02-17-2021, 11:01 AM
<link rel="preconnect" href="https://fonts.gstatic.com"><link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Gruppo&family=Source+Sans+Pro:wght@200&display=swap" rel="stylesheet"><style>#babyreave{width:650px;}#babyreaveimg{position:relative;z-index:0;}#babyreavewrapper{width:650px;position:relative;z-index:1;border:10px solid #aa9c90;background-color:#dccec2;}#babyreavetext{width:546px;margin:0px;border:2px solid #9a2b12;padding:50px;color:#4f463e;font-size:14px;font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', sans-serif;}#babyreavename{color:#9a2b12;font-size:50px;font-family: 'Gruppo', cursive;letter-spacing:70px;margin-top:20px;margin-bottom:-10px;margin-right:0px}</style><center><div id="babyreave"><div id="babyreaveimg"><img src="https://i.postimg.cc/1XLp7h1X/Reave-Baby.png" width="650px"/></div><div id="babyreavewrapper"><div id="babyreavetext"><p style="margin:0px;" align="justify">He hears the cry on the very edges of his consciousness, faint and soft, the lilt of exhaustion echoing around the seams. He is immediately drawn to it (who wouldn’t be?), but there is as much curiosity in the interest as there is concern. Though Lilliana had tried very hard to instill a sense of altruism within him, his base nature had not been encumbered with it by instinct (no, the voice of reason inside his mind is most certainly that of his much gentler mother). Though he has yet to grow into it, he is, at the heart of it all, a rather selfish creature.
He answers though, because his head, heart, and soul demand it, for once in unison - even if it is not for the same reasons.
He has grown in the darkness, the days of light only faint memories of a much younger boy. In truth, he had discovered his purpose in this darkness. Had found missing pieces of himself lingering in the black cracks and grappling claws of the beasts shuffling their way through it. Even as his body had grown, so too had his mind and his abilities. His talent for plucking the delicate strings of sight had blossomed even as he had grown adept at untangling the webs of emotion and memory strung so precariously all across this continent. Erupting much like the bone had begun to do as it struggles to break through skin that wishes to stretch instead.
For this, Reave cannot truly hate the monsters. He has watched for months, trying to find the reason for their desire to claim this world. He has watched the horrors they perpetrated and the havoc they wreaked. He understands that the fairies' absence - the weakness now in their voices - must somehow be related, but even still he cannot hate them.
They are clever in their cruelty, and it is a cleverness he can appreciate.
But he answers the call because he does understand. Because he knows that there would be no harmony with them, knows his own survival depends on their defeat, no matter how fascinating he might find them. As the stench of decay grows stronger and the plants that keep him alive wither, his understanding only deepens. And he responds with the ferocity of one facing annihilation.
Young and untried as he is, he would still do his level best. Just as he always has and always would. As the base of the mountain grows near, shadowed despite his enhanced sight, he sees he is not the only one. He even recognizes some of the faces gathering, bolstering him immeasurably. Failing strangers would be one thing, but failing family - that is another horror all together. Though Lilli’s success in establishing moral fortitude within him may have proven ineffective at best, she had, at the very least, managed to instill a great respect for one’s own kin.
And that, more than anything, would drive him forward without question.</p><p id="babyreavename" align="right">reave</p></div></div></div></center>
He answers though, because his head, heart, and soul demand it, for once in unison - even if it is not for the same reasons.
He has grown in the darkness, the days of light only faint memories of a much younger boy. In truth, he had discovered his purpose in this darkness. Had found missing pieces of himself lingering in the black cracks and grappling claws of the beasts shuffling their way through it. Even as his body had grown, so too had his mind and his abilities. His talent for plucking the delicate strings of sight had blossomed even as he had grown adept at untangling the webs of emotion and memory strung so precariously all across this continent. Erupting much like the bone had begun to do as it struggles to break through skin that wishes to stretch instead.
For this, Reave cannot truly hate the monsters. He has watched for months, trying to find the reason for their desire to claim this world. He has watched the horrors they perpetrated and the havoc they wreaked. He understands that the fairies' absence - the weakness now in their voices - must somehow be related, but even still he cannot hate them.
They are clever in their cruelty, and it is a cleverness he can appreciate.
But he answers the call because he does understand. Because he knows that there would be no harmony with them, knows his own survival depends on their defeat, no matter how fascinating he might find them. As the stench of decay grows stronger and the plants that keep him alive wither, his understanding only deepens. And he responds with the ferocity of one facing annihilation.
Young and untried as he is, he would still do his level best. Just as he always has and always would. As the base of the mountain grows near, shadowed despite his enhanced sight, he sees he is not the only one. He even recognizes some of the faces gathering, bolstering him immeasurably. Failing strangers would be one thing, but failing family - that is another horror all together. Though Lilli’s success in establishing moral fortitude within him may have proven ineffective at best, she had, at the very least, managed to instill a great respect for one’s own kin.
And that, more than anything, would drive him forward without question.</p><p id="babyreavename" align="right">reave</p></div></div></div></center>