i am the mace, the map, the fall and the high
If ever Reave were innocent, it had shattered the day of his birth when his mother breathed her last. At the tender age of only a few minutes old, he had known himself a murderer. Of course, the naivete of youth had lingered longer, but even that had faded far more swiftly than it should. When one sees the world as Reave does, innocence and naivety are a pipe dream of those who haven’t quite lost theirs yet.
But Reave is curious. It lies like a savage hunger in his breast, always craving more. And as the blue and red stranger rounds the corner, Reave recognizes a kindred soul. It is not a single thing he could point to, nor something easy to define. But it dances in the recklessness surrounding him, curls in the darkness of a yearning he recognizes.
The sharp blue of his eyes remain inexorably fixed on the other stallion as he closes the distance. He is so close that Reave can clearly see the defined edges of his youthful features, shadows shifting in the slow movement of the creature circling him. The sharp angles of erupting bone cast oddly against his own red and white skin, creating a strange and ominous illusion between them.
An omen not improved by the way a slow grin begins to curve across Reave’s features in response to the other’s words.
“Not physically,” Reave replies, his own head tilting to match the intriguing stranger. Perhaps he had not physically stayed to watch the waters rise (he unfortunately did not have the same surety he would survive the swelling waters), but he had seen. He hadn’t been able to help himself - not when the sea is so full of eyes. So he smiles a knowing smile, eyes alight with curious anticipation. “Have you?”
reave
@[crowns]