Stavanger Bay I don't mind if I smoke away your taste

But there wasn't any fear in Reverie, not anymore. If she was honest in a way she could only ever be with herself, she couldn't seem to find much investment in her own life. Her love for Blossom was the only thing she felt she truly had anymore, and Reverie couldn't help but see the slow countdown sitting just above her daughter's head whenever she looked at her. That was always her plan: to raise her and love her and then let her go off to live her own life, as Reverie wished her parents had done for her.
They were just broken people who had never known how to let go. She saw that now, but unlike them, she did not intend to sit by and make excuses while the sharp edges of her own shatterings caught her daughter and turned her into something bloody and wounded that could only heal to brittleness; destined to shatter too one day. For this reason, Reverie listened to what Bridget had to say. She nodded slowly.
I'll - tell her soon. When I feel a little better. I don't want to scare her, She decided softly, not thinking in this moment of Lestan or his opinion. Thank you, Bridget. Her eyes were warm on the healer. And neither did she think of Lestan when she felt Bridget's soft touch, and her pulse stuttered a little before settling into a slower rhythm. Reverie closed her eyes.
She did not want to do this anymore.
But she would, and that thought felt so much like exhaustion.
The pain never came, but eventually the bleeding did stop, and when the water had washed away the last of the blood she tried, shakily, to stand — and failed. I think I need help, Reverie sighed. Maybe @Lestan - She didn't wait for Bridget's opinion; she called for him, though not urgently. Not because she wanted him here, but because she knew that she should.