i am the mace, the map, the fall and the high
Trying to follow every possibility is a certain path to madness as far as Reave is concerned. He could spend lifetimes watching the ebb and flow of possibility and never know which is truth and which is nothing more than smoke. Perhaps one day, after he has lived long enough, he would find himself with little better to do. For now though, there are too many other things that compete for the limited attention he has to give.
They may share a similarity in their gift of foretelling, but that is where the similarities end. Reave’s tempestuous nature would not find relief in watching the leaf float along the inconsistent edies of the river.
His grin widens at the chuckle following her admission. “The selfishness of equine nature,” he replies thoughtlessly, lazy amusement threaded through his low voice. He would be the last to judge her for it though. He is inherently selfish himself and has never tried to deny it. “It’s your breath to waste.”
Reave’s eyes are still fixed on the river when she continues, answering as philosophically as he had come to expect in their short acquaintance. He can’t pretend his interest in the subject isn’t waning, and he doesn’t try. When she suggests he already knew however, he shakes his head slightly, pale locks shifting across the soft glow of his mask. Bright gaze returning to her, he studies her for a moment before one corner of his lips quirks up. “I don’t have the patience to study the future that closely.” His eyes glint behind his mask, betraying a darkness buried so shallowly. “You mistake me for someone else if you imagine I want to know every detail before it happens. That just sounds… boring.”
@Ilma