i am the mace, the map, the fall and the high
It’s an oddly evocative way of communication, the memories that dance between them. They are littered with their shared emotion. He can nearly taste her dislike in the images of the damp and foggy woods he calls home, her love in the memories of the blue and white woman who had raised her, the deep desire for freedom and power imbued through the visions of her life now. The darkness of fearsome surf and imposing black figure.
His smile widens, crinkling the corners of his blue eyes as he watches her. Between them they tell stories, many he’d never known before. It’s intoxicating, fueling a drive for more he hadn’t known existed until this moment.
She might deny herself a Northerner, but the ties that still bound her to the kingdom were broad and irrefutable, no matter how she chose to deny it.
Her question at his little white lie is probing, though it hardly phases the red and white youth. He has very little to hide, and what secrets he does have were not ones she could dredge up so easily. Mostly because he still stubbornly keeps them from even himself. Instead she inspires a wry gleam in his eye and an odd quirk to his grin. “I’m still deciding.”
Her next question piques his interest however. It is a telling question, though he’s not certain she realizes it. Even Reave, in his often less than observant way, picks up on it. And he wonders if perhaps it is more than just the fog and damp. “No, not particularly,” he replies easily, his own tone now probing. “It’s hardly a prison.” He pauses, grin unconsciously fading as he considers her closely, bright blue gaze surprisingly perceptive. “Unless you imagine it a prison.”
reave
@[Aela]