i am the mace, the map, the fall and the high

On the surface there is no pattern to the journey his feet take. From the moment he had taken shape on the beach, he had hardly paused to stand still. He has been to the northernmost territory many times in his young life. Today should be no different, but he is not here because of his mother. Not this time, as he had been so many times before.

If asked, he could give no true reason. There is an openness, a freedom here that is nearly impossible to find anywhere else. It is so different from the density of the Taigan forest, so bright and open in a way that is both unsettling and thrilling. With the shadows growing long as snow begins to flurry unhindered across the cliffs, he feels almost as if he could be the only one in existence.

Just he and the harpy eagle soaring distantly in the sky above.

He’s not quite sure how far he has gone before he pauses at the cliff’s edge to stare out across the choppy waves. The wind whips at his red locks, stinging his still lanky, slender frame. The angry, reddened skin where bone has begun to force its way through does not even dare bleed here. Either that, or it has frozen before it can even try.

Reave breathes deeply of the cold and piercing wind, allowing it to sting his lungs and send a shiver through his body. He’s not cold - not really - but there is something bracingly bone-chilling in that stiff breeze.

He understands now why his mother returns here time and again, despite what family they have remaining now dwelling in the warmth and safety of the more southern forest. And he wonders then, why it had been allowed to sit fallow for so long. The lightning woman who had stolen his mother’s stone corpse is nowhere to be found now. And perhaps that’s for the best.

She had been a poor guardian for this land, and he fully intends to tell her so the next time he sees her. If he ever sees her again.

reave

i am the mace, the map, the fall and the high

Reave has never pondered destiny. It has never been a thing that held any importance to him, and thus never able to capture his interest. He had most certainly never pondered his own. Even in the off moments when one considered the future, he’d never truly contemplated where his might lead. And by that same token, neither had he dwelled on his auspicious lineage.

He knows nothing of the weight of the history he bears in his blood, nothing of the ancestry that had been such an integral part in crafting this land.

His grandmother would certainly be disappointed.

Whether he had been meant to end up here or not, he could not say. But to a boy who is so very nearly a man, there is a sense of purpose here that is almost undeniable. A purpose he hadn’t known he’d been lacking. The missing pieces of it may have manifested in his restless wandering, but either way it had led him here.

In the days to come, he would never quite be sure whether it was destiny or happenstance.

As the two raptors begin to circle one another on distant thermals, Reave’s eyes, a bright and burning blue, land on Leilan. There is an unwitting familiarity in that gaze as it rests the leader of the North. His jaw clenches briefly when he mentions the electric keeper of Nerine, fueled by memories of a gut wrenching theft. It had led to the re-birth of his mother, so he could not truly hate her for it, but it seems some grudges do not flee the heart so easily.

He stills when Leilan suggests that perhaps he could do better, struck by the implication. He stares at his distant uncle for a long moment before shifting to peer at the austere expanse of cliff and waves, the hardy brown grasses and stony outcrops. When his attention finally makes its way back to Leilan, a small, wry grin briefly curls across his lips. “Yes,” he replies abruptly, as though that might hide the faint traces of self-deprecation at his own foolish certainty. “This place has never been well suited for fire anyway.”

reave

i am the mace, the map, the fall and the high

As luck would have it, Reave has never been given to doubt. Perhaps it’s his youth, or perhaps it is simply his nature, but whatever the case may be, he has no doubt that he would serve this place better than it’s last overseer. He has never truly desired responsibility - not like this - but to his young heart, the north hardly seems one. A youthful folly, if ever there was one.

Still, for Reave, it is just what his reckless heart and selfish desire had needed. A place he could call his own. Something in which to channel his restless aggression. A purpose.

He is not here because destiny had bade him come, or because of an ancient calling lingering in his blood. To his young mind, this is a choice. A decision he could make wholly and completely on his own. One where he did not have others telling him what he must do. In this moment, he could as easily choose to throw off the yolk as he could to bind it around his neck.

His posture straightens almost imperceptibly, head tilting with a wry sort of knowledge as he eyes Leilan, a fey smile slowly edging onto his lips. “I don’t think we’ll have any trouble getting the word out,” he replies, a sanguine and hubristic energy creeping into his tone. His gaze turns towards the cliff, going distant for a moment as the juvenile eagle drops from the sky, diving out of sight beneath the cliff-edges for several long moments. When it rises once more into the sky, Reave’s gaze returns to Leilan, a grin lighting his blood and bone features.

“I think I’m just a Guardian.”

reave