“Good!” she says with a loud bout of laughter, her face lighting up magnificently and pressing her painted lips to his cheek, “because I have no intention of abandoning a friend that I have just made, not again.”

She had walked away from something good when she had left the Shore behind her, something that may have ended up being magnificent had she been able to stay. But the sorrow of her father’s passing and the anger at the incident in the Thicket had left Rosaline with an urge to wander. It was in her blood, for as Array had been a man of the Cove; Everett had been a woman of the wind, she had never stayed in the same place for more than a few years – Reyjavik, Azza, the Islands, they had all been temporary, and she had passed this wanderlust to both her daughters.

Rosaline had left, she had wandered, and what she had intended to be a few months had turned into a few years, and broken all her dreams of the Shore in the process. How could she expect Deboniare to wait for her when he had other people to care about – god, she doesn’t even remember their names. That was something she would do different this time around.

“That sounds fair enough Blackmore. I think most people hope for that, somewhere to return to at night. Somewhere that makes them feel loved – wanted,” she pauses, drawing her eyes towards the sky, lost in the gentle sound of their hooves against the ground. “I want to thank you, for inviting me here. It was good of you,” and then she brings her brilliant smile back towards him, “Where’s the best view?”