His anger sparked at the volatile emotion being stirred in her own breast. She felt a monsoon building in her head, every feeling withdrawing from her face, the tidal wave incoming. "You're right, I don't. It's not my job to keep tabs on your needs, Pteron. I'm not your wife." Her voice had grown steadily louder as the words flowed off her tongue, the final sentence a snapping of wind.
She let him step away, needing the space as much as he did. To collect herself and try for some composure. The smell of fish and warm fur wafted against her, scents that had been so ingrained in her life the last few moons. Her child was fed, the only important factor to be considered, what Pteron thought of his diet was irrelevant.
Maybe it was grossly optimistic, but she took a mouthful of grass anyway. It wouldn't settle her stomach, as much as she wished it would. Stress eating. She was stress eating, and she was pretty sure it was Pteron's fault. A quiet snort reached her ears, and she answered it with one of her own.
He shouldn't have come here.
Not if he wasn't prepared to face what was waiting for him. Had he really expected her to put everything on hold for him? That she would be sealed away in time, ready to pick things up right where they had left off as soon as he arrived on her doorstep? That wasn't how it worked, and she felt a thorn of incredulity that he would think that way. It's heartbreaking, the way the simple beauty of their friendship had gotten so twisted around.
She hated Reia, a mare she'd never met. Because she was taking for granted the treasure she had in Pteron. And a miserable little piece of her hated Pteron, for loving her only when it was convenient for him.
She wasn't sure what would happen when she heard him cross back to her. Her crest fell flat against her neck in anticipation, head rising as the mouthful of grass was hastily swallowed. Her eyes widened in surprise when instead of more growling, an apology feel from the stallion's mouth. He was as taut as tangled seaweed, and she could see regret in his eyes.
There was a fragile moment after he spoke. It was the same apology he'd offered her months ago, when she had taken him beneath the sea. She wasn't certain he had meant it then, and even less sure he meant it now. He should go. He should. She almost said as much, but what came out was different.
"I don't want you to go."
A harsh breath rushed from her lips, an exhale that she hadn't realized she'd been holding back. "I don't want you to go, but I can't... I can't have you looking at me like I've betrayed you somehow. And you can't look at Hal like he's somehow involved." She had never once thought that she would be in the position of the "other woman", yet here they were. His wife might be violent, but he claimed her still. So she could only be his friend. Nothing more. If she told herself that often enough, it would be true.
@[Pteron]