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

The restlessness should have ebbed, but it never seems to leave his bones. In the quiet pre-dawn hush, when he has little else to occupy his mind, he has begun to wonder if it ever would. For all his command of the past, present, and future, he still struggles to determine such things. Perhaps if he devoted a lifetime to it, spending his time trying to untangle the threads crowding his mind, he might finally understand. But he has neither the patience nor the will to commit so deeply.

Instead he bows beneath the relentless gnawing for more. Giving in has always been far easier than resisting. With impatient strides, he crosses the boundary of his kingdom. He has no destination in mind, but wherever he ends up, he is certain he will find something. Anything to temper the wildness, if only for a moment.

Dawn has long since broken the horizon when he arrives. He had finally determined where he was going by the time he was more than halfway there. The ruins stretch before him, desolate and eerily silent. He had investigated when the first appeared, though he had not lingered long then.

There had been too much weight in his chest then for him to truly give it the attention it deserved.

Now though, he feels compelled to continue forward. He can feel the shudders of death and pain that coat this place, but it does not stir any hesitation. Rune, who had been following overhead, shrieks his displeasure before swooping to land on the jutting bone of Reave’s hip. His stride dips beneath the weight, but he easily compensates for it in the next step.

He can feel how much the place disconcerts his companion, but he refuses to allow the bird’s whispers to dissuade him. Instead he flicks his tail hard, the strands snapping across Rune’s feathers, silencing large raptor’s grumblings. Rune is welcome to leave if he doesn’t like it, though Reave knows he will not. His companion would never risk it, and a very small part of Reave is grateful, even if he would never admit it. Besides, Rune already knew.

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

His mind, like hers, is never a quiet place. Unfortunately he cannot shut out his own thoughts. He has learned to settle for filtering them instead, ignoring the whisper of memories and tangled lines of tenuous futures until it suits him to pay attention. He has wondered if those endless spirals are the reason for his restlessness, or if it is merely a fault in his being. It’s hard to tell when he has so many.

Also like her, he finds a strange sort of peace in this place. The shudder of dread does not bother him nearly as much as it does his companion, but the possibilities that linger in this place are endless. There is a ghostly quality to the wreckage here, whispers of past greatness that clamor inside his skull. But it’s not loud. No, there is something far more insidious about these murmurs, and they make him curious rather than repel him.

He turns at the sound of her steps, eyes picking out the shifting of her form in the shadow of the ruins. Her dapples glow in the dusky hue of her skin that blends so well with the darkness. Like the night sky she had been made to resemble. He eyes her with undisguised curiosity as she slips towards him, watching her lips curve upwards as she greets him with a question.

Reave returns her smile with a faintly wicked grin of his own. “Always,” he replies, his voice a soft rumble in the eerie quiet of this place. Rune ruffles himself atop his perch on Reave’s hip, yellow gaze piercing the dappled mare with a fierce stare before abruptly ducking his head to preen the feathers of his wing. Reave says nothing more, instead settling alongside the stranger in companionable silence as he studies her openly.

He has never been shy in his attention, nor would he be now, regardless if it would be considered rude or not. Finally, feet shifting beneath him, Reave breaks his silence to ask her, “You didn’t come here for company, did you?”

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

Perhaps it is the curse of lightness to birth darkness. It makes as much sense as anything else in this strange existence. Would explain why Reave had grown into something so corrupted when his parents are two of the kindest people to have existed in this world. Or maybe, given his blood, it is they who were the anomalies and not he.

Or, quite possibly the most sensical explanation of all, none of that truly matters and Reave had carved his own path through fate. That’s the one he always chooses to believe. He despises the thought that he must have been born for a specific purpose and refuses to give any credence to it.

Does that make him foolish or enlightened? Or simply another cog in the machine of life?

One could go mad attempting to figure these things out, but Reave is no longer certain he hasn’t already started down that path.

She does not flinch beneath his appraisal, nor does she shy away from returning it in kind. There is something undeniably pleasurable about that, a challenge he cannot resist. He doesn’t even try to. Her response causes one equine brow to wing up in surprise followed swiftly by amusement. Her declaration makes him decidedly curious about what she would consider entertainment if she is seeking it in a place like this.

Her next comment, however, draws his gaze to the ruins surrounding him. With an offhand grin, he replies almost without thought. “Aren’t we all?”

Returning his piercing blue gaze to the young woman beside him when she continues, he eyes her with an inscrutable expression. The silence stretches for a long moment before he finally says, “I might.” And it’s true enough. If he dug deep enough, he might be able to learn why this place echoes with despair. But he had already come to the conclusion it would not be an easily won answer, and he’s not quite sure he is ready to make the sacrifice it would require. Instead he steps closer, gaze searching as he stares at her, the corners of his lips lifting slightly. “But is that really what you want to know?”

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

If she had given in to the desire to read his thoughts, she would have found his expression masked a chaotic tangle few would have the patience to unravel. Even he, who must live with them every day, rarely finds the patience for it. His mind houses so many memories and futures that are not his own that even he struggles to wade through it. If she sought silence, she would never find it within him.

Though her memories dance on his periphery, he extends her the same courtesy she had extended him. It’s not from any notion of politeness, but rather selfishness. In a way, he too had come here for escape, and he does not yet wish to relinquish that dream.

The grin stretches wider across his lips at her reply, eyes glinting with amusement as he follows her wandering gaze before returning his attention to her. “Your candor is refreshing,” he replies with a faint chuckle before adding wryly, “Though if you’re seeking quiet, you have found the wrong companion.” A pause, then, “I’m Reave.”

The admission comes freely, as many things do to Reave. But then, he has never tried to hide his myriad foibles, and he has always preferred to keep the company of those who enjoyed them. If she did not, he had provided her the perfect opportunity to take her leave.

If Reave is any judge of character however, he suspects she will not. He does not need to peek into the future to surmise that either. It’s only after a long moment, his gaze dragging over her with shameless speculation, that he finally breaks the silence. “If you have come here for the quiet, then the echoes on the wind must not bother you.”

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

His lips lift into a smirk at her observation. She seems momentarily nonplussed by her realization, but rather than say anything about it, Reave merely dips his head in acknowledgement. Having taken on leadership of Nerine at such a tender age, he hardly even notices the weight of it anymore. It has simply become another part of him. Indeed, it has grown so familiar that he rarely even bothers mentioning it unless asked.

Her next question draws a laugh from him, genuine amusement glinting in his eyes. “Only if you find yourself so compelled,” he responds wryly, the corners of his mouth twitching. “I promise I won’t hold it against you.”

Reave shifts restlessly then, Rune swaying with his movement. The large raptor lets loose an indignant grumble, wings lifting as he steadies his balance. He grins at Aubergine’s assumption. His gaze shifts over her in quiet consideration, head tilting slightly. “If you were reading my mind, you might not take that bet.” He shakes his head then, grin slipping as he turns to gaze at the scattered ruins. “It’s never quiet, even here.”

That admission is the closest Reave has ever come to sharing the chaos that lives inside him. The constant barrage of past, present, and future is a difficult thing to contain. It’s a wonder he hasn’t gone mad yet. Or perhaps he has and he simply failed to realize it.

His eyes slip back to her when she denies noticing the echoes. His lips lift slightly before the contemplative expression returns to his shrouded features. “Nothing good,” he replies easily, his light tone a contradiction of the words he speaks. “If I believed in ghosts, I would say this place is haunted.”