i am the mace, the map, the fall and the high
Reave had been born into a world of gray. Where so many youth believed in the fallacy of good versus evil, Reave had long understood otherwise. Not to do so would mean he must then be evil. After all, he had killed his mother. In a world of black and white, only the heinous kill. But Lilli had never let him believe it, even in the depths of her grief.
And so Reave had been born knowing the world is not a simple one. Everything he has known since then has only confirmed it.
Though spring is now heavily upon them, the young stallion could not be pressed to remain for too long on the windswept moors of his territory. The winds had grown milder and the gorse and flax had begun blooming, but with company sparse, the temptation to find other sport is far too great.
It is not often Reave finds himself in the field. Of course, as a youth, extolling the virtues of ones home had hardly seemed an exciting prospect. Truth be told, it still doesn’t. Even so, Reave rather suspects he could find interesting company here, even if he did turn out to be a terrible saleshorse.
When a black and pearly white form catches his eyes, he shifts his attention curiously, peering at the stallion for a long, contemplative moment before deciding he looks at least moderately interesting. Reave, in all his youthful zeal, is an inherently selfish creature. And so, the majority of his life decisions thus far had been balanced on the decisive edge of whether he imagined something would be boring or exciting.
As he approaches, he can see flashes of the other stallion’s memories flitting like fireflies on the turbulent whirls of his emotions. Though some are far too brief to catch, the one thing that becomes perfectly clear is his uncertainty. It brings a small, speculative smile to his lips as he draws to an easy halt near the stranger. He is undoubtedly an odd sight, with glowing bone puncturing his shoulders and hips, features wrent by a half-grown mask. But Reave, so accustomed to his oddity now, bears the confidence of someone far more beautiful than he.
“You don’t look so sure about being here,” he quips by way of greeting, head tilting curiously. His grin widens then, vibrant blue eyes gleaming from the shadows of his growing mask. “Or is it that you’re not sure about where you’ve been?”
reave
@[Wu]