Meadow

róisín

The days without Iscariot were days devoid of meaning. It wasn't just that she was fond of the cream-colored stallion that had been a constant presence in her life, but that he was as close to a soulmate as she had ever had. Even if their relationship never transformed beyond the almost-not-quite-mentor-student bond that defined the first years of their time together, it remained true. Like a best friend with whom you were inseparable from the moment you met; one who would finish your sentences and read all of the things you didn't say even better than the things that you did. Someone who would hold the broken pieces of your heart together when they were dashed by absent fathers or cruel villains or the world itself. Someone that knew you, better than you knew yourself.

Roisin needed Iscariot, but she hadn't realized how badly until he wasn't there at all.

Now that they were together again (even if it was not for forever), Roisin couldn't bear to let him go. Even when he pushed away from, recoiling from the teary woman as she clung desperately to him, she couldn't stay away. Sobbing, she pushed closer again, attempting to hook the pale pink of her chin over his back. A better version of herself might have taken his protestations to heart - the way he recoiled, the way he said no, not just once but twice, and the way he remained unmoving beneath her anguished clinging.

But this Roi was no better than the sobbing, terrified child he'd found on the Ridge's mountaintops that day. Just as lost. Just as helpless. And just as sorry.

Gasping around the pain in her chest, she keeps her eyes squeezed shut even as she speaks hastily, hoping that if she can simply explain that he will understand how wrong she'd been and how sorry she was now. That if she could just make him understand, that he wouldn't hate her.

"No, Iscariot, I am sorry. I'm so sorry. It wasn't right f-for me t-to demand you to leave l-like that. I-I love you a-and I wanted that baby to love you too, and i-i-it's not my place to, to tell you h-how to have a family." She has no idea if he can understand any of the emotional torrent pouring out of her mouth but she cannot stop herself, not before she's managed to put it out there. "I-I thought you would still be there, in the Peak. I thought I c-could s-s-ay goodbye, but you were gone and I was s-so ashamed, and so-so-so-sorry. God, I'm so sorry Iscariot."

The physical details are slow to trickle in, too minor to penetrate the veil of tears that gather in her eyes and drip in salty streaks down her cheeks. But she cannot miss how small, how slender he is against her, a mere ghost of himself as if she had condemned him to death by exiling him. And as those details register, so too does the stiff way in which he stands, as if merely tolerating her sobbing, sorrowful confession.

Swallowing hard, she stepped back from him and turned her tear-filled eyes up at him in a question she was not brave enough to give voice to. She felt like her crime was unforgivable, but she couldn't picture a world in which she didn't have Iscariot in her life. He was her rock, the sturdy foundation, her center compass. He was the one that promised her that things could and would be better. That life was worth living and things were worth doing. Without him, what was the point?

mare . 4 . mutt . dun sabino . 14.3 hh . björn x siobhan . love

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