i am the mace, the map, the fall and the high
In so many ways, it’s easier to ignore his own doubts in favor of such reckless pursuit of something more interesting. Easier to launch himself headfirst into picking at the edges of everything this girl knows than it is to pick at his own. It’s why, in the face of something that could undoubtedly have been solved with much greater ease, he chose the harder way. The way that involved her serving as his vicarious distraction.
She could have said no, but she does not. And Reave is delighted. Delighted because he hopes this is only the beginning. Because one small waterfall could so easily morph into something more. A hunt for the dangerously elusive nuckelavee perhaps. Or comparing what shape the wraiths of the icy north might take for them that day. Or a heart-pounding encounter with the antlered bears as they dodged their flames.
The possibilities are simply endless.
He leads the way, as he so often does, picking his way towards the water with a confidence of one who often finds themselves on such spontaneous adventures. The large eagle follows, remaining low and visible now, scouting the way. When they arrive, he is already perched on a stony out-cropping, preening the feather’s of his wings with a familiar nonchalance.
Only when they reach the very edges of the water does Reave stop, turning to peer at Israfel with the familiarly impish grin already on his lips. He doesn’t wait for her however, instead plunging ahead of her, disappearing briefly under the pounding spray of the short waterfall. When he reappears, wheaten mane plastered to red and white skin, he looks at his golden companion expectantly, blue eyes slightly wicked. “Well come on then, nothing’s bitten me yet.”
reave
@[Israfel]