i am the mace, the map, the fall and the high
If Reave were a better kind of man, he would be more constant. Would be a presence one could count on, that one could find without even trying. But he is none of those things. But he is too restless. Too… incomplete. And so, though he always returns eventually, he is gone nearly as much as he is present. Always searching for something more.
Just like the day they had met.
He thinks of her at times. How could he not? She had fascinated him then, and she still does now, though perhaps in a different way. She had stayed when she could have just as easily left, and he had often wondered why. She must know by now he is nearly as fickle as the breeze blowing in off the ocean.
But just like that breeze, he always returns. At times gentle, at others a tempest, but there nonetheless.
The sun is glinting off the ocean as he strolls idly along the crumbling edges of the cliffs, as though daring them to break away beneath his feet. When the light catches on something brighter, his gaze is drawn inexorably in that direction. He finds her standing there in the distance, back to the ocean as the sun gleams lovingly across her golden skin. She would have been blinding if he could not so easily adjust his vision against the pain.
A grin stretches across his lips as he turns in her direction. He had brought her from the shadows, and he often wonders that she had never tried to return. But now, as then, he sees her and knows she was never made to be hidden.
“Aren’t you a vision?” he offers by way of greeting as he nears, blue eyes glinting with an almost sinful light. Lips curling at the corners, he cants his head before asking, “Have you given up the shadows entirely then?”
@Israfel