all the weight of my intentions; magnus - Printable Version +- Beqanna (https://beqanna.com/forum) +-- Forum: OOC (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=24) +--- Forum: Archive (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=81) +---- Forum: Lands (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=98) +----- Forum: Tephra (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=85) +----- Thread: all the weight of my intentions; magnus (/showthread.php?tid=22981) Pages:
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all the weight of my intentions; magnus - isle - 02-16-2019
She has been a mother enough times to recognize when life begins to grow inside her again. But this time the realization is followed by entirely new feelings, entirely unfamiliar worry. Before, all her children had been with the man she had loved so wholly, a man who had at one time loved her back. Their children had been planned, wanted, part of their family together. But this had been from something different. Something beautiful, but so less certain. She is struck, not for the first time in her life, at this tangle of uncertainty weighed so heavily in her chest. At one time she would’ve felt joy at such a discovery, would have followed those feelings to the man who had lain with her, whispered this wonderful secret into the curve of his ear. But this man, this would be father, is still so much a stranger to her, even despite his willingness to unfold his heart to her. There are so many things she doesn’t know about him, so many aspects she fears she would never fully be able to understand. He has the wisdom of more time than she can fathom, more experiences than she will ever know in her short life. There is a large part of her heart that wonders how someone like her could ever be enough for a soul like his. An even darker part that forces her to relive the infidelity of her husband before him, of how even he who had loved her so well had grown weary of the family they built together. Weary of her. It is a wound in her soul that runs as deep as anything inside her, a brokenness that makes her forever unsteady on her own feet. It is because she knows her own heart well, knows the beauty and the brokenness. Knows that she is incapable of having this child with this man and not discovering feelings again that have the power to hurt her. She had tried once, to love a man who chose to love more than just her, to father children besides theirs. Had tried because what she felt for him in her heart had demanded it of her, even as it had ruined her. She would not do that again, though. There was not enough left inside her to sustain such a thing. She closes her eyes, feels the child shift within the slender fullness of her dark belly. Has even felt the feather of a touch against her mind, a soft pressure so gentle it makes her wonder if this child will be like her. She could raise the babe on her own, not allow it to interfere with Magnus’ busy life. But he has become enough of a companion, of a friend to her in these many months that she knows without doubt he would not want her to keep this from him. There is no decision to make here. Still, there is much worry coiled in her chest as she turns and makes her way to their favorite place on the cliff side, a spot that overlooks the ocean and the sun as sets in a world turned temporarily orange and pink. He is there waiting for her as he often is, and she is glad to find his mind is quite this evening. No turmoil, no distress, nothing to delay the words she still has no idea how to share with him. She climbs the stony path to the natural rock landing, coming to stand quietly by his side with a familiar kiss she presses into the curve of a golden shoulder. She is quiet for a beat, wordless for a few more, and then she shifts again, her dark and white face a mask of quiet as she takes a tangle of his mane between her lips and guides his nose to the heaviest curve of her belly, to a place where it is easy to feel when their child kicks from within the womb. She releases his mane, lays those dark beautiful eyes against his so searchingly despite that she’ll know anything he thinks in just a second. “We’re going to be parents.” So, so soft. RE: all the weight of my intentions; magnus - magnus - 02-16-2019 I wanna give you wild love, the kind that never slows down I wanna go where the lights burn low and you're only mine RE: all the weight of my intentions; magnus - isle - 02-16-2019
She listens to the strands of his thoughts and wonders if they would not be better off if this role were reversed. If he could hear into her mind, listen to all these secrets she holds so close to her heart, all these weaponizable vulnerabilities she is so careful not to let anyone find. He could know her truths and her heart, know the colors of the bruises behind her eyes and never have to wonder at what he thinks he sees hidden so deep inside her, all these the fissures that race up along her being, the cracks that open up so wide she can feel pieces of who she was slipping away. Ghosts, ghosts of her heart. Of her past and her present. But then there are moments like these, moments when she is sure he must already know her so deep inside despite his doubt that he does not see everything she hides away. Moments when he doesn’t fight her as she draws him closer, brings his lips to her belly so he can feel for himself the life they created