to live and burn is
the most exquisite form of self destruction

The soft sounds of the Vulcans’ pursuit were a shock— but no more than the words that chased him, too. You're implying that we - that the Peak made them monsters. The young voice was calm, measured, but Rade was braced for the storm that would follow. He’d struggled enough with acceptance to know that it never came easily. Especially when it came to the convoluted ties between fate and free will. And then— Maybe you aren’t wrong. —he stopped, his mind a chaotic swirl that was no longer capable of controlling his limbs. The bachelors’ Boss was wrong, and never more glad to be wrong than when the girl continued. Describing the Peak’s own struggles to forge a new future. Echoing many of the same sentiments he’d already spoken.

Proving that they were not so different— and that both of them were capable of change. Perhaps capable enough to find the peace he sought— But the truth is I don’t trust you, Rade. Not yet.

—in time.

Turning back around slowly, the old stallion listened as Roisin continued. He listened to the repeated narrative about the pain she’d been put through, and this time let the barest traces of his regret bled through. Stepping back from the lingering bitterness he’d felt, it was easier for Rade to see where he, personally, had failed. If he’d focused less on Cullen and more on the Lagoon in the season that followed his appointment. If he’d come back to the islands sooner. If he’d never left them at all. An endless world of what-ifs unraveled before him, each thread as great a burden as the last. If he’d sent Cherish away from the Lagoon. If he hadn’t defended himself against his father’s attack, and died in Debonaire’s stead. If he’d clung to his soul-brother’s side, and left the islands long before they started to crumble.

But there was no way of knowing which thread to pull. And as the Vulcan’s next words reminded him, there was no change to be found in the past. Sucking in a breath, Rade did what he could to rebury the cornucopia of his regrets and turn his attention back to the future. To the vision the girl’s speech resurrected; to the islands being transformed for the better. To the Lagoon and the Peak working towards that goal— separately for now, but perhaps someday together. For a heartbeat, the palomino glimpsed a future where he stood at Roisin’s side. Where he fought with her, perhaps even for her. And it was a glorious dream, but so implausible that he struggled not to roll his eyes at it. Because the last thing he needed was for the two women to misinterpret that reaction as another alleged slight.

“It won’t be enough,” the Boss began instead, the frustration evident in the soft gravel of his voice. “Even with every Vulcan and every bachelor. The other islands, there isn’t a single one that doesn’t outnumber us. And plenty among them that are…’bad eggs’, if my sources are to be believed.” Carbon and his father. Frey. Hell, even Tyr had returned from Atlantis with some foreboding rumors. And it wouldn’t matter how carefully the Peak and Lagoon rebuilt the world if there were others who wanted nothing more than to watch it burn. “Yet I give you my word that the Lagoon will work for good— as long as you understand that the bachelors will always answer force in kind. I cannot ask my men to lie down while the rest of the world walks over them.” Rade paused— his gaze flickering between the pair— and then offered one final idea.

“Our Marauder has vanished, but I intend to put his successor in charge of monitoring the Commons. If your Codebreaker can likewise be spared, then perhaps between the two of them they can stem the flow of… unwilling bodies.”

stallion . palomino roan . mustang mix . 15.1hh
debonaire x neassa