Duck Lake No one dies from love; guess I'll be the first

Some powerplay, let me know if it isn't okay!

Sleep must have come for her. She dreamed. No, not dreams, nightmares. Fitful sleep, restless sleep, cut short; she woke to @Lestan fast asleep, their limbs twined intimately, and remembered her nightmares. His eyes were cold in her memory. Reverie slipped from his embrace unthinking and desperate; uncomfortably overheated, itching, unclean. He stirred and settled again. She sighed her relief and turned away. She couldn't breathe; she needed space. Too much, too quickly. He held too much of her now. Reverie felt it keenly, the potential for hurt in his grasp. She had sensed the danger in their intimacy but this — this was beyond what she imagined. They say that love feels like a stolen heart, but she felt as if her lungs had been taken from her, ribs snapped, sternum cracked —
Open, and left bare for the world to see. Was this love? No; no. This was fear and raw unprepared vulnerability, this was a panic wound tightly around her, but maybe one day it could be love. Maybe vulnerability was just the first painful step. Her feet stilled in the snow, a glance cast over her shoulder at Lestan's sleeping form. She'd meant to leave him there, but she couldn't. Even now she felt drawn to him. She wondered if that was what she wanted: to love Lestan, to let him hurt her, to love him anyway because she knew she would. Or maybe she would hurt him; could she? That would mean this meant something to him.
She didn't know, couldn't guess at his feelings. She could only know her own.
What do I want?
I want…
She wanted to dance; she wanted to leave it all behind.
So she caught the breeze under her feet and spun patterns in the snow. She gathered winter in her fur and felt free. Never far from Lestan; caught in his orbit, him, the brightest star in a flickering world of light. All the brightest things burned, and she was only a girl who never could do what she was meant to. Everyone knew that you ran from fire.
She could only watch it grow.

lestan mayfair had slept in honeysuckle dreams.
he did not feel when reverie rose, did not feel her malaise nor fear; it was only when he reached for her and found her gone that he woke with a start.
her scent hung all over his fur in heavy tendrils. he smiled and leaned back for a moment with closed eyes, remembering —
and then was reminded she was not here and that, secondly, there might be a — small set of repercussions from this! did not all such pleasure end in such a way? it certainly seemed so!
and with his own stomach lurching and his own fear growing, lestan came awake and to his feet and ran to find her, stopping in the glittering snow with a heave of relief to see reverie only —
— dancing.

In this moment she did not want Lestan, with his kind words and his soft kisses and that breathless, consuming, addicting fear he gave her. She wanted the cold air against her cheeks and the snowflakes melting on her skin. She wanted, for a moment, to be free.
And for a moment she was; that was all it felt like, at least. She felt eyes on her. Lestan. Her dance faded away like the evening sun, and she was left with reality once again. His beauty; her fear. She could only look at him and wonder: what is he thinking? Is he afraid, too? His expression felt unreadable to her. Reverie found herself afraid to speak, afraid to ask the question lingering on her lips like a bad aftertaste. Maybe she didn't want to know the answer.

perhaps sensing these things, lestan hung back. he only watched her, seeing how truly wild and without reins she was, even the light pressure of his arms. reverie seemed made of air, of ethereal and whorling snow.
but still he did not come close; he was not sure if it was he or she but there seemed to be some new expanse between them. 
his eyes sought her own and asked after regrets for what they had done, for what they were.
against what they might become.

Her heartbeat drummed in her ears for a fierce panicked moment; then it calmed, and the world felt clarified. Reverie saw it then, her own question mirrored in his sunlit-sky eyes. Neither of them spoke; she realized that this was the moment she'd truly been thinking of, when she'd thought that they would need to be brave. One of them would have to reach out. Someone would have to ask the question.
I - I'm afraid, Spoken across the distance because she still couldn't bear to close it. If they were any closer she felt she would lose this clarity, this courage. Once the words started, they didn't stop. Of this. Us. I'm afraid of ruining it somehow - or that I already have, and I just don't know it yet. She took a step, and then another, because now that she was speaking it felt okay somehow. Closer, until she could see the details of his features and her breath caught at how much she adored them. I'm afraid of losing you. No qualifiers this time, no I know it's stupid or we barely know each other. It didn't matter. It didn't change how it felt.

