i am the mace, the map, the fall and the high
He doesn’t retreat from her exploration, instead eyeing her with an open and unfeigned interest. Neither does he shy away from the chill of her skin sinking deep into his bone, numbing the torn edges of his own flesh. It’s a strange thing, that she is both living and yet somehow made of ice and snow. But then, Beqanna is filled with strange things. With things who should not exist yet somehow do.
Reave has seen enough of them to know that this is not nearly so odd as it could be.
When she withdraws, the skin along his ribs and spine shiver, shaking off the faint tingle her icy touch had left behind. Blue eyes clash against blue as they stare at each other, her lips as still and unsmiling as his are mobile and expressive, her icy temperament an intriguing foil to the lightning of his own. Two opposing forces meeting so unexpectedly.
It takes him a moment to realize why she is so intriguing. Just what it is about her that drags at his curiosity. She is difficult to read. Her emotions are as her skin and eyes, sparing him so few memories to glut upon. He wonders then what he might see if he were to step into her sight, if he were to peek through all that she has seen. Would they be as cold and adrift as she now appears, or would he find something else? Something entirely surprising?
What else hurts? she asks, and Reave flicks his ears idly, not certain how he is supposed to answer that. He has never paid overly much attention to the things in life that cause discomfort. If anything, he has long preferred to avoid them. They are there, of course, lurking. Waiting. He can feel them if he considers it too closely. But they are not physical hurts.
“Would you like to see?” he asks, offering to answer in the only way he knows how. But would she truly care to take a walk in his most painful memories?
reave
@[camellia]