03-04-2021, 10:04 AM
<link rel="preconnect" href="https://fonts.gstatic.com"><link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Gruppo&family=Source+Sans+Pro:wght@200&display=swap" rel="stylesheet"><style>#babyreave{width:650px;}#babyreaveimg{position:relative;z-index:0;}#babyreavewrapper{width:650px;position:relative;z-index:1;border:10px solid #aa9c90;background-color:#dccec2;}#babyreavetext{width:546px;margin:0px;border:2px solid #9a2b12;padding:50px;color:#4f463e;font-size:14px;font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', sans-serif;}#babyreavename{color:#9a2b12;font-size:50px;font-family: 'Gruppo', cursive;letter-spacing:70px;margin-top:20px;margin-bottom:-10px;margin-right:0px}</style><center><div id="babyreave"><div id="babyreaveimg"><img src="https://i.postimg.cc/1XLp7h1X/Reave-Baby.png" width="650px"/></div><div id="babyreavewrapper"><div id="babyreavetext"><p style="margin:0px;" align="justify">Despite the darkness and gathering bodies, he immediately notices when his mother arrives. Even in the chaos of memories dancing around them, he recognizes hers with a familiarity born of having spent his short life studying them. He finds her easily, concern and fear and determination beating a wild rhythm in his own chest. No words are necessary as he presses his nose to her cheek (a reassurance for them both) in the moments before the fairies appear.
They are weary and shifting, their battle so clearly long and hard already. But they address the group, an ancient tale spilling from their lips. Reave has spent so much time studying the creatures it is almost anticlimactic to finally understand. To know just what motivates the beasts invading their home.
At least he knows now why they had been so impossible to read.
To an untried youth, the choice put before them sounds like an epic adventure - a fairytale of old. But Reave is no longer as untried as he had once been. His thirst for understanding has led him down so many dark paths already. Enough to understand that this is another of those impossible choices. It would be so easy to imagine oneself the grand savior. To fly heedlessly down the path of rescue while picturing a glorious return as the rescuer of Beqanna.
Even a few short months ago, Reave would have been captured by such visions. Would have thrown himself down that road without question.
Now though, he knows differently. He knows the world is never quite so black and white. He knows his own talents do not lend to that of a savior. He is no one’s savior, least of all Beqanna. But he is very good at misdirection. At distraction. At sowing chaos.
Though it feels like eternity, in truth it is only moments later that he steps forward to speak. <b>“I will be a distraction.”</b> The words fall from his lips with certainty - an understanding of purpose that can only come from experience, new as it may be.</p><p id="babyreavename" align="right">reave</p></div></div></div></center>
They are weary and shifting, their battle so clearly long and hard already. But they address the group, an ancient tale spilling from their lips. Reave has spent so much time studying the creatures it is almost anticlimactic to finally understand. To know just what motivates the beasts invading their home.
At least he knows now why they had been so impossible to read.
To an untried youth, the choice put before them sounds like an epic adventure - a fairytale of old. But Reave is no longer as untried as he had once been. His thirst for understanding has led him down so many dark paths already. Enough to understand that this is another of those impossible choices. It would be so easy to imagine oneself the grand savior. To fly heedlessly down the path of rescue while picturing a glorious return as the rescuer of Beqanna.
Even a few short months ago, Reave would have been captured by such visions. Would have thrown himself down that road without question.
Now though, he knows differently. He knows the world is never quite so black and white. He knows his own talents do not lend to that of a savior. He is no one’s savior, least of all Beqanna. But he is very good at misdirection. At distraction. At sowing chaos.
Though it feels like eternity, in truth it is only moments later that he steps forward to speak. <b>“I will be a distraction.”</b> The words fall from his lips with certainty - an understanding of purpose that can only come from experience, new as it may be.</p><p id="babyreavename" align="right">reave</p></div></div></div></center>