Esther doesn’t know what to do when Sigurdr denies her fears, when he reassures her that he’s thought of her every day since they parted. She’s...never been wanted before. She’s never been picked first, never been the sort of mare that stallions consider a prize or dwell on when she’s gone. Esther knows that a lot of that is her own fault, never letting anyone get close and always slipping away from any commitment. But this is an entirely different situation; a foal is involved, now, and it changes everything. So hearing Sigurdr’s warm, low voice confessing he missed her is music to Esther’s ears. She’d expected that they’d never bump into one another on these vast isles, or if they did, they’d nod politely and pretend that they hadn’t met. She’d expected to have to raise this foal entirely alone,struggling to keep them both alive and fighting for their survival - no life at all for an innocent newborn. Her smile is watery when she offers it, but Esther doesn’t have the chance to sob again because SIgurdr draws in close. She lets herself rest against him, drawing warmth from his broad, handsome form.
When Sigurdr mentions warmth, Esther’s breath catches in her throat, suddenly filled with hope that is beginning to chase away the terrible, oppressive dread. Somewhere unaffected by Winter is what she needs; food, shelter, warmth. If Esther can manage that, then she’s certain that whatever follows could be handled. “Who is Faolain?” she manages to get out, concerned about this strange mare who can hold a lush territory, who will welcome a foreign stallion and a strange, pregnant mare. Whoever she is, wherever it is, Sigurdr glows as he reflects on it, which is reassuring. “I’ve never been to the Ridge, or to Atlantis…” She hesitates for a few long moments, and Sigurdr reaches out, urging her head up. Their gazes meet, and Esther has a stray thought that whatever child they have, she hopes their eyes are as king as Sigurdr’s are at this moment. “If you really think she will shelter me- if you’re really willing to stay. Then I think we should go now; before it gets colder. Before I get...much larger.” She doesn’t need to be swimming in the icy, turbulent ocean while she’s heavily pregnant. Better to go now, beg aid from the stranger before she’s as large as a house and cannot safely make the swim.
ooc note: we can continue here, or call it & open a new thread in the ridge - let me know what you prefer!