to. If anything, she thought their reactions would have been reversed. She’d thought wrong, and now there was blood on her hooves and an empty space in her heart where a white-striped mare should be.

Çiçek had underestimated the depth of her and Rivaini’s bond. She can only hope that in doing so, she hasn’t broken it beyond repair.

She slips out of Faolain’s hold at her offer to visit, looking pensively out to sea. “I hope so,” she mutters. “I don’t think Solomon will be the problem.” She lets the silence stretch between them again, pawing at the sand.

“Can you talk to her?” Çiçek blurts after a minute, meeting Faolain’s gaze with a pleading look. “She - she took it harder than I thought she would.” Her eyes fall to the ground, hidden beneath pale lashes as if ashamed. “You’ve known her for longer than I have, and I…” The image of Rivaini’s retreating form burns in her mind, a vision she’d not soon forget. Much as she tries, she can’t help the sadness creeping back into her voice.

“I don’t think she wants to see me right now.”