Róisín had taken to haunting the outer edges of the Commons in the past few weeks as autumn dragged inexorably to a close. As it did every year, the season enticed out a bewildering array of hopefuls and scattered them across the Commons to find their new home. The dun mare knew she needed to be more proactive about garnering new members for the Peak, but many of the individuals she encountered were either in rapt conversation with a partner or clearly ill-suited for a life among the Valkyries.
It was just as well, though. Róisín's true purpose here was to protect those that she could from those that would do them harm. Staying out like this did put her at more of a risk, but she was unafraid. She had amassed a kit of useful skills that could help her stay safe while she continued on her mission, so long as she didn't let her guard down.
A fast staccato set of hoofbeats draws her attention upward toward a creature that she would have recognized anywhere, and she stood there dumbfounded for a long moment, her mouth literally agape as she processed it. They were back. Or, at least, her brother was back. Gods only knew if her father was too. The muddled combination of love and frustration that always arose when she thought of her father tightened her throat, but did nothing to still the beat of her hooves as she raced to intercept her sibling.
"No," she growled as she raced toward him, her dark-rimmed ears plunged beneath the tangle of her mane. Sigurdr was hardly the original source of her problems with her father, but he was the closest Róisín had come to seeing Bjorn in many years. Seeing him lay a claiming nip across a mare's shoulder as if he were no different from the likes of a common brute was all the impetus she needed to take out her frustrations on him.
The newly elected Prime Minister darted around the pretty bay mare with her delicate figure and ethereal beauty to charge into her brother's frame, her own jaws agape as if to place her own claiming nip over his shoulder. The size and age differences that had once given Sigurdr such massive advantages over Róisín had faded with time, and in the days they'd been parted, she'd spent her time growing stronger and more skilled. She may not be his exact match on a battlefield, but she knew for certain that she wasn't going to make it easy for him either.
Her teeth snapped shut, although she could not say if she managed to grab ahold of him or the wild tangles of her own mane, but she spit out whatever was in her mouth and whirled to place herself between the exotic little mare and Sigurdr. The thrill of the fight thrummed through her body and while she'd love to go a full round with him, she refused to risk the mare getting scared off without understanding the purpose of Róisín's interference.
"You can ask her with the manners I know you have, or you can go home without her," Rói offered defiantly with a switch of her tail as she glared at him... This was, admittedly, a pretty bold claim given that Róisín had no control over the decisions that this nameless mare would make, as her disastrous encounter with Tyr and Djuna had proven. Lifting her head so that she could keep both the pretty Arabian and Sigurdr in view, the dun softened her voice and addressed the other mare. "You are free to make your own choice, miss."