"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
04-29-2021, 11:09 AM (This post was last modified: 04-29-2021, 03:55 PM by Reave.)
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
@[Leilan]
also open to anyone who might feel like replying
04-30-2021, 07:37 AM (This post was last modified: 04-30-2021, 07:38 AM by Leilan.)
Leilan
Three.
There’s three lands in the North and it takes three to rule. Leilan, still at the helm overseeing them, has taken little interest in Nerine. It holds too many memories of people who are gone, and things that he will never get back. His niece ruling it was perfectly fine. Neverwhere had been a refreshing break, whom he’d always appreciated. Popinjay had been promising, but now she didn’t live up to it.
And Reave... actually @[Reave] is perfect. He knows, but Lilli doesn’t and so the siblings don’t - something that the roan isn’t sure he should rectify just yet. Brazen’s child is the next in line, and why shouldn’t he?
Nerine will once again be ruled by a descendant of Scorch. Leilan sure isn’t about to stop it.
He appears, the new trick of teleportation one of his strong suits - perhaps because he so often wandered - and lets the gyrfalcon fly to greet the harpy eagle. The two birds of prey circle one another while the scaled roan greets his niece’s grandson. ”I’d hoped she would liven up the place,” he starts, then walks up to the two-year-old. ”Alas, some who burn bright burn only shortly. Perhaps you can do better?” Aquamarine is the color of his eyes when he assesses the young one. It is amusing to think how perfect this is. A coincidence? He wonders, but he starts to doubt it.
I don’t think the world is sold on just doing what we’re told
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
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.”
The future isn’t something that Leilan ever had been able to look into, and even now, with the magic of freezing temperatures at hoof, he doesn’t look into it. It’d be a messy thing anyway, he would tell himself if he ever did remember that it could be a possible trait of his now. But he has no interest. In fact, politics have always bored him, and his plans for the future are based on just that.
Leave it to the young and bold to carry the future; the ice dragon is content to sit on his rocks and watch the world go by. It has the same rhythm as usual, if he participates or not. But perhaps this is why, when he sees an opportunity, he discerns a touch if fairy magic, or of fate. He’s always known when escaping was inevitable. In his younger life he had, after all, tried to avoid being caught and failed miserably in the face of destiny.
Reave’s head lifts when the implication of Leilan’s words reach him, issuing a small knowing smile from the newly-made magician. He doesn’t by a long shot know everything that his magic could do, but he doesn’t need it. Not right now. ”On that, we agree,” he nods to the young man. Fire in Nerine, hmm. It had never lasted long; always greeted with a cold wind and damp sea spray, and besides, rocks just don’t have a tendency to burn. Only the pine trees bear scorch marks, but have been overgrown with the humid mosses again, as well.
”I’ll inform your brothers of your new move, and the rest of the North. If you need assistance with recruiting, I’d suggest starting with the caves. I believe you may find a few faces willing to help.” For one, Nerine wasn’t truly empty; sadly most residents had preferred not to engage in fighting monsters, or if they did they had taken up a position that they could defend.
@[Reave] will do fine. It’s in his blood, after all. ”What would you like to call yourself?” It’s not gonna be Rook, that’s for sure.
I don’t think the world is sold on just doing what we’re told
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
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.
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