Stone Circle Love from the other side of the apocalypse

She understood.
For a moment that was all Reverie could comprehend — that Bjarna knew what she'd said, what she'd asked. But secondarily, and perhaps more importantly, and certainly more to the point —
She understood. That feeling, that want; the urge to take one last look at all of it and launch headlong into the unknown, because it was simply easier than staying. It was easier not knowing, never being able to guess what might go wrong or what might go right. Easier when there was nothing to return to, because that meant she didn't need to think about yesterday's promises or tomorrow's demands. But it was different, even then. Reverie wasn't like Bjarna, who stood and shouldered her every responsibility unflinchingly, Bjarna who was so like the sun itself: steadfast, warm, ever lighting the way for those who would otherwise be lost in the dark.
Reverie thus far had let every responsibility handed to her slip right through her fingers. No amount of guilt would change it. It was who she was, the essential star lighting the heart of her, and always had been. The only difference now was that she knew it, and no longer wanted to deny it.
But how to balance that with the most driving of forces, the basic need to be loved — that escaped her. She sighed, shook her head. I want to leave, Reverie admitted, voice soft and melancholy. More than sometimes. And - what difference would it make, really? I'm never home anyway. She might have said more, but for now she only wanted to see how much Bjarna understood. And if she did understand, Reverie would give her the space she needed for whatever anger or hurt feelings might follow. She owed her that much, at least.