i am the mace, the map, the fall and the high
Her wonder and apprehension would be impossible to miss, but he brushes them aside in favor of the deep curiosity and longing tangled through them. For all that her fear of returning to what once was is written through the memories of the forest, he knows this would not be the same. Could not possibly be the same.
He laughs when she asks if his assertion is good or bad. It is a delighted sound, threaded with genuine amusement. “Good, of course,” he replies, though the grin on his lips is decidedly wicked. For him, it is an excellent thing. Whether it would be for someone else though, well, who would he be to say?
When she nods at him, encouraging him forward, he pauses a moment to peer at her in silence. Only a few heartbeats pass, but it is long enough to fuel curiosity. Then, abruptly he presses his nose to her cheek (an unspoken comfort) before pressing wordlessly forward. He knows the darkness would welcome her like an old friend, wrapping her in its embrace as it hides her from view. Even so, he would never lose her. She had already let him in, gifting him her sight. It is not an easy thing to retract once given.
Pushing forward, he leads her inwards, pressing deeper until, eventually, a soft, nearly imperceptible glow begins to rise from the darkness. He slows then, bumping almost clumsily against her (without the outline of her form, it’s hard to tell where she begins and the shadow ends). With a faint grin, he leads her slowly around a bend until, almost abruptly, a bird takes shape in the darkness. The gilded edges of it’s feathers emit a soft glow, glinting against the golden accents. Upon seeing them, it lets loose a loud and indignant squawk, feathers rising, wings flapping uselessly as it charges them.
Reave, unable to help himself, lets out a loud laugh as he dances sideways, pressing into Israfel, away from the ungainly fury of the bird.
reave
@Israfel