Stavanger Bay Tell me I'm weighing on your mind

Reverie had missed this, if she was honest with herself; talking, really talking to someone who would listen without inserting their own emotions, who would say soothing things instead of reacting. She'd forgotten what that was like, and after becoming so accustomed to it during her time with Kvarsheim and Swiftcurrent Creek, it had driven her a little mad.
All of it had, really. She was starting to see that now. All that talk of gods, and magic, and —
She told herself to focus. She didn't quite agree with what Bridget had said; Lestan, she thought, had an affinity for lost causes. He had chosen this, and continued to choose it, but that didn't mean he wouldn't find a breaking point. It didn't mean Reverie wouldn't take him to it herself.
But... the question was fair. What would convince her?
Reverie took a breath. I think - I think it'll take time. It just - doesn't feel like we have that. It never feels like we have time, She blinked back the returned threat of tears. To be honest, I don't love him the way I did. It - it's still there, it's just not the same. And that feels like - like another limit on the time we have to fix this. Even as she opened up to Bridget further, she couldn't quite bring herself to admit the true depth of her shame. None of this would matter so much if she didn't need, desperately, to fill the hole left in her life by Rose — and she knew that was wrong, but the very thought of being without that kind of anchor in her life again left her breathless.
Then she remembered: if it can't be Blossom, it should be you.
But how could it be her? She hated herself. She hated everything that she was, everything she'd ever been.
I just want to sleep, Reverie said abruptly, and the tears started to fall again, but quietly this time. And then I would wake up, and it would all be a dream, and Lestan and I would be by the lake in the valley and -
I'm sorry, She apologized again even as she crumbled.