The tears that slip down her face cannot be logic-ed from existence. She can't think her way out of them or imagine them away. They come when the leaden shackles of shame and grief are too heavy for her to lift and her legs shake beneath their weight. Large, hiccuping sobs hold her hostage, unable to do more than gasp for breath between each wave as it presses and compresses her heart into something she doesn't recognize. She doesn't know how to be who she was anymore, just a shell that drifted along hurting everyone that she came in contact with.

She couldn't change things or make them better for anyone. No amount of crying would bring her mother back. The tears would only further wound those she loved who could do nothing to help her and thereby condemn them all to more suffering. If only, if only, if only, she thinks. If only I wasn't me.

Encapsulated in her thoughts, she does not hear Faolain's approach until the slender 'Teke mare says her name and she jumps, jostling closer into the rock face. The very last thing she had expected was for someone to come looking for her now. She had taken such care to be alone that it had not occurred to her how loudly her sobbing might echo in their grieving home. Even as her face swivels briefly toward the Ridge's Guardian, Roisin is ashamed - not only of the pain that she has caused the Ridge residents by her cowardice - but also of the way that she is behaving now. It is not that Siobhan has ever made the girl ashamed of her tears, but she has always needed to be the strong one. The big sister. The one who took care of everyone when Siobhan couldn't. Hastily she tries to stifle the sound of her grief, furiously rubbing her face against each of her forelegs in turn in an attempt to wipe away the tears.

"Queen Fae-Faolain," she offers brokenly, her breath still stuck in the cycle of deep crying and refusing to draw deeply into her lungs. She turns her face back to the rock, embarrassed that anyone had found her like this, much less the leader of the Ridge. Ro had already given the elegant black mare plenty of reasons to be disappointed with her, but somehow having her witness this level of grief was more intimate and therefore more terrifying. "Nuh-No," she started again, refusing to meet Faolain's eyes. "I-I'm sorry. I--"

She has no more time to explain because Iscariot is there. He's not her mother, not by a long shot, but she curls into him as if she belongs there, tucking her head against his shoulder to hide away her face as the tears renew their paths down her face. It’s okay to cry, Roison, he says and she shakes her head mutely in disagreement, her breath hiccuping. It was only okay to cry when she was alone. When it didn't hurt anyone else.

And here was again, hurting Queen Faolain and Iscariot all over again. Miserable with self-hatred, the yearling says nothing beneath the gentle balm of the pale stallion's reassurance. She stands quietly, her eyes squeezed shut as he attempted to file away the rough edges of the pain so that the blunt edges might be more manageable for her to handle.

I still care about you, Roi, he says, and her blue-brown eyes open to fixate on his face. It was because he cared that she couldn't bear to keep doing this. It would have been better for him to have never known her than for him to have had to suffer along with her as she demolished the happiness of her whole family. A broken smile tries to rise on her lips but fades before it can form fully. At his offer to leave her in her own misery, she considers it. Truly considers it. Alone, she could cry as much as she wanted without hurting them, rather than trying to be strong or brave… but Roisin was no adult. A part of her had been traumatized by the very thing she had been considering doing; it had not been strong enough to protest in the moment, but it did so now.

Wordlessly, she shook her head and ducked her gaze away from the searching look he wore.

For a time she stood silent, her body curled against him for the comfort it provided to her. She knew that she could cuddle against Ailill at any time that she wanted, and that Akadi would scarcely deny her a hug, but there was a difference in hugging someone who wasn't family. Someone who didn't have to care and yet did anyway.

It should have been me," she says softly when her heart has returned to a steady rhythm and the tears have dried into prickly tracks that trail down her cheeks. "I should have volunteered to go so-" emotion thickens in her throat and her eyes squeeze shut again as she tries to ward off the wave of sorrow so deep she must be drowning. With a small gasp, she continues, leaving her eyes closed from the world. "So my momma didn't have to go." Silently she lowers her head, shackled by shame. "I should've been braver."

Abruptly her head raises, and those same bright eyes rise to Iscariot's again. "Why do bad things keep happening? I can't stop them, or fix them, or make them better. They just keep coming and I… I'm just useless." Her gaze flicks to Faolain in apology, her ears splayed. "I keep letting everyone down."

Her gaze drops then, and she turns back to Iscariot, not yet willing to let them lighten the burden she carried.

FILLY | MUTT | 14.3 HANDS WFG | BAY DUN SABINO | THE RIDGE | BJORN x SIOBHAN | LOVEINSPIRED | CREDIT