The question from Iona surprised Alysanne, enough that it actually shocked her brain into thinking it over for the first time. Was it even about Tembovu? First it had been Mauja, his close relationship to her daughter, and then her anger had even been directed at Naerys - the growing girl who could never stay still for too long and made (what she still considered to be) some questionable friendship choices. And then Tembovu had given her an excuse to be angry that outweighed both of them.

“Well maybe.” Was her petulant answer to the question of whether she really believed Tembovu would burn down this forest. Given even provocation, she was certain it could happen. Perhaps not with no regard for the life within the forest - she imagined he’d feel incredibly guilty afterward while they were all condemned to fiery graves. He had almost lost control during their conversation, what if something more serious happened?

But she didn’t explain all of that to Iona, as her sister tried to explain how it was okay to be angry.

And she knew that Iona meant what she was saying because her voice didn’t raise in annoyance or anger - she spoke passionately, trying to alleviate Alysanne’s fears - and the soft touch to her shoulder further encouraged the doctor to crumble. She shut her eyes against the tears welling there as she listened, as Iona explained things that Alysanne was ashamed of losing site of - that Helovia was so much better than Nocturne, where they had faced actual demons.

It was true, all of what she was saying was true, but these hadn’t been things Alysanne had been able to riddle out for herself lately. She needed this - needed Iona there to reassure her.

“No, I’m not ready to give it up.” She managed to breathe out a response to that question, at least.

“How do I stop it from eating me alive, Iona? I feel like I’m drowning in my anger until it explodes, bringing pieces of me along with it. I don’t know how to just move on when someone provokes it when I went most of my life without this terrible emotion.” It was only getting worse as time went on - building up for years before this conversation, the first time she was allowing herself to actually address the issue. And, of course, she was only doing it now because Iona was forcing her to. “How do you manage it? How does everyone live with this fire eating at them?”

“No, I’m not useless. My profession… I wait to clean up the injuries after and do what I can so they can continue fighting. But I want to stop the fighting before it begins, Iona.” Her sad green eyes met with her sister’s as she tried to sort out what was going on in her mind and heart so that they might both understand. “A few years ago, the herd that used to live here decided they weren’t safe with the Moon Goddess anymore and they invaded the Falls. I had seen a few spars before that but that was war. I remember freezing up as soon as I entered after the soldiers because I couldn’t believe the ferocity that my brethren were attacking those that were unsuspecting. I healed both sides during it because I was so ashamed of what my herd mates were doing, pushing out another herd because they no longer cared for their home instead of just asking to be a part of it - because some headstrong stallions wanted to keep their titles as king.” Her wings rustled in anger just at the thought but she shook her head with a snort and banished thoughts of them. “I stayed behind because I couldn’t condone what was done and because the Edge was - is - my home. I never want to see war fall on these lands again. And I thought… if I could fight, maybe I would be able to stop it somehow before it began again. Maybe they’d listen to me while I tried to stop it if I wasn’t just a healer.” A soft sigh served as her final punctuation, feeling foolish about these thoughts now that she was speaking them out loud and explaining them to someone. Hemlock did what he could and soothed what he could but the first bond Alysanne had ever formed was with Iona and if there was anyone that could help her through this, it was her other half.