Stavanger Bay They say that no one dies from love

Realizes very belatedly that I didn't tag anyone, Again. @Lestan @Vairë would love either or both of you <3
I'm going to be very bad and reduce the timeline on this, I had rolled for two days and realized a much shorter timeline makes more sense for Rev's narrative; I figured it's fine because no one has moved on or referenced it but just message me if not!

Tall golden spires pierced the sky, their presence so vast it was sight and sound and touch all at once, like a vibration through the air around them. It was silent here, so very still. Nothing moved in the empty sands below, until the rain began to fall.
…
For three hours Reverie slept. Her bleeding slowed but did not stop, and she remained clinging to the thin ledge that separated life and death. The fever which had dwindled to a simmer rose again to a wildfire in her veins within the first hour. She woke once, briefly, with gasping words on her lips that she only half-heard herself. The witch, the witch, she said - And she drew in a shaking breath. I have to - to - touch divinity, she said - If anyone was there to hear it, she did not know. Reverie fell back into thin fitful sleep as quickly as she'd stirred.
By the third hour her fever had broken. The bleeding had slowed to a stop sometime before. Reverie blinked awake into a shadowy and wavering reality, registering nothing in those first moments. She only breathed, and knew in some instinctive way that she would live.

reverie — she had hardly returned.
and lestan went unbathed, and as the freshets of briny air washed over him, it felt as the breezes withdrew, tainted with the blood of riordan, which had dried to thick maroon over lestan.
as he had, now reverie hung in fever, now she called out.
witch
"i'm here, rev," the mayfair pleaded, twining her into his arms.

Reverie knew in the next moment that Lestan would need her, that he must have done what she'd asked of him. Too much a flower to do anything but wither in the darkness; for her, for her! She shifted then, and cleaned the blood from herself with brisk motions. The gilded girl was left greatly weakened by her ordeal. Yet she lived, and with each passing moment felt a new swell of strength in her limbs and her chest. She took in a deep breath, ears twitching, and cast her eyes around the dimmed cave only once before she reached for Lestan. The scents of salt and magic shimmered in the air, but there was blood, too. So much blood.
I'm here, he said, and she could only wonder how long it would be before that changed. She had seen the day he would leave her. It would come, she knew, and in the same way she knew what would become of her.
Reverie's eyes flicked briefly to the entrance of the cave, and beyond, where the ocean beckoned her even now. But today was not that day. Today, she would live. She started to groom Lestan in silence, careful to avoid his wounds, even more careful still to avoid any thought of how he had come by them. Riordan was surely dead, by Lestan's actions no less, and perhaps she should have cared more…
But she just didn't.

lestan felt a vessel, cracked, an amphora of poured-out oil. he scarcely felt reverie's preening; he stared off toward nothing at all, teeth body flesh tissue sinew remembering how he had killed —
had killed —
as sickened as his stomach, lestan's mind lurched from that truth.
and there were no words.
and so the silence went on.

Only when the blood had been cleaned from Lestan as fully as she could manage did Reverie try to speak. But there was a price to her healing, one she had never imagined. Reverie's voice faltered as soon as it had begun, and she coughed slightly in the wake of her attempt to speak.
The panic began to settle in rather quickly. She tried again, and again, and grew more alarmed with each attempt. Finally, she gave up, and tucked herself closely against Lestan. Would he still love her, even like this? She could not give him comfort, could not tell him that she loved him, and maybe — maybe it would be this way forever. She fought the threat of tears that accompanied this thought, and told herself that Lestan needed her now. She could no longer afford to be lost in her own head, her own crises.
She kissed his cheek gently, and hoped that he had not noticed her failed attempts at speech.

speech did not come to either of them. lestan leaned against her, tongue at last offering the same groom. 
in this-slow moving silence, he found some semblance of steadiness if not peace.
somehow the very idea of words crushed him, and so he was only still, finding and holding reverie and closing his eyes against the recollection of riordan's torn flesh.

Her chest ached even as he slowly returned her affection; she didn't know what to do for Lestan, and the guilt of knowing that he had done this to himself for her sake weighed heavily on her attempts at comfort. Later she would tend his wounds, and bring him food; fish, she decided, from a cache. It seemed a wiser choice than land-dwelling prey at the moment.
And she would pay close attention to him over the coming days, but nothing really seemed to help. Slowly she realized that she could not bring the light back to him. Reverie could do nothing but wrap herself around him, try to anchor him, and hope that he felt her presence through the darkness even if he could see nothing past it.