Hushed Willows [m] Never gonna allocate all of this dark hate

Perhaps another time, Reverie would have noticed Wayfarer's discomfort; she would have apologized, offered what comfort she could. But here and now her thoughts were a barely-coherent mess. She felt the shift and only lingered on it for a moment. Her gaze drifted before fixing on Wayfarer again, and what she did notice was where the woman's eyes were. Pretty eyes, looking down at their point of contact.

She felt her heart in her throat.

I, um... Reverie reached for something to say, something — safe. Yes, she recognized this now; this, whatever lingered between them except that it couldn't. She was married. Wayfarer knew that, didn't she? And in the spring she would know again, in the same way everyone would; in the spring — I don't think I'm ready. For spring. I won't be going anywhere for... a long while, at least.

She looked away as she said it. I almost died with Blossom, This was one way to kill a moment, but Reverie was hardly thinking about that anymore. Her thoughts were swept away in spring now; her fear; Boone's desperate want for children. She was married. She wondered sometimes if that had been a mistake.