i am the mace, the map, the fall and the high
Her laughter wreaths the chill air, causing Reave to grin widely in response. Though his temper could be just as swift as his humor, he has always preferred the carefree response. Life has enough dark emotions waiting to draw them down that it does not need more. He knows that precarious line far too well, despite how rarely he demonstrates it.
He chuckles at her demure avowal, though he doesn’t believe a word of it. Not with the memories that flicker so briefly through her thoughts. He finds he does not mind in the least. Instead he smirks impishly, eyes glinting behind the glow of his carved mask. “Oh, but rumors can be delightfully informative,” he replies cheekily. “I wouldn’t dismiss them so quickly.”
As she tilts her head in that vaguely coy manner and accepts his invitation, Reave eyes her openly, lips still quirked faintly at the corners. He shifts when she settles beside him, confident steps carrying him across the uneven terrain of the frozen moors as he leads the way towards a nearby hillock, proud cliffs jutting in the distance behind it.
“Is that an invitation?” he asks, features slipping into something decidedly wicked, blue gaze sharp and focused. The smile that stretches across his mouth is devilish in its charm. “Those rumors must be magnificent if you believe I’m that omniscient.” He pauses then, eyes slipping to the distant coastline before returning to her. His steps never falter. “Should I prove them right or wrong?”
@Bardot