Stavanger Bay It was all forlorn, if only for a season

"b-but reverie," lestan's weak protest, "it is your life, for now." an intake; "getting better is." he slid his arm around her slim golden shoulders; there was a sweet give inside him, something sharp unloosening thorned branches; "but it won't be forever, it isn't all of who you are." he kissed her cheek softly.
"we c-can keep talking about it, rev," the mayfair said, feeling some spark of hope or — well, something lighter.
"even if it takes a long time." lestan meant to be with her each step of this journey, as much as reverie would allow him to be.
mending took time.