i am the mace, the map, the fall and the high
It had not taken Reave long to find home in the stark cliffs and windswept expanse of the moors. He had grown in the heavy wood to the south, but even as a youth, he had not been designed for a gentle or easy existence. There is a harshness in the way the glowing bone frames his face and sharpens the lines of his body, a wildness in the gleaming blue of his eye that matches these open expanses. He had made this place home so easily because he had been cut from the very same cloth that created it.
As he eyes his golden companion, he has to wonder if she would appreciate it as much as he does.
It’s foolish to care if she would, but a part of him does. As though, deep down, her approval of the home he guards would be akin to approval of himself. It’s an absurd notion, but he still can’t seem to fully separate himself from it.
His eyes gleam as she asks if this is his home, sweeping the rugged expanse with an air of possession. When they land back on her, the look in his eye does not change, though a faint grin pulls at his lips. “Yes,” he replies simply. He wants to ask if she likes it, but he can’t bring himself to. If she didn’t, he’d rather not hear it from her lips. Instead, his grin widens and he asks, “Would you like to see something?”
reave
@Israfel