i am the mace, the map, the fall and the high
Having spent the entirety of his life with a face as mobile and constantly shifting as water, Reave doesn’t even notice. He is so used to being the one who moves, the one who paces, the one who never stays still, that this does not strike him as the least bit odd. The way Wu remains still and placid is no different than a hundred conversations that have come before - the ones that require talk rather than action.
And for Reave, it hardly matters whether every thought flits across another’s face or if it remains as stony and still as a cliff. The emotions and memories fling themselves into his path regardless, telling stories that their faces never could. And if he needed more, their eyes told him the rest. So, though Wu may not wear his thoughts in his expressions, they are Reave’s nonetheless. The trees and the squirrels and the birds are written in the loneliness that surrounds him, in the madness the encroaches too close, in the fear of the unknown.
To Reave, who has seen fear and laughed it away, it is an odd thing. An enticing thing. Something he wants to take and prod until he discovers what happens. If that meant taking Wu Elsewhere, all the better.
His blue eyes gleam with delight and anticipation now, lips twisting into a satisfied grin as his newfound companion agrees to go with him. There are a hundred places they could go, but in the truest twist of irony, the home he had come to find new company for would quite possibly be the one to inspire the most reaction. Wu, who had spent his entire life shrouded by darkness and crowded by branches, would undoubtedly find the windswept moors a vast change. The caves or small copses of evergreens might suit him better, but they would not hold him in their bosom in the same way the forest did.
And so, with a grin on his lips and a devilish gleam in his eye, Reave replies, “I know the perfect place.”
reave
@[Wu]