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

The moon is high and bright overhead, hanging full and heavy in its distant bed of velvet. The light it casts catches on the stark, stony edges of the cliff faces angling towards the sea, bathing the occupants in a soft glow. Reave stands on the edges of those cliffs, staring idly at the waves crashing far below. The glowing bone that bites through red and white skin cannot compete with the luminescence of the moon, but they wash his streaked skin with their faint light.

The harpy eagle that is his most constant companion had settled onto a nearby stone, his massive weight tucked in quiet repose. The stallion ignores him as he often does, though he is as aware of his presence as he is so many others.

With a soft sigh, the bone-marked stallion shifts, restless even in the hours meant for slumber. Turning, the weight of his blue gaze is cast to the garden nestled against the unkind cliffs behind him. It is a monstrous garden, filled with plants hungering for meat rather than sunshine. Reave has long ensured they stay fed, even in this inhospitable climate.

They had once served as the catalyst that rebirthed his mother, and since then he has held a fondness for the strange foliage. Now, they are under his Guardianship as much as any of the other residents here (even if it disgruntled Rune to be asked to hunt for the rodents that keep them fed). Though he cannot be entirely certain, he often gets the sense they understand his care for them. Especially when they do not snap at him as they once had.

With a faint smile edging onto the lines of his mouth, he sweeps his gaze across the wild patch. The garden of Nerine, if one could truly call it a garden. If it is, he supposes that would make him a gardener. He had never imagined himself one, yet here he is, staring at plants he has tended to for nearly two years now.

Lifting his head to the moon above him, he glances up, amusement creeping across his features as the smile on his lips deepens.

reave