"lose me?" lestan's brows knit and he too stepped closer, closer and closer until they stood untouching in front of one another.
"you can't lose me," he said softly, in a caress meant for her ears. he wished so much to kiss her in this strained moment. but he did not, he settled for meeting her eyes in silken lock.
"we don't have to do anything else. anything more. this is all right. one day a time, until you feel — safer, reverie."
lestan's breath was a wavering column.

You can't lose me; she wondered if he could see it, the moment her heart drew up tight in her chest and her lungs seemed to freeze. It felt like a promise, one she'd always wanted to hear from someone — anyone! But it was Lestan's lips it fell from, Lestan who wanted her. She wanted to cry, bafflingly. She wanted him to say it again.
But he went on and she realized that somewhere along the way, she'd lost sight of the reasons she wanted Lestan. It had all happened so quickly. She'd felt safe with him; she'd felt understood by him. Now she felt neither of those things. Now she only wanted him — blindly, desperately — and that thoughtless want had led them here. Those first reasons still existed, lying forgotten in the snow. Reverie gathered them up now and held them closely, and told herself to trust Lestan. It was all she could do.
She embraced him softly, and buried her face in the warm place where his neck and shoulder met. I'm sorry, She said, a little muffled by his fur. Maybe - I've been overthinking it all. Like I always do. I thought that maybe you wouldn't want me anymore, after we - She held tighter to him, then, and couldn't finish.

after — oh. oh!
lestan held her tightly. "that was the first time i — well. it would be hypocritical of me to cast you aside for something i did, too." something they had done together, more than once!
he wondered if her people prized purity. it did not seem likely but then, he did not know the inner workings of kvarsheim.
he kissed her crown, her cheek. "did you — enjoy it?" it certainly seemed as if they had, as if the two of them had somehow been deliciously guided by the thin thread of someone else's tantalizing scent.

Hypocritical? Reverie pulled away slightly to blink at him, but then he was kissing her and asking if she'd enjoyed it. I did, The words were a little breathy as she recalled it, briefly. Then she couldn't help but add: But it's different... for women. Back in The Gilded Sea, they would have - my father would have - Tears; damn them! She startled herself with the internal swear, and pulled back more, suddenly distraught.
The punishment is death, For being filthy, worthless, used; of course, the punishment for many things had been death in The Gilded Sea. So many things she'd lived in fear of for so long. She reminded herself that this was not The Gilded Sea. I would be... worthless, to them. But - The Gilded Sea is far from here. I left. I ran. She seemed to be trying to reassure herself, now. She blinked the tears away. They were gone, all of them, her whole family.
No. She was the one who was gone.

"death? for love?" he cradled reverie, her shoulders, her paws; his brow knitted because he could not understand. "for such joy? we are not in the gilded sea," lestan told her fiercely, bidding her listen and heed. "you are here, with me, beside a lake in the teekon wilds, where you and i are free to love each other in any way we want."
his lips curved in a grin now. "on the golden lake, each year we had a festival of fire, when the sun was hottest and moon was most full. a day of dancing. a night of love, with whomever you pleased, with as many as you wanted. it was our time to love, like this one was for you and i, reverie."

He seemed shocked; dismayed. It felt vindicating, to see his obvious confusion and displeasure with the idea. Reverie had always felt that something was terribly wrong with the ways of The Gilded Sea, but no one had ever really confirmed it like this. Now Lestan was speaking about the present, then about his own birthplace. Loch Teine, she remembered.
It sounded like a dream. That... that's wonderful, She breathed, and then, unthinking: Why did you leave? He was here, after all, wasn't he? Just like she was. They had both left something behind, and suddenly she desperately wished to find some common ground there. His life sounded so idyllic compared to her own, it felt impossible; unfair.

lestan's face fell quite suddenly. "i had to," he said weakly, and there was no hint of an actual explanation behind it.
he scrambled for one; my mother died, real fire came, the lake was cursed.
all true and yet all inconceivable.
he grinned, trying to smooth the wrinkle from their sweet moment. "i'm glad to be right here. right now, reverie," the mayfair man said gently.

