i am the mace, the map, the fall and the high
Politics has never been Reave’s forte. He understands the intricacies well enough, but he has never had the desire to submit himself to them. Given how little respect he has for the arbitrary boundaries drawn around each kingdom and territory, he would be a hypocrite to expect it from others. Indeed, there hasn’t been a time in Beqanna’s long history those invisible barriers had stopped anyone intent on destruction.
No, he has always been far better served focusing his time on more important things. If anyone wished to attack the North, he would be an idiot to imagine they would respect its boundaries. He would much rather find other ways to anticipate their arrival.
So no, he is not upset at her trespass. Wouldn’t even have considered rebuffing her. Perhaps the stodgy and old-fashioned would find it rude, but Reave is neither. Instead he meets her with that reckless grin that only widens when she offers a rejoinder, his blue eyes twinkling at the clear challenge in her voice. In a rumbling voice, he replies with easy humor. “Then you clearly have not trespassed far enough.”
He dips his head slightly when she informs him she already knows who he is before tilting it curiously. He can’t pretend surprise at her knowledge. Not when he knows he has begun to make a name for himself on a continent that is too small for anything to remain secret long. “My reputation precedes me then,” he murmurs, lips twitching. “But I hope you won’t hold it against me.”
Though she steps closer, clearly intent on this conversation, Reave does not settle. He never does. Not when his legs so often itch with a restlessness he can never quite shake. Instead he shifts, eyes flicking past her as he considers the distant cliffs. With a questioning tilt of his brow, returns his gaze to her and asks, “Would you like a tour while you tell me what truly brought you here?”
@Bardot