She’s wicked sharp when she wants to be, as sharp as a steel blade and biting to the touch; but when Reave admits to his wondering—this smallest flash of humility—she feels all of her intelligence leave in a flood. Rel breathes out, blinking rapidly but otherwise giving no indication of the gratefulness she feels for the little secret he just offered her.
When Reave says he will show her everything, Galadriel is certain that he means it. That there is absolutely nothing the pair of them can’t do together. And what she doesn’t know, he will teach her; what he cannot do alone, she will offer all that she can. Rel blinks up at his armored the face, the grim set of his severity, the cleverness in his gaze.
She thinks she could love that gaze, to learn some form of softness that works for the both of them.
But at the thought of such a thing, Rel looks away. She sighs as rain begins to patter more rapidly against their hides. Water splatters violently against Reave’s bones, draining quickly along the lovely ivory. A deep breath, a blink, then:
“Can we start with power, then? I want power.”
@Reave