Stavanger Bay What I know tomorrow, I'm learnin' today

Bridget was exhausted by the time she returned, but she’d decided to go regardless of how Reverie answered. She would need to eat something and the chance she’d want them was worth the time it had taken combing the cliffs for nests. She dropped the small cluster of eggs off by the den shared by the two, but before finding her own sleep, she set off in search of the husband.

He had to be nearby and she wanted to meet him formally. @Lestan was a mystery to her still, but she’d noted his behavior and wished to check in. It was possible there were things he needed to, but was putting off in the hopes his wife would improve.

figure they should have one!! If and when you have time <3

things had — 
reverie cried more and more often, as the evening drew and as the dawn came. it tore at him in almost the same way her blood did, if not moreso in the difference that he, once more, had hurt her.
lestan was widely bewildered; he spent his energies between caring for blossom and bringing meals to reverie's bedside. if they were uneaten, he buried them, or chewed the morsels himself, or shared them with their daughter.
despair settled against his sense of determination, each vying for the upper hand within him. today lestan lost its battle; he went out against the curve of the ocean to fish but instead stood with head hung, weeping quietly into the surf.
he did not hear bridget approach.

He was weeping. She wasn’t necessarily surprised, but it was confirmation of both what she’d thought and what Reverie had said.

Some men would be ashamed, but Bridget wasn’t one to give in to that kind of bullshit appearance. There was nothing wrong with pain and the less someone learned to hide it from the ones who cared, the happier they would be.

She stepped quietly alongside, leaving a short distance between them, and looked out at the sea also. If you want to talk about it, I’d like to listen. An invitation, but not an obligation. He didn’t know her, but the offer came with an ease that would hopefully be unmistakeable.

WOW SORRY <3

what bridget offered was a listening ear. lestan wiped his wet face and sniffled a bit, settling his haunches in the sand. "she says she's f-fallen out of love with me. or, is falling," lestan amended in a voice that was low and crisp with shame. "but she says s-she wants to k-keep working on us."
said aloud, lestan tasted the dejection in his own mouth and drew a long sharp breath. "i t-told her not to l-live for me, but for blossom, and i-i've devasted her. again." again, again, again. his eyes were hard upon the foamy curves of saltwater lapping along the beach.
"s-she said it's how s-she loves. she is s-so hurt."
lestan's face contorted; he bit the inside of his jaw to keep from weeping again. "she says she j-just keeps forgiving me f-for things, questions why else s-she would come back."
finally then he did crumple, burying his face in his paws. "i've seen her almost die so many times!" came his mournful muffled sobbing, and then the entire story came out in halting bits and pieces: their immediate infatuation with one another, the brief moment where they had come together and his unknowingness that it would begin a child —! then! 
her pregnancy, how he woke over and over to her screaming, her weeping, her bleeding; the talk of brothers and otherwordly glens and golden deer and witch curses; how he had not been there for blossom's birth, how the sight of more blood had caused him to run out, out, and almost die with fever.
how they had left their home after being forced into kinship with a healer who terrified reverie further with his medicines, how lestan too had taken the guilt into himself, the deep self-loathing that he had not protected her.
their flight here, their weakness; how she had almost died again, how the bleeding and the fluttering words went on, how he had —
— he had;
"i k-killed for her. right here, in saltshore." his voice was empty. "i killed a m-man and when i went back to her, she was almost dead again, and the blood, so — much."
by now he had lifted his head, tones falling into greyness, eyes swollen and filled with some miserable chasm. "she told me s-she was going to d-die, that no matter what happened, she would die." he told bridget the story of how he had gone to find the witch and brought back her children, everett's appearance, and the terrible words lestan and reverie had shared. "she threatened to take her own life. just like — bridget, i don't think i-i'm any good for her. i d-don't think i can k-keep her healthy."
and there it was, all out, not so much a hand played as a deck of cards thrown into the air.
the mayfair man was silent.

It was so much, and he’d clearly been carrying it all silently. She’d assumed that he was carrying the fear of loss, but there was also apparently death and threats and confessions too. This wasn’t going to be an easy one to address, but it also wasn’t her job. They’d never spoken before today. How could she know what to say?

Maybe she could still help, but in a different way. One that fell more in line with the way she’d learned to help those who were not friends, but were going through troubled times.

How do you think you fall short, in what she needs from you? She asked, carefully not accusatory. She wanted to know the things he thought were his fault and the ways he felt he’d failed. She knew the expectations he had for himself were undoubtedly unrealistic, and not standards he held Reverie to. She just needed to let him see it too.

"i s-said i was leaving her, that's why she s-said what she did," lestan said quietly. "t-there have been other times when i — when i spoke far more harshly t-than i meant, just in hopes that s-she would .... stay put, or accept h-help, or —"
the mayfair shook his head and inhaled the good salt air. "she says she f-feels rejected by me. emotionally and p-physically."
now the creeping shame; lestan closed his eyes. "the pregnancy was hard. t-the birth was hard. and t-the bleeding just went on and on until i — was too s-scared to touch her. to —" in embarrassment he hoped he would not have to elaborate.
"i guess i d-don't know. that part has been missing a long time, but i don't t-think it's all s-she needs from me. a-and at this point, i'm n-not sure i can give whatever that is. she needs safety. i h-haven't kept her safe. she n-needs — less fear around her. m-more sleep. not some high-strung, d-dead-bodied man whose — lack of control — has h-harmed her so much."
tears again, gently falling.

