Lead to the river [Magnus]

[magnus]

— find what you love and let it kill you —

He is silent as the other tells his story, gold-flecked eyes steely in thought.

Magnus knew better than most how sometimes your path twisted beneath you—how even the most well meaning of intentions could curve dangerously in your hand. He had been there before, watching things become warped with time no matter how hard he fought to keep them straight. And he certainly was not in any place to throw the first stone. He had left his kingdom when the crown was still on his head. He had fought in wars, in raids. He had battled and killed—and liked it. Liked the rush of blood on his hands.

So he exhales slowly when Nymphetamine finally finishes, not smiling but not casting the other away either. “That is quite the story,” he finally offered, whiskey-voice even as he met the other’s gaze. “I am sorry to hear that a stallion under the Gates’ banner behaved in such a manner.” He had not known Rapscallion during his time in the Gates so he could not vouch for the man’s intentions or loyalty, but he certainly wouldn’t condone his actions. War called for ugly behavior, but it didn’t make it right.

He finally shook his head. “Plans do not always go as planned,” he finally offered, after several moments of considering his words. Rolling his shoulders he lifted his gaze to look around them, at all of the crowds gathering and milling about, so many without a home to call their own. So many without a place to go to rest their head. “I am glad to know that you and your family are safe, Nymphetamine.” He looked the other in the eye, holding the gaze steady for several moments. “It’s more than many could ask for.”

Releasing his anger, Magnus relaxed slightly, not fully trusting the other but willing to give him a second chance. “Have they managed to make it through,” he motioned around them, “all of this unscathed?”

magnus