There is something about her that screams of pain, of armor and distrust. It reminds him of Isle. It reminds him of himself and stirs something like empathy in his belly. She is not unkind but neither is she overly warm, and he takes that into mind. Settling into a more comfortable position, still breathing heavily from his run, he angles his head slightly, watching as she fidgets just barely, the energy trapped beneath the surface of her. There is the barest raising of brows at her formal greeting, the hint of a crooked smile teasing the corner of his lacerated lips. “What a pleasure to meet you, Sabra.”
He doesn’t answer her question, at least not immediately, but instead turns his gold-flecked gaze to the horizon of the meadow, contemplating for a moment as a muscle jumps in his jaw. “This is one of the few places in Beqanna that remain from my youth,” he says suddenly. “I feel like a child here sometimes. I can’t decide if I like the feeling; nostalgia cuts both ways. Memories can be both sweet and burn painful.”
A husky laugh as he shakes his head, rolling his shoulders. Magnus draws his gaze back to her, studying her face for a moment. “I suppose I am contemplative today, Sabra.” Perhaps it was more than she had bargained for when she had asked him how he was doing, but Magnus had never been afraid of being vulnerable, of being honest. “As fast as I run, I can’t always outrun my demons.”
A frown briefly crosses his face, his neck still gleaming with sweat.
“But that wasn’t exactly what you asked, was it?” Another flash of teeth, a hint of self-self-detracting humor touching his features. “I am doing well. What brings you to the meadow today?”
MAGNUS | I don't belong to anyone, but everybody knows my name
@[Sabra]
![[Image: gqYjsHr.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/KjqNDKxc/gqYjsHr.png)