She regretted the question the moment she saw it register in his expression. It was something terrible, it must be. I understand, Reverie touched his face lightly. It suddenly seemed important that he knew just how much she understood, despite his deflection. If he never wanted to speak of it, she would never ask again — but she wanted him to know that he didn't have to be afraid of telling her. That she wouldn't judge him or pity him, or worse, hover and obsess and expect his feelings to change any day. Do you remember - what I told you about my sister?

the man nodded, his silken gaze a caress. "yes." voice hushed, as if he might be opening a sepulcher. 
"you said that she died." his brow furrowed; his arms tightened. he did not want to see pain cross her face! and yet, he was pleased and honored that she brought him again and even now the seed of this assumed agony.
"what happened, reverie?"

I'm so sorry for all this dialogue

She died, yes, and it was all my fault; but that wasn't what she meant to tell him now. Reverie thought for a moment, considering how best to condense all of it into something that might actually get her point across. He held her with his eyes as much as his arms; that feeling again, that safety. It's a long story. But - after it happened, I was very sick. I felt... like it was still happening, all the time. I couldn't speak or sort herbs or dance, and I never remembered to take care of myself. All I could do was remember. At first everyone seemed to understand, except my parents - but then... they got tired of it. I wasn't useful anymore and I couldn't do what they wanted or feel the way they thought I should, and I wasn't getting any better. They wanted to forget about me, I think, Even summarized, she felt she was speaking too much, but these were the important parts. Then there was another fire, just like the one that -
She swallowed. I ran, and I didn't stop. And I thought it was for their sake at first, because I was such a burden. But then I realized - I was just tired of it all. Living in fear of my parents and guilt over all my siblings' expectations and disappointment. My brothers and sisters were always kind, but it was... empty and sad because they were always thinking about what I should be. I had to leave.
I just want you to know that I understand what it's like to want to... heal on your own terms. If you never want to talk about why you left, then you don't have to. But if you ever do, I promise to try to give you as much space as you need for your own feelings about it. You don't have to worry about - dealing with my reaction too.
She felt a little shy then; she had opened up and reached out in the same breath (metaphorically, at least...), and that required a lot of courage for someone who feared so many things. But she didn't look away from him.

a flowering, a waterfall of words! and all of it to soothe him! to tell him otherwise, that she would wait to listen, that she had lived through a thousand pressures and a death.
a tear flowed on his cheek, and he drew a shaking breath. it felt like reverie was quite ageless; had he himself even suffered half so much?
he looked at her with radiant love and helpless enchantment; with a blossoming trust and a shock that he could do so, bring trust.
but with her it was easy.
he had nothing to say; his eyes spoke all that lestan could not, tongue-bond and overcome.

Silence, and Reverie could only wonder; his eyes were soft, he was crying, but she was learning her lesson about assumptions. Rarely were they correct or productive, but she couldn't just wonder forever. Impulsively she kissed away that single tear and leaned close, breath against his ear, to murmur: Tell me what you're thinking, Do you feel this too? Tell me what you want. And finally the question was asked, in a winding and flawed sort of way. What were they becoming?
Childishly, she hoped for a split second that he would want the same thing she did; she hoped that he would want to dance.

"you!" lestan exulted and insisted, wending her closer and closer. "i want you to come to the creek! i want to go to kvarsheim! i want —" and then a hundred words crowded his tongue and his breath juddered again —
"this. you. us. i — that's what i'm thinking. that is what i want."
but he wanted to belong to swiftcurrent and she could not leave her family, he did not want to even be a hint of the cause for it.
and so lestan only gently kissed one cheek and then the other.