It was a flood of self deprecation and shame. Bridget stood under it and let it wash over her, recalling that Reverie had said so many of the same things. Not good enough, not loving enough, not supportive enough. Not enough in any way.

She moved slightly so that she could look at him directly. Lestan. You’re hard on yourself, but you are being put through things that normal wolves do not need to carry. It isn’t her fault, but it isn’t yours either. What are the things you need?

He’d said everything she needed that he wasn’t providing. He knew these things, but some of them he’d withheld anyway, and it wasn’t for no reason. He had needs, boundaries, and feelings too. He was pushing those aside and she felt the pressure deeply.

"i need to — go away. for a bit. and i n-need to know she'll be all right if i do."
there.
something eased in his chest. lestan sought to settle himself, steady his head. "i d-don't w-want to leave her, in any capacity. b-but i think if i s-suggest it, she will spiral. she thinks i'm going to leave her, i know she does." voice firming as he hurried on.
"i — there was a fever i suffered, and — i want to go back to that place, to remember."
half-made, disjointed; lestan did not expect bridget to parse all of what he had said.

She understood it, but she also knew why he worried. Reverie seemed to be extremely hot and cold with him, and leaving could tip things in a way that didn’t end well. It wouldn’t be right to let that stop him, though, if that was something he needed. He couldn’t sideline his own life for hers.

There’s nothing wrong or selfish about needing to do something for yourself. Just be honest with her. I can make sure things are fine while you are gone. She looked at him carefully, studying him a moment.

The fever and dream were things she’d caught briefly in the deluge he had laid out before, but it had been hard to catch any specifics. What answers are you looking for?

She wasn’t sure that they were things he needed to leave in order to find, if they were present somewhere within his mind. But she wouldn’t go so far as to prevent him from going. Maybe she misunderstood.

lestan shook his head. "i don't know. not really." he found it easier to keep his voice calm the longer he kept his eyes trained away from bridget, kept his breathing even.
"it just feels like — whatever happened to me out there, it changed me."
he felt crazed. sickened. he had never experienced such before. he had not said these things aloud.
"but i feel as if — whenever i'm away from her — i cannot be on my own. i s-stop — functioning. eating."
a breeze, crawling his shoulders.
lestan shivered, and his words fell away.

She had to think about that for a moment. He’d left and then felt ashamed for it, letting fear for her drive him away. He hadn’t had any time to heal from any of this. He was stuck in a cycle of fear and insufficiency that would drive about any wolf mad.

Is it guilt? Or fear of what you’ll come back to? She asked gently, hoping he would try to consider the answer and find it in himself. If there’s a root to that, it would be good to know it. You’ll need to eat if you go.

Just another time when Bridget wished there were two of herself; one to go with him and one to stay.

"i-i'm afraid if i go, if i go for any amount of t-time, when i come back, reverie will b-be —"
muscle twitching in his jaw, apologetic eyes lifted to bridget when he could once more.
"too afraid to go, t-too tired to stay."
the idea of food felt a thousand miles away; the thought of chewing anything exhausted lestan, and at last he sank down to belly and chin near the healer.

She could read his exhaustion plainly, and imagined the fear and tension had put out and light he might have carried. Bridget knew better than to blame Reverie, but it wasn’t necessarily his fault either. He was clearly a caretaker, and the things a wolf loved could remove the perspective that was needed to separate.

If permitted, she moved closer and settled in beside him, then began to tend to his coat in a similar soothing manner that she had Reverie’s.

We have a lot in common. It’s clear to me that you would give anything to help her. But if we sacrifice ourselves in the process, we are no good to anyone. You and Reverie both deserve better than that. She tried to deliver it gently, though she knew the words could be hard to hear.

That fear is natural and it isn’t something you should be ashamed of. But it’s okay to set it down sometimes, and to trust someone else to carry it for you. I promise that I’ll be here, and that I’m not going anywhere.

She’d had plans, but those were easy to set aside. This was her calling and as long as they needed her she would be here, working towards improving the situation for both.

bridget was right, of course she was right. and beneath all this rightness he was tired, so tired; he was so eternally exhausted with no hope of reprieve and so very tormented that he could scarcely comprehend one emotion from another.
he blinked and nodded; lestan blinked and weaved and finally nodded again, more heavily, with more finality.
"i'll talk to her, then," voice leaden, but with something new in his cornflower eyes when he glanced gratefully toward the healer who had so many words to give. "thank you."

Bridget watched him with sympathy in her gaze, but she was glad to see the acceptance he seemed to gain. It wasn’t right for him to set aside his needs in a way that hurt him deeply, and she could see the resentment that had begun to build between the two of them even with the short time she’d spent around the pair. She could not say if space would fix it, but she knew that his best chance was to do the things he thought was right. Allowing his guilt to hold him here would continue to destroy them both.

I would sleep, first. She said softly, standing and shaking out her thick pelt. She should take that advice as well, but she had a couple of things to finish up first. If you want to talk any more, about anything, you know where to find me. She sensed this particular conversation was done and that now he needed space to think on what he would say. She planned to check by the den again, and perhaps track down something of her own to eat, before finding sleep herself.