He can fell it, the moment she realizes that this is not the happy, effortless reunion she'd been hoping for. A piece of him curses that he couldn't let them have that. That he couldn't put away his pride long enough to feel the joy he knew they should both be absorbed in right now. In his own way though, he was as stubborn as she. Perhaps that had been their undoing in the first place.
Her curt response is biting, and he can feel her grasping at the idea like it will save her life. The deflection is reflex like for the mare, her defense against what she won't face. He's seen it before, the warrior woman always ready to take charge and wrestle the situation to her advantage. Now it seemed she was ready to put him in the place of her adversaries.
Raul snorted, one forehoof stamping to gouge a streak from the red earth. "Damn it, mare! You know perfectly well that's not what I said." His voice growled from deep in his chest. It was physically impossible for him to yell, the long ago damage to his throat had rendered anything over a low speaking voice painful.
Oh, but he wanted to yell, and to scream and to cry until things made sense again. Until he understood what had driven her to leave him, scared and alone and wondering what he'd done wrong. The world had been been dark place, and how long had he waited for some sign that she was still in it? That if she wasn't his, she was at least safe and happy.
No sign, no word came. He'd been left to imagine any number of horrors befalling the girl he'd fallen in love with and had sworn to protect. Now she stood before him, every wall in place, and for what? What did she need to hide so much that she would not grant him the basic courtesy of an explanation.
She speaks again, in tight and fragmented sentences. This is, at least, confirmation of what he'd learned so far from Clegane. That the boy was in fact his son. Another twist of the knife that Warlight wielded so deftly, that she had not seen fit to return even once their child had been born.
Cold, clinging pain filled his heart. It threaded every inch of him, the razor wire that held him together these days. "Warlight..." Had it always been like this between them? Was it only the brutality of the plague days that had given them a leg to stand on? He didn't, couldn't believe it. Not yet. "Warlight," he started again, and closed the distance between them once more to lay his face against the blessed warmth of the crowned mare's neck.
"I know our son. He has lived in my care the last year or more, and we have both missed you dearly. Why can't you understand that? That I have missed you every day since our parting, every night, and that I have never once stopped wondering if you were safe. Am I so unworthy that you cannot give me the honesty due a loved one? Even a past loved one." A shuddering breath rattled through him. Years of unspoken emotion welled within him, a last ditch hope that if he threw his pride at her feet, it would be enough.
@[Warlight]
Her curt response is biting, and he can feel her grasping at the idea like it will save her life. The deflection is reflex like for the mare, her defense against what she won't face. He's seen it before, the warrior woman always ready to take charge and wrestle the situation to her advantage. Now it seemed she was ready to put him in the place of her adversaries.
Raul snorted, one forehoof stamping to gouge a streak from the red earth. "Damn it, mare! You know perfectly well that's not what I said." His voice growled from deep in his chest. It was physically impossible for him to yell, the long ago damage to his throat had rendered anything over a low speaking voice painful.
Oh, but he wanted to yell, and to scream and to cry until things made sense again. Until he understood what had driven her to leave him, scared and alone and wondering what he'd done wrong. The world had been been dark place, and how long had he waited for some sign that she was still in it? That if she wasn't his, she was at least safe and happy.
No sign, no word came. He'd been left to imagine any number of horrors befalling the girl he'd fallen in love with and had sworn to protect. Now she stood before him, every wall in place, and for what? What did she need to hide so much that she would not grant him the basic courtesy of an explanation.
She speaks again, in tight and fragmented sentences. This is, at least, confirmation of what he'd learned so far from Clegane. That the boy was in fact his son. Another twist of the knife that Warlight wielded so deftly, that she had not seen fit to return even once their child had been born.
Cold, clinging pain filled his heart. It threaded every inch of him, the razor wire that held him together these days. "Warlight..." Had it always been like this between them? Was it only the brutality of the plague days that had given them a leg to stand on? He didn't, couldn't believe it. Not yet. "Warlight," he started again, and closed the distance between them once more to lay his face against the blessed warmth of the crowned mare's neck.
"I know our son. He has lived in my care the last year or more, and we have both missed you dearly. Why can't you understand that? That I have missed you every day since our parting, every night, and that I have never once stopped wondering if you were safe. Am I so unworthy that you cannot give me the honesty due a loved one? Even a past loved one." A shuddering breath rattled through him. Years of unspoken emotion welled within him, a last ditch hope that if he threw his pride at her feet, it would be enough.
@[Warlight]