Is that really you?

Though she had been tired, Iolaire was ever alert. It came with living out in the skull on the ridge for so long. Yes, she had Ila and Ashur to warn her if danger came, but the was an independent woman and relied on herself first and foremost. When the voices began, soft as they were, she was awake. The emaciated fae's eyes pulled open at a rip the very moment that Roan's voice filled the ear. With a cry of alarm and anguish, Iolaire wrenched herself away from the two giant wolves, backing up onto the stone of the hearth until she almost stood within the fire itself. The orange glow illuminated her pelt immensely, making the tiny, fairy wolf look otherworldy for that moment in time.

Green and gold eyes drifted from one wolf to the next in pure disbelief. Had Sirius called Roan here in these strange times? How? And why? Why hadn't Roan ever answered her before? Why hadn't he come to her after all this time? The comment that Sirius made about her future stuck in Iolaire's ears and she gritted her teeth together until they made an audible squeak. "What good is a future when the past consumes so wholly?" She could barely bring herself to look at Roan's handsome, scarred face. "You died. It was my fault. Then I died and it was my fault. None of this is real. Or everything is real." She didn't know what she was saying. Her mind was reeling and her eyes were wide, though there were no tears within them. There were no tears in Iolaire, ever.

"Nothing that anyone says will fix anything that's happened. There's no coming back from the dead." At least she could admit that. It was easier to think that she was dead as well, but deep down inside, Iolaire knew that she was not. Accepting that she and everyone in the world was already dead would make their true, inevitable deaths easier. Wasn't it more kind to herself to just accept that they were dead and gone?

Roan was there... but he wasn't. She had buried his lifeless corpse. He was dead. Dead and gone. Dead and here. Still dead. Always dead. And she... was not. Iolaire had lived this whole time. Lived through that death, that loss, that heartache and insanity. It wasn't much of a life, but she had lived it. There was pain in the silver and shadow man and she could see it on his troubled features. It was difficult to be kind when in such shock, but she tried. "Go back to your rest, Roan. Do not be troubled by thoughts of me. I will survive as I always have."

Alone.

Pushing away from the fire, the tiny woman slid from the hall and out of the castle. She needed to be alone. Leaving Sirius and Roan behind in the stone keep, the moment that Iolaire's paws touched grassy earth, she ran and ran and ran and didn't stop until her body gave her no choice.

"Speech"