i am the mace, the map, the fall and the high
At first the darkness had meant little to him. It had been new and foreign and thrilling. But that had faded as the understanding of its consequence had begun to take root inside his mind. Though he cared little for those outside his ever-growing circle, those within it had earned what care he had to give. He had not had much to offer, but he had freely offered what little he had.
He could not dislike the darkness for its nature, but that does not mean he had not been glad to see it go. For a moment, he had thought it might take him with it. But when it hadn’t, he had suddenly had a much better understanding - an appreciation previously absent - for the life he had lived.
And it had made him suddenly quite selfish. He is not certain he would ever wish to sacrifice it so easily again.
But these are the thoughts he avoids. The turmoil she senses in him, drawing her like ants to a feast. When his eyes find her beside a lone tree, the blue of them is bright and crackling with leashed energy. A frown tugs on his lips just as the small smile softens hers, eyes roving the air around her, struck by how muted the flashes of memory around her are.
It is only when she plucks at threads of remembered humor that he understands.
Just as she toys with the edges of buried emotions, so too does he delve into the sights she had buried. The memories that could not lie. But he is surprised to find he is not the first. Surprised to find that he does, in fact, know her. Or at least, know of her.
“Aela!” The surprise of it turns her name into something akin to an accusation. Suddenly struck with curiosity (fueled by his most elusive sibling), he steps closer, studying her with an unnerving (and unwittingly familiar) intensity. Then, a small half-smile quirking his boyish lips, he quips back, “Who says my fun has been spoiled?”
reave
@[Aela]