He had settled into the darkness as easily as he had settled into the light. In all honesty, he might have been perfectly content to continue on this way into eternity were it not for the widespread destruction even he could not ignore. The monsters wreaking havoc might have been perfectly manageable had they not stolen the sun. And without the sun, spring had never truly arrived. The air had remained cool, warming only infinitesimally with the changing of the seasons. But the farther north one traveled, the more bitter and inhospitable it became.
Without heat and sun, the wild variety of flora that flourished across the continent had begun to wither, unable to sustain itself. Food grows scarce even as the shadowy beasts grow plump and overly confident.
Reave has watched it happen from the relative safety and comfort distance provides, but as the days pass (though who could truly tell anymore?), the circles of safety and comfort have begun to shrink. For a boy not given to worry, he had certainly been doing his fair share of it lately. Not nearly as much as either of his parents, but it seems to be infectious.
Still, he cannot stay his legs from wandering. Even if he could, the food in Taiga had already begun to grow scarce. Though Taiga is home to inhabitants possessing talents for growing things, they could hardly work with what did not exist. Unless one developed a taste for wood, of course (which, speaking from experience, Reave could say with certainty was not a particularly good idea).
And so he leaves more and more frequently, finding himself in all the strangest corners of Beqanna.
Today he is not in a particularly odd place, even if it is one he hasn’t visited frequently. Bright blue eyes tracing the choppy current of the swiftly moving river, he trails almost absently along the muddy banks. He is caked near up to his knees, his belly heavily splattered, masking the way his skin seems to stretch too tightly over bones that protrude much too sharply (it would be easy to believe it is because he is underfed, but the truth is much less pleasant). In any case, the mud or the rapidly growing bone is hardly what interests him. On occasion, his gaze goes distant, eyes growing glassy as he seeks… something. He’s not entirely sure what it is, but he’s certain he’ll know it when he sees it.
reave
@[Rare]