The words won’t come out, lodged within her throat in a tight ball of emotions that continue to leak through her eyes. He too should hate her, for leaving and avoiding everything they have done; was it not why he was here before her now on an island she didn’t think she’d be found on? She can only imagine Roheryn as well, her time away from the badlands having lasted longer, especially while she’d been pregnant. Was she to lose them both then? It was only right, she didn’t deserve either of them.

She waits to hear his words, teasing or not, she needs something more than his silence and stares that undo her on the very spot on which she stands as he too tries to make sense of his own feelings. Movement has her lifting her head, and he is there instead of running for the hills like she expects him to, moving to close the gap between them and hold her against him. His warmth slides against her own, his height giving him the advantage over her to pull her into an embrace she very much needed. Her tears wet the hair along his chest where she tucks her head, as if hiding from the world a while. Solomon was a solid sentry against what ails her, not yet speaking or prodding, just giving his support while she weeps for the position they are in, and the grief of what the snoozing girl’s just steps away would endure to survive after being brought into the mess that was now Feray’s life. WIth his feather light touch against the lines of her cheek she finds the strength to swallow back her grief and the running wet lines from her eyes cease momentarily. A slight turn of her face to him and her nose brushes his own, a wordless thank you.

“A daughter,” Feray manages to choke out on a whisper after a few seconds of inhaling his scent, “we have a daughter Solomon.” It is his right to know this, she tells herself; secrets she had planned to keep to herself unraveling right before her very eyes. So be it then, her resolution is silent, ears upright atop her head for the words that would surely leave the cove leader’s mouth at this news, but she is yet to be done telling him of their creation. “She has your eyes, the very green I wanted to hate yet I could not for I love her just as I do y-,” she breaks off, eyes widening in realization at the words that had been about to slip from her rambling mouth. Did she really? These feelings between them, the way fate always seemed to throw them together, did it really mean something more than just an idle connection they’d forged in passing?

Her lashes lower over her mismatched eyes, and her tone is lower and softer when asking the very question he no doubt wanted to hear from her lips, “would you like to meet Esmeray?”.