Hushed Willows [m] Never gonna allocate all of this dark hate

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Reverie had not tried to prompt intimacy from @Boone since the day she'd made him feel unsafe. The realization had delivered a harsh blow to her confidence, but more than that, it had started to stir — memories. Things she would rather not remember at all.

Riordan. He was dead now, her final memory of him a ruin of red and exposed bone and sinew, and Reverie had always wondered why she had not grieved the sight of it. But she remembered now. "If you love me, you'll learn to like it." And the feeling of being paralyzed, of not wanting to hurt him with her rejection even as he was hurting her. And crying into the silence of the aftermath, and finally running, and finally forgetting.

She wished she could forget again. She wished she had never looked for Boone that day. There was a new fear in her now, a fear that she had become someone she no longer knew. That she was like Riordan; someone who hurt those she loved.

Sometimes it was all just too much. Reverie paused in her task of marking the borders, plagued by her thoughts, and went to her den. There she retrieved a bundle of dried leaves she'd collected while autumn was still in its early stages, a broad-leaf plant she knew as catwort. She set a few leaves aside and returned the rest to its place.

Reverie took the leaves with her to Opal Lake, settling beside it to chew them slowly. She watched the sun creep across the sky. And she did not think about Riordan.

While she liked the Hushed Willows, Wayfarer was not so sure that Hearthwood could ever truly be a home to her.

A base, perhaps, like how she'd ultimately come to view the glacier in the final months when her family was falling apart at the seams. The wanderer much preferred the idea of calling the woods that instead of "home", which sounded so... certain? Final? Wayfarer was in no way prepared to settle, but she wanted to try and make the best of her time among the wolves of Hearthwood.

Reverie made her want to try harder - be better. Wayfarer recognised that as she happened across the gilded Coach at the lake's edge and lingered, allowing herself a moment to appreciate the way the Winter sun reflected a warm sheen on her coat. She carried on toward her and emitted a low note in greeting as she sidled in close, silently supportive as her amber gaze took in the serene quiet of the land stretched out before them.

I told you they'd be gone for Winter, she smirked at last, noting the absence of ducks from the water with a mischievous sideways glance.

She was overcome with self-loathing even as she tried to numb herself to all feeling. What had she ever touched that she didn't destroy in the end? Even Everett, even Tybault; her own brothers had seen only madness and selfish sorrow in her, and they too had abandoned her then. And she would never be more than this.

She wondered sometimes if Boone looked at her and saw their future, saw her content and tucked 'round a child with dark eyes and fur like a midwinter dawn. She wondered if he understood that it would never be such a perfect picture. Not for her. Reverie desperately wanted to give him children, but was she even fit to be a mother? Blossom descended more into her sorrow with each day, so like her father that Reverie had begun to withdraw from her. She couldn't watch it happen. Not again. Not again.

And now she had done something unforgivable. Or at least, she couldn't forgive herself. Never, she would never —

Wayfarer's voice startled her from her spiral. Reverie only blinked at her for a moment, slow to process the playful comment while her sense of reality shifted to adjust for the sudden realization that she was not alone. Oh, right. Ducks. She giggled softly, her gaze following Wayfarer's out to the water.

Then the tears started to well in her eyes. Reverie tried to wipe them away discreetly. Um, Her voice wavered, a little thick with emotion in spite of her attempt at normalcy. Do - do you like it here? So far? Reverie stole an anxious glance at Wayfarer, truly invested in the answer. Hearthwood was — it was Boone's dream more than hers, if she was honest. She would have been content to stay at Kvarsheim, or even Akashingo. But she wanted her friends to be happy here, and for Boone's sake, she wanted the pack to thrive.

Reverie had tried to wipe her face, but Wayfarer saw the way their afternoon sun glistened in the wetness of her eyes as she shifted to seek her gaze. The rogue's smile faltered then, fading to a contemplative frown to accompany the lines of concern that furrowed her brow. Regret began to seep into her bones; had the gilded leader come here for privacy, away from the pestering of pack-mates? Wayfarer blinked, anxious of that waver in her friend's voice and unsure how to answer the question she asked of her.

She did like the place that'd been chosen to settle the wolves of Hearthwood, but carried her own reservations - about others in the pack, particularly about Boone. Her russet-kissed lobes flicked back. This uncertainty about her new Alpha male was unwarranted and unfair, yet she couldn't shake the irk he roused in her. The reaction from the wolfess at the meeting when she simply saw him sprung to mind but it wasn't something Wayfarer wished to address with Reverie. It was not her business, not really, not until there might come a reason to make it so.

If I didn't, she chose to say, I wouldn't still be hangin' around. It was fondness for Reverie that kept her close, a quiet desire in her to see the Coach succeed.

Reverie smiled tentatively at that, her mood lifted by Wayfarer's affirmation of her continued presence. I worry sometimes that I'll - fail. As a leader, She admitted softly, wondering if the confession itself was a failure on her part. The thought of leading a pack had never crossed her mind until it slowly became reality, and even then she hadn't thought much of it. She'd assumed Boone would handle all of their decisions, and that would be enough.

But the reality of many things was crashing down on her in this moment, and her position as a leader was among them. Easier, too, to slide into this particular melancholy with Wayfarer here; she could hardly cry about her past or how she'd made a mess of things with Boone to her new friend.

I'm not sure I know what kind of leader Hearthwood needs. What - what do you think a leader should be like? Her gaze turned more fully to Wayfarer now. Maybe it started here. Maybe it started with asking those she was meant to be responsible for.