He wanted her, and that warm sweet feeling was almost enough to make her gloss over the rest of what he said. Almost. His words reminded her sharply of that day at Swiftcurrent Creek, when she'd thought too far ahead and ruined everything. This time she wanted to make it right.
Then - She took a breath. We don't have to think about the rest - about our packs or the future or any of it. It doesn't really matter anyway, does it? Living apart can't keep us from being together. And... things might be different, in the future. But even if it's not different, that wouldn't stop me from wanting you. So if it doesn't stop you from wanting me, then... I'm yours. And she didn't know exactly what that meant, because she wasn't asking him to marry her, but it felt right to say it. To voice the part of her that he held now, something she hoped he would accept. Because there was totally the option where he dropped it like a hot potato and ran.

lestan almost fumbled it, the finality of it resounding hard and cold in his gut. his brow knitted but his resolution did not shake. "i'm sure. we'll be slow," he went on, as much for himself as her. "do you — are you traveling?"
he still was confused, if he was being honest, but his thorough support of reverie made all that quite irrelevant in the end.
"i'm still — sinking roots. into the creek, i mean. one of the leaders there, akavir, we're related."
the small smile froze. why did it feel as if he was finding a grounded sensation just as reverie meant to fly?

For the first time, Reverie really considered that maybe she was asking too much, reaching too far. She'd meant to clear the air, make it easier for them to proceed without worrying so much about the end of the path, but it was sounding more and more like they wanted different things. We'll be slow, Lestan said, echoing a sentiment he'd expressed several times already. So far they had not. He meant to fix that, she figured, but what about all that had already happened between them? Did they just... take it back? Did he want to? She didn't know, but she knew that Lestan was frowning and suddenly she felt unsure.
I am, She answered his question quietly, her expression thoughtful and solemn now as she studied him. I'm going to be a scout for Kvarsheim, while I decide if I'm going to stay there. I can visit you at Swiftcurrent Creek, so you don't have to leave - I know it's important to you. Important in the way packs were to pack wolves. Important in the way Kvarsheim was to Bjarna. She was learning, she thought. Then she added, I met Akavir. He's nice. She wanted to ask if he was sure that he was sure, but for now she only let the conversation flow forward. She would have to trust that Lestan would give voice to any doubts he might have.

lettuce fade? <3 i have played him as not leaving the creek since tybault arrived so!! i would love them to have an updated one when it works for reverie's arc!! <3

the significant thing was that reverie did not invite him and lestan was not sure he wanted to go, if she had.
and it had nothing to do with the longing he would feel the second they stepped away from one another. it was more an understanding that this was for her, to knit the paper retelling of her life into something more, something with closure and a beginning.
"i'm yours," he finally said, everything and nothing all at once. the smile that rose was golden and genuine; if there were no other truths in the world, that one would be his.

200 for you! Fading, and Rev's timeline has been hanging out in the past for a bit now so I'll get us something present-dated <3

He didn't express any doubts. He didn't ask for more from her, either. Lestan had never asked her for anything, and that was perhaps why she gave so freely to him. He didn't ask for promises like home or forever, didn't even kiss her unless she made it quite clear that she wanted it. So undemanding, in fact, that she wondered sometimes if he truly felt anything for her. Reverie couldn't comprehend love without possession, it was foreign to her like everything else about this place and its people. But Lestan made it seem easy, all of it, like it was the most natural thing in the world and he was only waiting for her to catch up. Maybe he was; it seemed like something he might do, always trying to help. She loved him for that.
But hers was a love rooted in a desire to claim. Not wholly, not in perpetuity; just what few beautiful pieces she could grasp, whatever she was given. Hers; he was hers. Maybe not forever, but that didn't matter. She pulled him closer, and a faint, breathy, wanting growl slipped from her — and this time it had nothing to do with anything but Lestan. Reverie was immediately embarrassed, of course. Lestan, I want - You. Again. But then, hadn't she just... Well, we already did it once - more than once! It couldn't hurt, right? She met his eyes, and whatever he decided, she would trust.
Either way, she sent him off with kisses and promises to return.