i am the mace, the map, the fall and the high
Rune never likes it when Reave ventures into the forest, though Reave rarely pays him any heed. He knows it’s because the bird can’t see him from the sky. He pretends it’s for protection, but Reave knows better. Now more than ever he needs the bird’s guidance, even if he does not want it most days. Something important had splintered inside him when he’d returned from the mountain to find the south fallen into the sea. Something that hadn’t been returned to him in the form of a giant raptor like it had last time.
Instead of taking to the sky, the harpy eagle has chosen to perch on the bone jutting from Reave’s hip, a silent sentinel as he bobs with the stallion’s every step. Reave hardly notices, too used to the bird’s weight to pay him much heed. He had grown into maturity now, and the bones’ growth had finally slowed so his skin no longer splits as it once had. He knows one day very soon it would freeze entirely, caught in the timelock of his immortality.
It’s the one-sided conversation that catches his attention first. Sound carries strangely in these trees, so at first he isn’t quite certain what he hears. But as he sends his senses to find the small eyes interspersed liberally through these trees, he soon locates the source. A familiar source.
How curious.
She had chosen not to follow either of them all those years ago, but Reave doesn’t care about that. After all, he has spent much of his time running from his own demons. Yet even after all this time, he still finds himself wanting to know more about the spotted mare. There is something there, lingering beneath the surface. Something he hadn’t been able to uncover in their short conversation in the field.
And if ever there was a weakness Reave possessed, it’s that of curiosity.
He doesn’t hide his footsteps as he approaches, nor does he hide the roguish grin that curls his lips when she comes into sight. “Hello Nereza,” he greets, blue eyes gleaming behind the carved bone of his glowing mask. Carvings that tell the story of his recent hubris. His gaze skims over the roses creeping around her, idle amusement in the roaming stare. “You’ve been keeping yourself busy, I see.”
@Nereza