Wayfarer inhaled deep, then released it steadily. Was it this worry that'd gotten Reverie so down, had reduced her to tears? Her frown deepened, and her immediate concern was that Boone might be responsible for the weight of emotion that'd built in her.

Relationships were something the rogue had long avoided, having preferred to keep others at arm's length. They were complicated things. Her thoughts shifted briefly to the darkness she felt as a girl, living in her mother's shadow. She should've been able to count on her parents, but had seemed more like an inconvenience to those who'd recklessly brought her into the world.

We all fuck up sometimes, she sighed, knowing how terrible she was at giving advice or comforting those around her. Wayfarer rolled a slim shoulder in a shrug, nobody's perfect. Don't feel like you have to be. Some days, life was about just getting by. Hearthwood was only newly established - knowing what it needed was tough, because its wolves were only mere acquaintances. We will get by. If we don't, then it's just something else to learn from. You're doing fine so far, Rev. So get your head out of your ass. The smirk dared to return, and her tail gave a hopeful, tentative sway as she leaned in to bump shoulders.

Reverie managed a soft giggle at that last part, knowing Wayfarer meant well by it, but even so she wished fiercely for Boone and his reassurance. He always seemed to know just what to say. Wayfarer was kind, but she — she wasn't him. And Reverie had been looking for more of an opinion from her, truthfully; something that might tell her how she could meet Wayfarer's needs as her leader. Still, the soft bump of their shoulders was comforting.

Thanks, Wayfarer, She said softly, though the fear was not gone from her. Her gaze was shy on her friend, hesitating, and eventually found the lake again. I um - I've never been responsible for so much before. Well, I've raised my daughter - but I had a lot of help with that... Reverie trailed off a little wistfully before she began again.

What was it like living on a glacier? She asked next, eyes flicking briefly back to Wayfarer. When - when it rained, did that freeze too? These were questions Reverie had been holding on to since their first meeting, never finding the right time for them. But she hoped now that it might give her more insight into what Wayfarer expected from a home.

Reverie thanked her, and Wayfarer's expression softened. She took in the perfection of her face, gilded and kissed by Winter sunlight, the way it reflected in the warmth of her eyes. It was unfortunate that the new Coach was so plagued by uncertainty, because she had so much to offer Hearthwood. Wayfarer had seen it herself, the way she could light others up.

The conversation shifted toward herself, unexpectedly, and the glow she felt lost herself momentarily in the sunflower shade of her companion's gaze was promptly snuffed out. Cold crept it's way into her being, seeping deep into the marrow of her bones and daring the pierce the very heart of her.

She thought of what Duskfire Glacier could've been and recalled the failures of her parents: her mother, too focused on herself to provide and her father, stupid enough to challenge one of Mother Nature's storms. For a long time she'd been angry over them, mourning the family she deserved but never experienced, but as she matured she carried only the dull ache of disappointment.

It was fine, she lied, though her words were flat as she glanced away; her heart gave an uncomfortable lurch as she thought of Veteran. Nothing special. The rain did freeze often. We moved from there after my father died, but I decided to carry on by myself not long after.

So the rain did freeze! Reverie very much would have liked to see that, but before she could say so, her attention was caught by Wayfarer's next words. After my father died. Her expression turned solemn.

I'm sorry. I - I know what it's like - to lose family that way, She still thought of Rose sometimes. Not as much as she once had, and that thought ached, but she knew that it was only healing. Reverie reached out to lay one of her paws atop Wayfarer's. Maybe you could show me sometime? The glacier.

Only if you want to, She added quickly, realizing abruptly that her thoughts were beginning to blur. No, they already had — it was only that she hadn't noticed, relaxed as she felt. Reverie had expected it, but she hadn't expected company. As long as Wayfarer didn't notice, she thought, maybe it would be okay.

Wayfarer let her thoughts wander, which could be a dangerous thing. Talking about her father wasn't hard, not like it used to be, but her memory of him was weak. She could recall his dark face, the deep cobalt of his eyes that Veteran had shared with him, but the baritone of his voice was lost to her. The scent of him? She wasn't so sure she could remember the comfort of those woven among the tendrils of his furs.

Had he ever told her that he loved her?

Her whole body gave a little jolt of surprise at Reverie's tender, unexpected touch. Wayfarer glanced her way again, Amber eyes blinking, and took a moment to fully register what she was saying. Visit the glacier? The cold seeped into her bones at the thought.

Yeah, I... maybe, she gave a stumbling answer, and dared to lower her gaze to look at the contact Reverie had made between them. She maintained it, content for it.

Perhaps another time, Reverie would have noticed Wayfarer's discomfort; she would have apologized, offered what comfort she could. But here and now her thoughts were a barely-coherent mess. She felt the shift and only lingered on it for a moment. Her gaze drifted before fixing on Wayfarer again, and what she did notice was where the woman's eyes were. Pretty eyes, looking down at their point of contact.

She felt her heart in her throat.

I, um... Reverie reached for something to say, something — safe. Yes, she recognized this now; this, whatever lingered between them except that it couldn't. She was married. Wayfarer knew that, didn't she? And in the spring she would know again, in the same way everyone would; in the spring — I don't think I'm ready. For spring. I won't be going anywhere for... a long while, at least.

She looked away as she said it. I almost died with Blossom, This was one way to kill a moment, but Reverie was hardly thinking about that anymore. Her thoughts were swept away in spring now; her fear; Boone's desperate want for children. She was married. She wondered sometimes if that had been a mistake.