together. He has so much faith in her, so much trust, and she has no idea if it is just in his nature to be this way or if it is because he thinks he sees something kindred in her. Something worth being vulnerable for. She feels it too, in shy, wary flashes. A desire to open up to him and trust him with all the pieces of herself, not just the ones she selects so carefully, not just the pieces she wants him to see. But it is so hard to go back to that place again, to bare herself to anyone who has the power to hurt her in the way Offspring had. She had given him her heart, surrendered it so freely for him to love and protect, to keep safe for always. He had given it back in pieces, brittle fragments until it all sat in her chest again, too shattered to feel anything more than this pain that still whispers warnings in her ears. Still, when that joy rushes into him and he drags her in close, crushes her against his body and presses kisses over every inch of her skin, she knows that it is already too late to guard against him. Knows that he is already under her skin and in her mind or else she wouldn’t have come at all, wouldn’t have claimed this role with him. But she is terrified of what this might mean, too scared to kiss him back, to shower these same affections over him when she has no idea what they mean to him. When she is carefully constructing her own truths out of worst case scenarios so that it won’t hurt so much if they come true. RE: all the weight of my intentions; magnus - magnus - 02-16-2019 I wanna give you wild love, the kind that never slows down I wanna go where the lights burn low and you're only mine RE: all the weight of my intentions; magnus - isle - 02-16-2019
She can tell by the direction of his thoughts, by the way he softens his hold on her, that he has noticed the wariness in her wounded heart. There a is heartbeat, precarious and fragile, where she braces for him to pull away, to withdraw from her and throw up his own cold walls to barricade himself behind. To hide from her and the way she struggles so hard to open up to him, to let him read the stories writ in pain across the surface of her heart. But he only quiets inside, tethers the storm of his emotion so that it is not so quick to batter at her. He softens, slows, and even the heart pounding in his chest and pressed so firmly to the dark of her dappled skin seems to fade to a whisper-beat. His only concern is for her and the wild he’s recognized in the wounds she hides out of view. He cares nothing for his own heart. It is so startling to her that she actually withdraws from him for a moment, steps back so that those wild brown eyes can find the shape of his face and the shade of something more than affection hidden in the back of such a beautiful gaze. She can hear the promises he wants to make, the ones he tries to keep buried - not to hide them from her, but to protect her from what they might make her feel again - and she is at once struck with a feeling so strong it nearly bowls her over. There is a whisper inside her, something that managed to survive the crash of falling out of love, something that whispers and wonders and asks if maybe he is everything she thought she once had. If maybe, he is more. But a whisper, by its nature, is so easy to ignore so she pushes it away again, will let it build into something louder before she chooses to hear it again. Before she lets him see it reflected back at him in the quiet of her eyes. He presses a kiss to her brow, and she can feel him buckling down on everything that swells inside him. All the beautiful turmoil of his golden heart. But she shakes her head at him, something so soft and beautiful creeping in to chase away the tension that had tightened in the hollow of such delicate features. “I like the sound of your soul, Magnus. You don’t have to quiet it for me.” Then she’s slipping back beneath his neck, willing and wanting this time, settling so comfortably against the curve of his chest and the heart beating a greeting against her skin. She nips at his muzzle, so soft and with a smile on those pale, whiskered lips, tugging him back into a soft embrace with his neck slung around her. She lips at his jaw, follows the curve of it all the way to the hollow beside his mouth where she places a tiny little kiss, a promise to try like he is trying. To be as open as she knows how to be. But there are still questions she cannot ask him, things she wonders at but has no words with which to say. Would he ever want to be more than just parents, share more than this mutual love for a life created between them? Or was this enough for him, a strange, unnameable bond between friends turned parents. But the not knowing is dissonance in her heart, a fissure tearing in this new calm she finds curled so contentedly in the warmth of his embrace. So she pushes it away, pushes the questions away. Will pretend for as long as she can that they aren’t answers she needs. RE: all the weight of my intentions; magnus - magnus - 02-16-2019 I wanna give you wild love, the kind that never slows down I wanna go where the lights burn low and you're only mine RE: all the weight of my intentions; magnus - isle - 02-21-2019
