i am the mace, the map, the fall and the high
Though he had never intended to be some twisted version of their grandmother, it seems their particular gifts lent to it all too well. Though he does not hoard secrets as she had, neither does he have the clear answer she would wish. Did that make them two facets of the same stone then?
He watches her as she digests the information he had just imparted, curious if she would be disappointed in it. He is pleased when she is not, proving herself everything he had imagined she is. She is not content to leave the future in the hands of fate. And more, she would join him in tempting it in all the ways his chaos-born soul could desire.
The questions she asks are not simple ones however. The grin on his lips widens, blue eyes growing in intensity as he considers her request, feet shifting in unconscious agitation. He had never been good at remaining still even at the best of times. After a moment, he responds briefly, “I can try.”
His gaze grows distant as he tries to pluck at the threads of the future. They are inconstant and shifting, as changeable as the waves crashing against the nearby shore. To pluck one thread and follow it is nearly impossible in the way it twists and branches from him, infinite paths to follow. Some lead to the same ending, streams and creeks all joining one large river. Yet others meander off entirely, almost too distant to follow. Though outwardly it does not appear straining, he can already feel a headache growing at the back of his skull, the sharp pain indicating he is extending the limits of his ability too far.
This would require a different approach then.
Coming abruptly back to himself, Reave focuses on Aela, a sudden seriousness in his gaze. “If Beqanna were a tree and each kingdom and territory it’s branches, which one do you imagine would take the most branches with it if it were to fall?” he asks, gaze fixed unflinchingly on her. “Our choices make the future. I need to know what yours would be.”
reave
@Aela