i am the mace, the map, the fall and the high
“Anywhere but here,” Wu had said, and Reave does. It is almost as far from here as one could unless one wished to swim.
The bone-clad stallion is not prone to idle chatter, but he somehow doubts that his new companion will mind. Rune flies far above, keeping pace easily as he drifts on the distant thermals. Occasionally he drifts down, though only once does he pass close, the great span of his wings blocking the sun briefly as he glides overhead.
As they move north, the landscape slowly shifts from belly tickling-grasses to rocky hills to the massive sequoias that stand sentinel over the northernmost territories. It is only when they finally leave the trees behind as they rise into the windswept moors of Nerine that Reave finally focuses the full force of his attention on Wu once more.
Though Reave had not spent his youth on these austere cliffs, he looks as though he belongs. With the bone erupting from his skin and painting his face and limbs with blood and ivory, he could almost be a warrior of old, stepping from the craigs of the cliffs with a war cry on his lips, eyes bright in the fearsome mask of his features. He is none of those things, of course, but he so very easily could be.
When he faces Wu however, it is not with a warrior’s rage in his eye, but rather with an impish smile on his lips. His head tips curiously as he watches the black and white stallion for a moment before asking, “Is it everything you imagined?”
reave
@[Wu]