here it comes without warning; magnus

[magnus]

— find what you love and let it kill you —

It was easier to deal with everything that had happened when he viewed it as second chance.

It had first felt like an enormous weight, pressing down on his shoulders, piercing his chest. It had been a catalyst for all the years of regret and guilt, everything he knew that he had done wrong. He had left his home of the Gates; he had not been there when the earth shook and the heavens cracked open. He had not been there when they had all woken up to guide them down the mountain—to ensure their safety.

These are the things that he carries like stones in his chest. These are the things that weighed him down as he had found his way slowly down the craggy slopes and made his way into the meadow for the first time.  

But they had, eventually, dissipated and had been replaced with some different—something foreign and familiar all at once. Purpose. Purpose to create the sanctuary that he had always dreamt about. The place of peace and safety he had wanted for the Gates. It struck at him, and he carried it closely to his chest as he had wandered the meadow, the forest, the field until his limbs ached. Until sweat had darkened his coat, until exhaustion blurred the edge of the vision. It forced him to slow his pace, to rest.

Still, though he had slowed to a walk, he still continued to move. He made his way around the edges of the forest, appreciating the slight breeze as it picked up his mane from his neck, whispering down the heated flesh. He exhaled slowly, gaze turning slowly toward the multi-colored mare nearby. Altering his path just slightly, he made his way toward her, expression neutral and warm. “Hello there,” he greeted casually, tilting his head slightly, crooked smile lifting in the corners. “How are you doing?”

As he came to a stop, he glanced over her quickly, scanning for any obvious injuries.

“My name is Magnus.”

magnus