i am the mace, the map, the fall and the high
Reave has never pondered destiny. It has never been a thing that held any importance to him, and thus never able to capture his interest. He had most certainly never pondered his own. Even in the off moments when one considered the future, he’d never truly contemplated where his might lead. And by that same token, neither had he dwelled on his auspicious lineage.
He knows nothing of the weight of the history he bears in his blood, nothing of the ancestry that had been such an integral part in crafting this land.
His grandmother would certainly be disappointed.
Whether he had been meant to end up here or not, he could not say. But to a boy who is so very nearly a man, there is a sense of purpose here that is almost undeniable. A purpose he hadn’t known he’d been lacking. The missing pieces of it may have manifested in his restless wandering, but either way it had led him here.
In the days to come, he would never quite be sure whether it was destiny or happenstance.
As the two raptors begin to circle one another on distant thermals, Reave’s eyes, a bright and burning blue, land on Leilan. There is an unwitting familiarity in that gaze as it rests the leader of the North. His jaw clenches briefly when he mentions the electric keeper of Nerine, fueled by memories of a gut wrenching theft. It had led to the re-birth of his mother, so he could not truly hate her for it, but it seems some grudges do not flee the heart so easily.
He stills when Leilan suggests that perhaps he could do better, struck by the implication. He stares at his distant uncle for a long moment before shifting to peer at the austere expanse of cliff and waves, the hardy brown grasses and stony outcrops. When his attention finally makes its way back to Leilan, a small, wry grin briefly curls across his lips. “Yes,” he replies abruptly, as though that might hide the faint traces of self-deprecation at his own foolish certainty. “This place has never been well suited for fire anyway.”
reave
@[Leilan]