“ what are you doing here? it’s the middle of the night. ” (for Famine)
The horseman opened her mouth to speak, but then thought better of it, offering a half hearted shrug instead. There was no good answer to Niamh’s question. Just confessions she wasn’t ready to make or even face enough to be coherent about them.Â
“I realized I was in the area, thought I’d drop in,” she finally said, “I didn’t exactly consider the time.” That wasn’t exactly true. Famine had been aware it was late and that showing up on your ex-lover’s doorstep in the witching hours of the night was a unique look, but she was so tired of being alone, scared of being alone, and the thought that someone was nearby that she could actually trust, whose company wasn’t dangerous, whose presence would draw Famine out from the tangle of thoughts in her head was impossible to resist.Â
“Niamh,” Her voice broke slightly as the name left her lips and she hated it, “I am so tired of being alone.”
