Stavanger Bay Wilted

there was something broken here that lestan did not understand. something he was not certain he would. he listened, though the idea of reverie ending her own life over him nauseated the man with fear.
in the end, they had both chosen blossom, hadn't they? the hurt gilding his eyes had lessened, replaced with a wan sense of guilted confusion.
then why would reverie ever say that? to contemplate losing her in death delivered a blow almost harsh enough to press all air from his lungs;
"i believe you," not because lestan was sure he did, but because he wanted so very much for this to be their truth.
very gingerly now the mayfair reached out to reverie, afraid she would reject him and yet understanding why she might choose this.
for the first time, he felt that he'd broken their rough edges into pieces of glass that no longer fit, and he was desperate to smooth them.