At once the world shifts and suddenly it is his heart in her hand and she is stunned, trying so hard to remember how to hold it safe with fingers that shake so badly. It is a gift but she didn’t ask for it, isn’t even sure if she’s ready for it yet. Except that is the nature of things like this, matters of the heart. It is almost never a conscious decision to love, not something that can be so carefully planned to exist at just the right moment. There is always risk, and she can see that he understands that, just as she can see that he is choosing to leap for her anyway. It is a wonder to listen to him now, to listen to the way in which he sees her. The way in which he feels for her. The things he thinks he wants with her and for her, the kind of life he hopes they could have. It both exhilarating and wildly intimidating, something she simultaneously wants to lean into and run from. It has always been her natural inclination to be alone, to trust only in herself, only solitude. She is wild at heart, wild in her soul, but once upon a time someone had asked her to trust him, and she had been too quick to leap. Too quick to fall into something she thought would be endless, forever. She hadn’t even considered preparing for the crash of it, that abrupt, unexpected end. But it had found her anyway. But he seems to know this too - she finds some semblance of her secret truths in the hum of his thoughts - and it is a wonder that this man should already know so well what she does not have the words to say. Except, it isn’t. Not a wonder. He has lived and loved for far longer than she can begin to comprehend, is a master of the mind and hearing the unsaid, the secrets hidden in the backs of her eyes and the tired lines of her guarded face, truths she keeps buried behind other words. She hides, but he knows her anyway. Wants her anyway. ‘You undo me.’ He says, and she closes her eyes against these words that light old fires beneath her skin, words that, when she opens her eyes again to look at him, make those dark eyes burn with wary fire. There is nothing in her that objects when he claims her with lips and teeth, no tightening of muscle to pull away someplace safe and out of reach. But she is slow to reciprocate, some deep down place inside her wondering how far he would go without a word from her to stop. Because she isn’t sure she wants him to stop, isn’t sure anymore what she wants at all. She breathes out hard against him, pushes her nose against his jaw, teeth against the soft hollow beside the corner of his beautiful mouth - an almost kiss but then she pauses, hovers there, “what is it you think you see in me, Magnus?” RE: all the weight of my intentions; magnus - magnus - 02-22-2019 I wanna give you wild love, the kind that never slows down I wanna go where the lights burn low and you're only mine RE: all the weight of my intentions; magnus - isle - 03-31-2019
She is no less overwhelmed in this than she has been with everything else. The weight of these truths, of his thoughts and his heart and his soul bared so willingly to her is more than she is remotely ready for. But she does not shy away from it as she might have when she first came to find him, does not wall off and close herself off so that she can safely disentangle and pull away to a place where he has no weapons with which to wound her. But there is something shifting in her heart, or maybe the heart itself is shifting in her chest. Beating back walls and thawing ice laid over it in the span of so many wounding years - because when he stumbles through his words, staggering and frustrated and so ready to lay himself bare to her, for her, there is a reflex roaring to life inside her. A burning desire to keep him safe, to protect this heart he gives her. And the man who gives it. She is at once somehow hard and soft, fierce in the way she pulls him close to her despite all these broken pieces inside her. In the way she kisses his brow and curls into him, pressing closer when she can feel his mind touch on something with teeth, something that still wounds him after so many years. It is terrifying to feel this way, but she does not feel brave, does not feel strong. It is something much softer in her, something much more than boldness. It is faith. A deep rooted trust she thought she would never find again, would certainly never believe in, not for anyone. Not after the kind of love she had known, had given herself to so wholly, so blindly. Been carved so hollow by. But this is not like that, they are not even comparable, and it is like seeing with new eyes. She kisses his shoulder when he lays his forehead against her neck, bending her dark, delicate body around him in a way that is reflexively protective. It is a thing she does without thought, something her heart demands of her in a way that might frighten her if she weren’t so distracted by the heat of his breath on her skin, by the words he shares directly from an ancient heart. And she thinks she understands. “Because I look and see you, all of you, not just an idea of who I think you might be.” A king, a hero, a friend, a lover. Easy surface things with so much more in the depths below, things too much and too hard to put into words, too impossible to share. “You aren’t broken.” She says, whispers, and it feels like a confession of what she feels but does not say, of how he is so beautiful to her in all of these unfathomable depths that he lays so bare for her. There is no part of him that she does not love. RE: all the weight of my intentions; magnus - magnus - 04-01-2019 I wanna give you wild love, the kind that never slows down I wanna go where the lights burn low and you're only mine |