i am the mace, the map, the fall and the high
There is an undeniable urge pressed deeply in his bones. One he has never bothered denying. It drives him day after day, pushing him to do more. He is not a man meant for peace, not a stallion made for quiet, not a creature of steady heart. It fuels the recklessness that has spurred so much change. Many would not consider it good, but to Reave, it simply is. And he lives for it, breathes it into his lungs alongside the air. It pulses through his veins, the very heartbeat of his soul.
It’s never enough. Like an addict, he always needs more.
The hush is undeniable, quiet in a way he cannot like. But he continues, because there is little else to do. His restless legs carry him constantly away, just as easily as they carry him home. Today is one of the many days he wanders, lost to something he can’t quite name (not that he even bothers to try).
The scents of the field are much like any other place, but there is an optimism that lingers here. Reave enjoys it. He is an optimistic creature by nature, though perhaps not in the same way others are. His is a cruel optimism; one borne of too much knowledge and not enough compassion. Yet it is still a belief in the better (though, better for whom, it’s difficult to say).
Rune, as ever, remains Reave’s sanity. A whisper inside his head that reminds him of the many promises he has made. Still, he cannot compete when the bone-armored stallion is drawn by a curious disturbance. Something other that is irresistible to someone whose mind is as plagued by curiosities as Reave’s is. He watches with a vague sense of displacement as the woman crumples to the ground, threads of past, present, and future pulling him in too many directions at once.
In the end however, reality wins out. Barely.
It isn’t until she senses him that he bothers speaking though. He hadn’t been certain she retained enough awareness to even know he was there, watching. It seems, however, that she does.
With a faint smirk tugging at one corner of his lips, he steps forward. His bright blue gaze is unmistakable despite the bone that shrouds it, impish and sharp in its clarity. “Hello,” he replies noncommittally before taking a step closer. “I was trying to decide whether you were dead or alive.” Head tilting slightly, he allows his smile to bloom, though there is nothing gentle in that expression. “I’m still undecided.”
@Electra