róisín

While Iscariot imagines an ice wall between them - cold and unyielding, all Róisín can think of is an ever-widening gulf. Iscariot stands next to him, but she's never felt as far away from him as she does now. It wasn't quite like being with a stranger, or even with the other Peak mares. There was a sense of loss in standing next to your best friend and knowing that you no longer understood each other like you used to.

She draws a shaky breath in after her question, dreading the answer as much as she dreads the argument that will precede it. "Yes, back," she echoes, her eyes prickling with frustration and sadness. Back to the Ridge. Back to his family. Back to his child.

I thought you wanted me here, he says, slicing at her resolve until it fluttered in the summit wind like little banners. Enough of it held against his onslaught for her to mumble against the tears that gather on her lids and in her throat. "I did. I do."

And god did she. As much as the Peak represented something new and exciting, it was also terrifying to be away from everything you'd ever known. The weight of what she needed to become was overwhelmingly heavy, and there was nowhere to put it down. Iscariot couldn't carry it for her (no matter how much he might like to), but he provided the support she needed when she wanted to give up. He was always there to remind her why she was carrying it all in the first place, because in the end, Iscariot was family.

And family needed to stick together.

"But you have a baby coming that will need you." Her voice quaked as she pushed out the words, and as her gaze flitted back to him, her jaw clenched and unclenched multiple times before she continued haltingly. "Just like I needed my dad."

The memories of months spent without her father were bad enough, but did not compare to the moments after each departure in which she'd realized he was gone. That she and her mother were not enough. She knew now, of course, that his absences did not stem from a lack of love for her or of worth on her end... but that didn't change the months she'd spent feeling that pain, over and over and over again. Sucking in a breath, she forces herself to continue.

"I couldn't make my dad stay then, and I can't make you go now," she says, trying to ignore the fact that she could make him go. As much as she hated the way the Peak was designed to operate, in the eyes of the women's law, he was somehow less than her. She could force him to go and force him to be a father, but the thought of stripping away his choice hurt as much as the thought of him being gone.

"But that baby deserves to have a dad that's there for her and loves her," she says, unaware of how easily she'd inserted herself into the scenario. Pleading with eyes as round as saucers, full to the brim with tears, she makes a final point "You've a-always taken care of me," she gulps out as she fights for her self control. "N-n-now you should take care of her."

mare . 3 . mutt . dun sabino . 14.3 hh . björn x siobhan . love

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