Swiftcurrent Creek The district sleeps alone tonight

I had been meaning to slow down with Rev so... this is a perfect excuse

Reverie withdrew from the Creek in the days that followed Lestan's departure. She confined herself to the space where she had last seen him, the place where his scent lingered most thickly. She slept, mostly. When she was awake she thought of Lestan, and little else.
Slowly, she began to realize all the ways she had wronged him. All the ways she had been too clingy, too emotional, too distrusting, too — broken, broken in a way that made her sharp edges cut into him.
It didn't matter now, not really. He was already gone. But maybe... maybe she could use this knowledge; a lesson, as Gunnar had once told her. Reverie was too tired to make sense of it now, to turn it into anything useful. And she did not even know if a life without Lestan was worth living, truthfully. She had been certain that she could handle losing him, so very certain until it happened, and now —
Now she did not know if she could stand to exist without him, and it scared her.