He drifts from the outer edges of the Taigan forest, breath still steadying from what he had seen beyond. The darkness covering the land had brought horror and destruction along with it. A vision of endless tragedy that Reave had not been fully prepared to find. It’s strange to find comfort here in the darkness where monsters too lurk, but after the brightness of the unforested regions beyond, it feels almost comforting. Outside these trees where the pale rim of light around the moon still provided some illumination, it had seemed almost blindingly bright (especially to his night-adjusted vision).

But he is not left long to dwell on what he had seen. Instead his thoughts are interrupted by muffled footsteps, and soon a faint glow is visible through the trees. The glow is as much a reassurance as the sight he had sent winging ahead to discover just who (or what) might be approaching him.

It takes him a moment to recognize the chestnut and blue, to place the image of her against the list of names and faces he’d learned from his mother and many relations. Memorie. Ironically enough. Though they hadn’t met before, she is easy to place as one of the few who he still needed to.

His ears flick as she greets him by asking if he was Reave, blue eyes bright and curious in the darkness. Though he can see her clearly enough with his self-enhanced sight, he steps closer so that she might be able to do the same. “I am,” he replies simply to her inquiry. “Which must make you Memorie.”

As he says it however, a faint frown begins to tug at his lips. He had seen her through her siblings' sight, but there is something different about her. She is not how they had remembered her. She glows.

And Reave, still too caught up in youth to be given to a great deal of tact, blurts abruptly, “What happened to you?”

reave

He has never been accused of having a great deal of tact. And most certainly never of having developed much in the way of critical thinking. The day would undoubtedly come that he would need to do so, but for now he is simply a child living the careless life of youth, buoyed by the easy acceptance of all those he’d encountered so far.

With the darkness as little obstacle for him, it is easy to pick up on the things that might otherwise be missed. He frequently forgets that his sight has been enhanced, that not everyone has his talent with vision. He only remembers when he steals into others visual memories, the darkness of the world a blunt reminder. Of course, many of the animals he encounters have sight suited much better to the darkness than a horse (a discovery he’d made almost immediately upon the descent of this endless night and co-opted to his own ends), but it is frustrating when he does find one that is not so well suited.

At the moment however, that is neither here nor there. She seems confused by his blunt question, causing his brows to furrow as his lips slip into a frown. But then clarity seems to strike and she offers a rather excited explanation, even going so far as the prance in a circle to better display her glowing limbs.

Tilting his head, Reave eyes her curiously, mind catching on the mention of a most unusual creature. If there is anything certain to catch his attention, it is the unusual. “What kind of creature?” he asks, barely keeping himself from interrupting her. “Was it a monster?” It is undoubtedly impolite of him to probe so much, but curiosity drives him far more than politeness ever has. So much so that almost immediately on the heels of his as yet unanswered questions, he presses for more. “What did he do? Did it hurt?”

reave

It only occurs to Reave belatedly that he did not, in fact, need to ask what the creature she had encountered looked like. He could see it for himself. To the young colt, it feels very much like an egregious oversight on his part. As she launches into her story however, he discovers she shares things that could not otherwise be found through his other sight-thieving means (though that doesn’t stop him from actually looking when she takes a breath for more words of course).

The creature she describes is strange indeed, made even stranger by what she had actually seen. Her excitement hovers around her, a veritable aura of memories ringing with her thrill, trepidation, and awe.

“He breathed on you,” he muses, eyes curiously watchful as he mulls over what she had just shared. “That sounds awfully… damp.” He wrinkles his nose at that, not sure he wished to imagine what the damp breath of a creature like that smelled like. Naturally though, he can’t seem to help himself. “Was it smelly?”

He is a far less eloquent creature than his cousin, as he has already amply demonstrated. But as she waxes poetic about the growth of plants and changes heralding a new and useful glow, the best Reave can seem to manage in the way of insightful conversation is ‘was it smelly’. Not that he notices these things, young and ultimately self-absorbed as he is.

“He seems like a useful sort,” he replies candidly after Memorie has done a second little dance. “Do you think he’d come breath of some of the trees around here? We could use some glowing trees I think.”

reave

To Memorie’s credit, she makes no comment on the absurdity of his own musings. There were many other things he might ask, the majority far more inspired than damp and smelly. But, most certainly not to Reave’s credit, he finds this information much more fascinating than any of the other dozen things he might have asked. Even if it does make him wrinkle his nose.

In fact, her description causes so much nose wrinkling, one could be forgiven for imagining it could become a permanent feature on his face. But as she tries to recall why it had smelled so familiar, Reave tilts his head, eyeing her with open curiosity. When she suddenly remembers and informs him - quite excitedly - that it had smelled like her papa, Reave can’t seem to temper the incredulous expression that crosses his features just before a laugh bursts abruptly from his lips.

He’s not quite certain whether it’s funnier that her father smells like a giant, shaggy, turtle-backed creature or that his imagination immediately wants to place Yanhua into the role disguised as Grodylin. “Are you sure it wasn’t your dad?” he asks breathlessly, still trying to contain his laughter. “Maybe he has a penchant for moonlighting as big hairy beasts.”

Unable to help himself, Reave starts laughing all over again, nearly doubling over as he tries to contain it. He entirely misses her wink in his mirth, but her suggestion that they might soon have big glowing mushrooms does catch his attention. His laughter is immediately stifled as he straightens, ears pricking in abrupt curiosity. “Really?”

The thought of glowing mushrooms soon dotting these woods proves quite imagination catching. Enough that he nearly forgets his amusement from only moments earlier. At least, until Memorie suggests they depart on an adventure to find Grodylin. The prospect sounds wildly intriguing, but Reave can’t seem to help the teasing rejoinder that almost immediately escapes his lips. “Oh, you mean your dad?”

His lips twitch in his effort to hold in his suddenly renewed laughter, but Reave, never terribly good at holding himself back, soon finds himself wheezing once more.

reave

Reave is not quite silly enough to actually believe what he is saying of course. But given the opportunity, he hadn’t been able to resist teasing her about it. He’s delighted when she shifts from exasperation to genuine amusement, even if she too can’t seem to resist the urge to try and set him straight. Her explanation is a perfectly logical one, but at the moment, Reave is hardly interested in logic. It is far more imagination catching to picture his elder brother as a shaggy hunchback, not to mention hilarious. The alternative just seems rather… boring after that.

And if there is a boy his age would try to avoid with all his might, it’s boredom.

So he shakes his head in response to her explanation, still chortling. “But are you absolutely sure?” he asks, prodding her towards his (admittedly outlandish) theory. “Technically, maybe your father likes wearing turtle shells.”

He bursts into laughter again, which is only expounded when she finally gives in and begins musing on his theory with a genuine laugh of her own.

As is the way of youth however, they find themselves quickly moving on to a new subject, albeit a slightly less amusing (if no less fascinating) one. Jokes about her father aside, the prospect of new flora sprouting up amidst the giant sequoias and hardy evergreens is intriguing. She confirms news of the glowing mushrooms, causing Reave to twist his head around to peer at their surroundings, trying to imagine how that might look.

Memorie’s foray into a teasing question of her own brings his attention swiftly back to her, a grin quickly returning to his lips, fighting against the moue that wants to take its placel (leading to what is an undoubtedly odd expression). “Ladies first!” he quips quickly back, eyes crinkling in amusement, lips twitching, as he turns that challenge right back at her. “What kind of gentleman would I be otherwise?”

reave