Like the stone foundation of their mountain home, the pair of Vulcans were adamant; unyielding.

And yet somehow— in the moment that they came together— the blanketed mare and her dark companion changed. Somehow, obsidian and iron softened, their sharp edges falling away as they ceded to one another. Like clay shaped by a gentle-but-firm hand, the unlikely pair molded themselves around one another stiffly at first, hesitantly. But at the first press of Adelheid’s lips, the dark brown woman felt her fears and doubts melt away like frost beneath the sun’s glow. Exhaling her breath in a ragged sigh, Iris even found herself arching into each kiss, her slender body twining more deeply around the Codebreaker’s more-muscular form. As if by clinging to the other tightly enough, she could not only claim Adelheid, but keep her. Nothing the black mare had ever said or done had indicated such a possibility, and yet—

Stay with me? As my Companion? Shock dissolved the languid pleasure of Iris’s thoughts, and her heartbeat stuttered. Dark-furred and still stretched over the broad plane of Adelheid’s back, the flush of warmth that pooled in her cheeks went mercifully unseen. But if the other mare was attentive, she would feel the erratic hitch of her breath and hear the contented hum that slipped past the tight ball of tears in her throat. In themselves, these two things might’ve even served to make her desire clear enough. But Iris, recalling the ache of their separation, could not entrust something so precious to the weight of unspoken words. As much of a struggle as she found it to share of her innermost thoughts and emotions— to leave her heart exposed— there could be no other way.

Swinging her body around so that they stood side-by-side, the spotted woman brushed her lips over the soft curve of Adelheid’s cheek and resisted the impulse to tuck her face into the inky mane. No hiding. Inhaling deeply of the crisp mountain air and her companion’s florid scent, Iris began in a voice as soft as unguarded as her expression had become. “I— Adelheid,” she began, ears twitching at the familiar and comfortable syllables of her companions’ name. At the way that they could twist her insides into knots. “How long have I lived here in the Peak with you?” It was a rhetorical question, and Gnome’s daughter proceeded on with scarcely a pause. “Long enough, to be certain. Perhaps I would’ve even said too long, if you’d asked me only a season or two ago.” One side of her lips quirked upward in a half-smile, her chocolate eyes laughing silently.

But just as quickly, Iris sobered.

“You and I— we’ve seen each other at our worst,” she continued. Hearing the ghost of every unkind word she’d ever said in her thoughts, and marveling that she had not yet managed to drive Adelheid away. “And as much my heart wants what you’re offering, I just—” The seal brown mare tossed her head in frustration, and then picked up the thread of her words again. “— I feel like we need to see each other at our best, too. That you deserve the chance to know me before you tie yourself to me. Before I can hurt you.” Meeting the other woman’s gaze, her eyes were both hopeful and imploring. Willing Adelheid to understand that it wasn’t a no so much as a yes that would still leave them with the freedom to turn away. To seek better things, if their hearts proved incompatible. Though for her, there was nothing that she had ever wanted more than that which she felt she couldn't accept.

For Iris, the freedom to turn away had been surrendered long ago.