i am the mace, the map, the fall and the high
They are fond of the same games, it seems. Even without his abilities, it would be easy enough to see that, despite their obvious differences, they are in fact quite similar in many ways. As though ambition and curiosity draw undeniable lines in the face.
He tips his head slightly, her bald reply causing a corner of his lips to pull briefly upward, amusement flashing across his masked features. He could not begin to count the times he had looked upon another only to find pity in their face when they contemplated his wounds. But it is not pity he finds in hers. Rather, it’s the familiar face of curiosity.
His grin widens at her question. “Only when I think about it,” he replies blithely, voice filled with restrained humor. It’s the thing about chronic pain, that peculiar fact. One grows so accustomed to it that it only becomes noticeable when pointed out or somehow worsened. Like being introduced to a salty sea, for instance.
It does not surprise him that she takes note of his restlessness. What does surprise him however, is her offer to walk. He is not terribly old, but in all his years, he has always had to be the one to suggest outlets for his inability to stand still. Others notice, to be sure, but they almost always pretend not to.
It would be easy to imagine her suggestion is an act of compassion, but Reave suspects otherwise. If he had to guess, he would say it stems from familiarity instead.
“Let’s,” he agrees readily, eyes lighting with keen interest. He shifts easily, moving in the direction she had indicated, though his attention remains on her. Her laughter brings a glint to his vibrant gaze and a grin to his lips. It’s a pleasant sound, her laugh, even if his ears are not quite what hers are.
“I suppose they must be,” he muses, gaze shifting briefly from her as he contemplates her answer. “Otherwise you’d be muddling around with earfuls of water.” He chuckles. “And that sounds horribly unpleasant.”
reave
@Rezza