i am the mace, the map, the fall and the high
She declares that the world is too stingy to make him a hero, and he laughs. He laughs because he cannot help himself. He laughs because even if there is truth in it, he still doubts anyone would ever dare declare him as such (even if she might, she is the only). And he laughs because despite all of that, he has never wanted to be a hero.
He had offered his life for the sake of the world once, but it had not been from the goodness of his heart. It had not been some deep desire to save the world that inspired him to take up the challenge. No, it had been love for his family. For their sake, he had put his life on the line. Had it not been for them, he would have so easily left the rest of them to hang for their arrogance.
And if truth were to be told, he had been only a child then. A child with childish notions and imaginations.
Leaning in close, he mutters the only response he can to her, his voice still redolent with humor. “The world is full of fools.” Perhaps he is one of those fools, but he would not be one filled with fanciful notions of his own self-importance.
She does not retreat from the sharp angle of his shoulder against hers, and he finds himself pleased. Even when he draws away first, he is still pleased, though if pressed, he’s not quite certain he could articulate why. Male pride perhaps. Or maybe it is as simple as the pleasure of having found someone who does not recoil from the fearsome and bloody image he paints.
With that wide grin stretching across his lips, eyes gleaming with careless delight, Reave shifts forward. His eyes dance from her to the moors sweeping before him. The cliffs jutting into the edge of the horizon. With another glance at Elliana, he starts forward, words heedless on his lips, “Come along then.”
It’s not far, nestled on the edge of the cliff. And as they reach it, the gnarled and lawless layout stretches in an uneven circle. One could walk among the plants, if they dare the treacherous and twisting paths. If they dared the gaping maws and carnivorous inclination of the plants growing within. Reave once had, as a child. When the stone corpse of his mother had been stolen and placed within, a macabre statue to grace this bloodthirsty garden.
It seems to sense their presence, the spiny buds turning and opening in their direction. Inviting. Warning. Or perhaps both. Gaze shifting to his companion, he lifts one brow in question. “So, is it everything you imagined?”
reave
@Elliana