Hushed Willows [m] So I'll stay right here 'cause I'm better all alone

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Discussion of suicide

She could only avoid Reverie for so long. Leaving Hearthwood wasn't really an option, not now, and so Mae eventually made the decision to seek the woman out. She still wasn't ready to talk to Boone, who she assumed would be displeased with the way she'd spoken to his wife — but Reverie's displeasure, she could handle that. At worst she might cry. Mae could deal with crying.

Mae brought the dappled stone with her, figuring she'd make an apology gift of it. And she did owe Reverie an apology, at least for being so explosive. But Mae felt she deserved an apology, too. All she'd wanted was to learn, and Reverie had assumed the worst of her. She tracked the golden woman's scent to her den, and lingered warily for a moment before she called out. It didn't seem like Boone was around right now, at least.

Reverie had left Mae alone in the wake of their — conflict. She wasn't sure at all what she would say when they next spoke, or if they would be able to get past it. And she still did not want to teach Mae about poisons, perhaps selfishly; even the thought made her sick.

The call was unexpected, but not unwelcome, though today was not one of her better days. She'd spent much of it holed up in her den, crying off and on; haunted by whispers in the rustling of trees and flashes of golden feathers. Reverie had spoken of it only briefly with @Boone before secluding herself entirely. She didn't want to be seen like this. But she thought that she might be able to pull it together long enough for a conversation, and so she emerged from her den with her fur slightly tousled and her eyes muzzy with sleep.

Hi, Reverie greeted softly, tail swaying. Then she fell silent, allowing Mae the first move, though her eyes flicked curiously over the stone.

Just by looking at her Mae sensed that this wasn't the best time, but Reverie didn't say anything to that effect, so she decided to forge ahead. Hey. I uh, I wanted to - say sorry, She pushed the stone toward Reverie. And give you this.

I shouldn'ta got so pissed off. But - I dunno, you kinda assumed the worst of me. I'm not planning to hurt anyone, Not yet, anyway. I just wanna be prepared, ya know? Mae watched her a little imploringly, hoping that she would change her mind now that she'd heard Mae's side of it.

Reverie offered a soft smile as Mae went on, relieved that the girl had come to apologize rather than argue further. Her relief was short-lived, however; it was obvious Mae still hoped for a different answer. It's okay. I forgive you. I - I know it can be - hard to feel like you're not... safe, or prepared to defend yourself, A slight frown knit her features as she went on.

But poison is - it's not a way to win a fight. When you poison someone, it's... it takes time. It has to be planned. And I - I would worry that you might be tempted to use it for other reasons, too, when things get difficult, She didn't want to come right out and say it, but Reverie knew that Mae was troubled. A troubled youth with access to poison — well, she knew from experience how very badly that could go. She didn't think she could live with herself if Mae ever went through what she had experienced in that cave.

This is a very pretty stone. Thank you, She added, reaching out with one paw to slide it closer for inspection.

She let out a breath, ears going flat as Reverie spoke. So she wouldn't change her mind. Mae would have to find someone else to teach her, but she didn't even know where to begin looking. And what was she trying to imply, anyway?

What do you mean use it for other reasons? Mae couldn't quite keep the bite from her tone. She couldn't see any other reason to use poison, except maybe outright murder or something. Was that really what Reverie thought of her?

Reverie went still. Well, She began, then paused, starting to stammer. Well, I - I just - I don't want you to - to hurt yourself. I know you've - had problems, and I know you're sad sometimes, and I - I know how that feels. Where it can lead.

She took in a shaky breath, feeling a little ashamed at having assumed so much, but... I'm just worried about you, Reverie finished softly, anxiously turning the stone over with one paw.

What? Mae blinked, too caught off guard to be angry at first. But anger was quick to follow her shock, and her hackles lifted slightly in response. The fuck? I wouldn't - why would you think that? Her voice rose, too, and distantly Mae knew that the strength of her reaction was in part because she had thought of such things.

She took a breath and tried to soften herself, aware that she was being unreasonable. I'm not gonna hurt myself, okay? I don't wanna die or anything. Might be nice to have the option, but I'm not gonna do it, Mae's eyes narrowed slightly as she watched Reverie, seeing her in a new light now. The fact that this was the first thing she thought of — it was telling. She remembered then what Arric had said about Reverie. Something was off with her, that was for sure.

She shook her head immediately, frightened by the casual way Mae spoke of it being an option. It's not an option, Mae. It can't ever be one. That's - that's why I won't teach you, Reverie was adamant now, certain that she was doing the right thing by denying this request.

Once you start thinking about it that way, it's - it's like a sickness. It never leaves you. And when things get hard, it's always there in the back of your mind. You'll always think - why suffer when I can just leave it behind? But that - it doesn't stop the suffering. It just creates more for everyone else, Reverie realized she was trembling, and the wind sounded so much like whispering. Small gods. She sank down onto her haunches, abruptly feeling faint, and hoped fervently that Mae would understand.

Mae was suddenly overwhelmed. Why did Reverie care so much, anyway? Why did it matter whether she lived or died? She bristled, stepping back. It just creates more for everyone else.

She remembered another thing Arric had told her, then. What, is that what Lestan did? Went and offed himself to get away from you? Even as she said it, she knew it was horrible. Unforgivable. But Mae couldn't seem to stop herself. Well that's not my fuckin' problem. So don't try to make it my problem. You don't know me.

Again she fled Reverie's presence in anger, in grief. This time she was certain it would not be mended.

Lestan.

Lestan. Reverie scarcely registered anything beyond his name, that name she'd once loved so much, that name she'd once taken comfort in, that name which had once been home to her. And her eyes filled with tears but she hardly felt them. How did Mae know that name? Why did everyone speak about him as if — as if they knew, when they didn't. None of them did.

Because of her. He was gone because of her. Reverie watched Mae go in helpless, shattering silence, and her voice would not return to her. She cried in silence.

After a time she left her den, and the stone there at the entrance, seeking safety. Solitude. That night, Reverie did not return.