She doesn’t hear his approach over the noise of her own exclamation, and she cannot see him from where her head is hung in defeat, gaze cast low to the ground. So when she hears her name whispered in Sigurdr’s voice, she squeezes her eyes tighter. So now she’s not just pregnant, she’s crazy and hallucinating his voice. Could this day get any worse? Esther lets out a desperate, gasping sob and then slowly lifts her head, blue eyes finally opening to fall on….Sigurdr. Ah. So the day actually can get worse.
“Sigurdr,” she breathes. How is he here? How has he found her? Nothing ever, ever works out like this for Esther. She had never expected to see him again, other than idle imaginings during long, lonely nights that she may be lucky enough to happen upon him again. Of course, he has to find her again like this - throwing a pointless, immature little tantrum. It’s hardly a good look, and not the way she wants to make a second impression. It’s not the look she wants to present as...well...as the future mother of his child.
Sigurdr has drawn close to her now, slipped across the frozen field and he’s staring intently, gaze falling heavy on her swollen sides. Esther blushes, and cannot meet his gaze. He’s as handsome as she remembers, his striking, silver coat shot through with black and making her breath catch. He’d looked stunning against the gold of autumn, but in winter he almost blends with the landscape, dark, odd splashes casting him in stark relief to the icy ground below him. Here she is swollen and tear-streaked and miserable, and he looks as perfect as she’s ever seen.
“How are you here?” Esther finally asks, taking a cautious half-step forwards. She’s still not entirely certain he’s real, that this isn’t some vivid imagination her terrified mind has conjured up. The shock in his tone when he asks if she’s carrying their child is enough to bring her back to reality, and she takes a shaky, upset breath before slowly nodding. “It...it’s early,” she says shakily. Esther takes another deep breath, and then looks away, gaze falling over Sigurdr’s shoulder so she doesn’t have to watch his reaction. “But yes, I...I think it’s the only explanation.” She steps forward again, extending her head and pressing her muzzle against him briefly. “What are we going to do? I don’t...Sigurdr, I don’t know if I can do this.”