making every nerve quiver; any

[Spear + Spark]

They chase one another in and out of the steam.

They leap over the crisscrossed streams of lava.

Their laughter tumbles after them, boisterous and bold - like they are.

Eventually the games of chase and tag cease, and not necessarily because they have exhausted themselves so thoroughly as to be in need of a nap. They think back to how the black mare scolded them with her eyes, and though they tell themselves it is only because she is jealous of the fact that they are Offspring’s children from a mare that is not his beloved Isle, it is the first time they have ever encountered something other than a smile from the more adult horses amongst them. Just remembering that look kills their play and they stop beside the spring, cooling their feathered legs in it as they bend their heads close together. If they talk, it is in hushed murmurs that only the two of them can hear.

Then there is quiet, and Spark rests her black-capped head on her brother’s broadening back. Each of them is growing up, faster than they care to think about. What will happen when Spear is a stallion and Spark is a mare? Neither of them makes mention of it, of if there will still be time to touch their noses together just breathing one another’s scent in and nothing else, because the world fell away when it was just the two of them, like it has always been. Neither of them wants to think that there may come a time when they will not bring their heads close, rub their faces together, or throw a shoulder into the other’s side in careless play. Such thoughts are too grown up for them, and they are still just children…

Spear snorts; Spark has nipped as his muzzle and spun away on a quick heel to outrun him amongst the burning lava beds. He gives chase to her, trying to catch her pale tail in his teeth - if he can, he’ll tug her to a stop then deliver a nip of his own to her flank. Their games will continue, and thoughts of the scolding black mare fade to the back of their minds; she is not their mother, never will be, and no one else seems to mind the fact that they are children and given much to flights of fancy as they leap and run about. Maybe it is because their laughter is infectious, happy even, in a way that few have been lately.

Spear & Spark

[magnus]

— find what you love and let it kill you —

This land is beautiful, but it is foreign, and Magnus finds he had not acclimated to it—not yet.

The humidity reminds him of the Jungle with each breath, the air thick and hot in his throat. It brought back a flood of memories of his youth, the wildness rattling his pulse so that he felt the need to run until he no longer could, until his legs trembled and his breath came out in swallowing gasps. But, even so, this was not the Jungle. The air had the bite of sulphur in it, the intensity depending on where you stood. The land was wild, but not with tangles vines and crying wildcats. It was wild with rivulets of magma that carved out their own paths; it was wild when the ocean grew restless and crashed along its shores. It was beautiful, chaotic—and, in time, Magnus is sure he will grow to love it as he has loved all of his homes.

But not yet. It is not home just yet.

Still, that does not stop him from learning the boundaries of the new land, of beginning to make a habit of walking the expanse of it. In many ways, the journey takes more of a toll than the daily trip he made around the Gates, where the landscape was less demanding, the radius shorter. But, here, he feels that they are more secluded, their borders safer. While he liked to walk the entire scope of the land, he concentrated his day mostly on the piece closest to the meadow where visitors were more likely to arrive.

It is during these travels that he sees the pair that he had spotted at the meeting, clearly stamped with at least some of Offspring’s looks, and he alters course to go near them. They were clearly in play, their brash behavior more evidence of their youth than even the coltish proportions of their bodies, and he found himself smiling, scarred lips rising crookedly in amusement. It made Tephra feel even more of a home to witness their games and laughter ringing through the land and putting his troubled heart at ease.

Perhaps, they would be okay after all.

He does not interrupt them—not yet. Instead he places himself off to an angle, head leg gently cocking as his tail flicked at his side. In time, perhaps they would notice the golden soldier observing them with a kind gaze—perhaps they wouldn’t. Either way, he was content to watch over them casually, gaze flicking every so often toward the border and the surrounding area to ensure that they were indeed safe at home.

magnus