Moonspear i just meant that you would be emotionally ruined.

Liffey knew that hers and Rannoch's news was not likely to be taken well by anyone they shared it with. She very much doubted that anyone would manage to be nothing but happy for them and respond to their news with acceptance and genuine excitement for the plans they had made. The most she hoped for was disappointed acceptance. The worst she expected was violence.

If there was any that might manage the former though, it was @Gannet. She knew that her friend was likely to be hurt over the fact that she was leaving so soon after he had joined them, but she had faith that he'd understand, on some level. And that would have to be good enough for her.

That being said, she wouldn't blame him for deciding to hate her, though violence would still take her by surprise.

Liffey sought him in the usual places. She knew that he was more mobile these days, but didn't believe he could wander too far yet. She caught his trail and followed it, coming upon him not long after she started. She smiled as she approached, though there was emotion in her voice already by the time she came near enough to say, "Hey, can we talk?"

Gannet had spent some time thinking and by now had the good grace to feel badly about his abrupt exit with Hydra and Charon. There was still much he didn't understand about the situation, but as far as he was concerned, he knew what he needed to; he was Liffey and Hydra's friend, and when they wanted to talk, he was there. That was all he could do.

Apparently this was known, because while he was out and about training once more (a little more tamely; his foray up the mountain still had him sore) Liffey approached. When he saw her coming he slipped into an easy smile, but it faltered when he saw her expression and the emotion in her tone. Whatever it was, he immediately could tell it was serious, and he swiftly shifted tone to match it.

"Yeah." He said, his tone neutral, but his tail giving a light welcoming wave. A subdued greeting while he waited to see what was on her mind.

Gannet smiled when her saw her, but it fell away quickly. She breathed in deeply and sighed as the guilt crept in. She was about to hurt him.

"Rannoch and I are leaving Moonspear," she said, seeing no point in beating around the bush about it. It would hurt whether she said it now or in five minutes once their small talk about the weather was finished - might as well do it now and save him the agony of waiting to see what he clearly could see coming.

"I'm not happy here, Gannet," she explained, tears pricking the corners of her eyes, "I've never felt at home here, and I've tried. But I can't keep living here,  in a place where I feel so out of place and alone and... frankly, scared. I don't like what they did to you. I don't like what they did to Titmouse, and I can't live my life in a place where I worry about my own safety and that of my family. I'm glad for you, that you're happy being here, and that you have friends here and you feel safe. But I don't feel safe. I can't feel safe until I trust them, and I cannot find a way to do that."

Tears were spilling from her fire eyes now, but she blinked through them to look at her friend's face. "Please... please don't hate me," she begged him softly.

Of all the words that could have come out of Liffey's mouth, and all the guesses he could have made - what she actually said was the last he could have expected. In fact, it took a minute for them to sink in.

And the weight of them, when they did, hit him like a freight train.

He listened as well as he could to the rest of what she said, but panic rose up in his chest with every single word. She was leaving. She and Rannoch. She hadn't been happy here. This wasn't home.

It took a minute for him to be able to respond. He swallowed the panic as best he could for now, though try as he might, he knew he couldn't hide all of it. His ears slicked back, and he stared at her.

"You are my friend here." He said it softly, and the hurt and confusion were clear. He legitimately didn't understand; where had this come from? Why now? "This isn't your family?" In all of their talks, had she ever given him the impression it was otherwise? He couldn't remember, not with the roaring in his ears. But he thought becoming pack it was understood; she'd chosen to be here. Why had she gone where she was so unhappy, and left the Caldera for this then?

His expression hurt, but more than that was the lack of action he took to give her comfort for her tears. Couldn't he see how terribly painful this was for her? Why would he question her regard of this pack as her family when she was so clearly distraught? She didn't know his thoughts, nor could she read his expression through her tears to know the words he wasn't currently saying. For once, their silent communication tactics fell short, though Liffey carried on.

"No, it isn't," Liffey said mournfully, "Maybe some could have been, but not with Hydra, Alya and Lyra around. They have disliked me from the moment I arrived looking for Rannoch. They hurt Titmouse. They hurt you. Maybe you can find a way to be okay with it, but I can't."

It wasn't, and it never had been. So she had been living here all this time, unhappy. Gannet felt like he'd been punched in the gut.

He'd promised to stay here because he thought maybe this could be a family for him. Because his friends were here. Because she was here. And now, a week later, Liffey was telling him this hadn't been her intention all along. She'd been lying the whole time.

Had that been true with the Caldera too? With him? Was she leaving because he was here as well?

It wasn't a rational thought; he knew her. But the timing was so bad, and the news so flooring, that Gannet's mind had lost some of its ability to reason. He let out a slight whine; he could see that she was upset, but held back in comforting. His own pain was too much right now.

Once again, he was a step behind, and as a result he was being left in the dust. He couldn't even fight it. A part of him wanted to beg her not to, but if she was truly unhappy, even now he couldn't. Feeling a piece of him break, he turned and took off, full tilt, ignoring the recklessness of the motion; his first sprint since the injury. He couldn't be there any more.

He didn't want her to see it.

Liffey had expected anger, hurt, and betrayal. She knew that the decision she had made for herself was not going to be a popular one. It was not going to be easily understood, but she believed in her reasoning (from time to time) and she hoped that others would understand as well. But... they wouldn't if they never gave her the chance to explain.

Her eyes widened as Gannet turned and left. The move was so abrupt and shocking that she simply sat there, staring at his pale form as it disappeared through the trees. She called his name belatedly and finally made as though to go after him. She went only a few steps though before she stopped, thinking against it. Liffey didn't know what to think of the action. She was too stunned, too confused, and too miserably guilty to inflict her company on someone who had clearly denied her desperate request to not be hated.

Liffey turned and swept away through the trees, deciding to take some time to recuperate from this interaction before having her next.