i don't have a choice, but i'd still choose you. || magnus

[Ellyse]

your mouth is poison, your mouth is wine. i don't love you, but i always will.

    The sun is overbearing, its unabashed sheen of light blinding to the eye and unforgiving to the skin – and still, beneath it she remains, punishing herself with its white-hot heat. The atmosphere was beginning to shift, as the humidity of midday no longer lingers long after the sun had set beyond the brightly painted horizon, leaving a gentle and soothing breeze in its wake. The volcanic mountain rumbles and stirs beneath the surface of fallen ash, its weaving and winding streams of oozing lava exuding a scalding heat as it slowly travels along. Long, wavering stalks of grain burst through the fertile soil many months ago, once vibrant in color, now dry and painted as gold as the sun itself. It gently caresses the length of her legs, brushing against her skin the way a wanton lover might do, but she does not pay it any mind.
 
   A long, weary sigh echoes, or at least it seems to. The sound of rustling wheat is almost deafening, and she succumbs to the white noise, her heavy lashes and eyelids hiding her hazel eyes from the merciless light. The once perfectly preened white feathers flutter as the soft updraft of air weaves its way beneath her wings, stirring her from her silent reverie. Restless. She had become restless, longing for something more than the stagnant, hot heat and long, dull hours wasted in silent thought. She was anything but diplomatic – her sharp wit and biting tongue would hardly forge alliances, and so she shied away from the idea of extending herself beyond the border, but she was undeniably bored and growing agitated with her own indolence.
 
   The time had come to rise from the ashes; to move away from the shadows. She had grown tired of her own complacency and in turn, she had grown irate with the contentment of others. There was much to be done, and too much time had gone by. Finally, her long, fluid legs shift, carrying her forward, her bright hazel eyes searching the wavering horizon for a familiar face. Her stomach felt uncomfortably tight and taut, but there was no use in hiding away from the painful and obvious fissure that had grown and festered between she and her superior (though he had never treated her as anything but her equal). She could not elude his presence for much longer, and though she had hidden away to shield her own heart, to fortify it and calcify it, she knew it would do her no good.
 
   He was the father of her children; one of her closest companions.
   One of the few who not only understood her, but accepted her, wholly.
 
   She could not allow her heart to get in the way any longer. It was foolish, to allow herself to become so vulnerable, to permit her heart to become so weak when she had known all too well that his own was fragmented and defective. It had been a fools’ errand, but she had brought it all unto herself. Perhaps that is what infuriates her most – but the rage never lingered long. Without him, she would not have any stability at all. Without him, she would not have her daughter or son, a thought she simply cannot bear to even entertain.
 
   Quietly, gently, her shoulder brushes against his, her hazel eyes averting away from his own as her gaze peers across the plain. A soft sigh passes her whiskered lips, her wings tightly coiled to her sides as the feathers brush gently against the solid mass of his muscled physique.
 
   ”Tell me. Alliances – have we forged any?” Ellyse murmurs, her voice meant only for him. ”I would like to assemble some semblance of an army, Magnus. With alliances, come enemies. We need to be more prepared, and I need to know what I have to work with. Perhaps I can set up mock battles; perhaps teach the basic principles of battle. What are your thoughts?”

Ellyse

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