i am the mace, the map, the fall and the high
Just as he had known she would, she agrees. She follows, the luminous grin on her lips redolent with curiosity, her breaths edged in excitement. His grin matches hers in its depth, unrepentant in its delight. Though blood still dots her gilded skin, the hazy moments of death are left behind them. Not forgotten, but irrelevant to all the things that come next.
He should invite her to a secluded cove to wash away the evidence of her darkness, but he does not. Truth be told, it doesn’t even occur to him. He is so accustomed to blood that the small sprays of it on her flesh do not signify. His own form is dotted in it too, speckless of avian and equine blood mingling where it dries on skin and bone.
Instead he leads the way up the cliff and across the heathered moors of his home. Her question draws his attention, though it does not slow his steps. His blue eyes find her, boldly inquisitive in their directness. “A few years,” he replies softly, watching her, wondering what had inspired this question. “I claimed the seat when I was two.”
He wonders what she will make of that. He had been young - barely more than a boy - when he had taken Nerine as his own. Ambition had settled heavily into the pit of his stomach from a very young age, and he has not been shy in pursuing it. Just as he has not been shy in pursuing her.
The small cluster of mountains he is taking her to are not far. They are not tall compared to some, but in the open expanse of Nerine, the view is unparalleled. As they begin to ascend, Reave slips his gaze over his lovely companion, lips tilting into a smirk.
reave
@Israfel