Firestarters always get the burns | Magnus

[Ilma]

Ilma

And there's a lesson waiting to be learned
the firestarters always get the burns
and the good guys never get the girl

She doesn't really know what she's looking for when she heads out - the meadow contained more horses than when the plague first struck, sure; company she will not lack even in the relatively isolated Silver Cove, because others have found their way into the Sanctuary. Maybe she just needs an unfamiliar face? No - she needs a break from helpless looks, she thinks then. She loves to guide home whoever she finds that may be in need of protection, but some days, that's just not what you need for yourself.

West, then, she flies.

She briefly considers Nerine, to check up on Sabra, Castile an Miela. But while she nears the land, the orange glow on the left is something that catches her eye - curiosity - and she changes direction. Just a little further. Yes, perhaps she just needed to check up on a friend; the only one she could think of right now who might not be in need of help, but might simply appreciate company.

She lands just near the border, eyeing the ash-filled land. Some patches are cleaner than others, she notes now. Perhaps the wind blows more freely there. Perhaps the wind is more steady here and blows the most of the volcano's clouds to sea.

She wonders if any of the islands off-coast ever have troubles, or if the Taiga does.

The white mare folds her light-made wings back, sniffs the air. It's harder for her to catch scents here, and most of them are mingled with the sulfur anyway.

A soft snort and a bit of a frown. She can't really distinguish if he's even here - perhaps she should have searched the Field, first.

and shooting stars cannot fix the world

@[Magnus] Soooo I finally made a starter and here it is, being all over the place!

[magnus]

although this world is made of fearsome beasts that bark and bite
we were born to put these creatures through one hell of a fight

Tephra has relaxed into a state of ease, despite the troubles that stir in Beqanna.

They remain safe, cloaked in protection, and he is—not for the first time—grateful for Warrick and the sacrifices he has made to bring about such stability. Magnus does not worry as much about venturing forth and should the disease come to him, then he is prepared to meet it. (He already carries it. It brews in his veins and yet he knows nothing—has no idea that he is a carrier and a danger to anyone he meets.)

Still, the field has been quiet and although he makes regular trips to it, he also spends time in his ashen home. He walks the borders, checks on the residents, and keeps an eye on the coming and goings. They have an open border policy—have always had such a thing—but that does not mean he does not watch.

That he does not make sure danger does not blow across the borders when he is not looking.

So it only takes a few minutes before he sees Ilma standing at the border, her sunshine wings folding across her back, and her face pleasant as she waits. It has been a long time since he has seen the diplomat from the Sanctuary, and a while further since they have crossed each other in the field, and he grins as he makes his way toward her, his smile crooked and genuine. “Ilma,” he greets in whiskey tones, his handsome head nodding as he stops. “It’s been a while since I’ve had the pleasure of your company.”

He takes a step back, gesturing her forward and further into the tropical kingdom.

“To what do I owe the pleasure today? Is there something I can help you with?”

magnus

@[Ilma]

[Ilma]

Ilma

And there's a lesson waiting to be learned
the firestarters always get the burns
and the good guys never get the girl

It's almost ironic, the way the west is the hottest place in Beqanna, and not the south like one might expect (considering the north is coldest). Perhaps it's simply the volcano providing an unexpected source for heat; whatever the case, however much the white mare would set hoof here - she's quite sure she belongs elsewhere.

It doesn't mean that she could not visit, however. Especially on a day where she finds herself just a little... purposeless. Both the queens have settled the East quite quickly, and though Ilma is still the ambassador of the kingdom, there's also Kensa, Litotes and Yidhra, and she doesn't feel like she has done enough to keep earning her title currently. That little bit of self-doubt had eventually fuelled her wings today, and she'd ended up here, without really having a plan in her mind of what she's supposed to do.

Magnus however, spies her rather quickly. Either due to her white coat and lit-up wings or perhaps just because he watches the border - today, it doesn't matter. Ilma notes the ashen way he talks, reminding her of comfortable days in the field, a place where one might say she does belong. She dips her head in greeting, then follows him in, having waited out of courtesy even though one might have assumed she would be welcomed. If anyone new lived here, they might have found it rather impolite of her if she just walked in, after all.

"Too long, I'd think, but surely you'll have seen others from the Cove pass by." She smiles, he would know the east would not forget their allies out west, she thinks. Walking up to him, she answers his latest question more genuinely; not bothered by the fact that she didn't really come for anything at the moment. "Just visiting a friend," she gives him, specifically vague just because she feels like it. Ah, well - it's not everyday she finds herself with pleasant company.

and shooting stars cannot fix the world

@[magnus]

[magnus]

although this world is made of fearsome beasts that bark and bite
we were born to put these creatures through one hell of a fight

Magnus is made for the heat.

He was never one to enjoy the tundra or seek out the coldest parts of Beqanna. From his birth, deep in the jungle amongst the vine and the tangled roots, he has been made for the warmth and the humidity. Although he left to live in various places in the Beqanna of old (the Chamber, the Gates, the Dale, and even the Falls for a spell), he was always most comfortable when in tropical climates—which is perhaps why he fell so deeply in love with Tephra when the faeries first guided him to its doorstep.

His coat is thin, even in the middle of winter, sleek and as slick as a seal, and even when the heat darkens it with sweat, he is never uncomfortable. It makes trips to other lands and the field less comfortable, but he just grits his teeth and gets through it—and then sighs a breath of relief when he is home. It doesn’t always cross his mind that others may not feel the same way. That the same heat that he finds to be so welcoming they may view as oppressive, and he has long since gotten used to the bitter bite of sulphur.

He simply can’t imagine viewing this land as anything less than perfect.

Still, he doesn’t think of such things when his gold-flecked eyes alight on her. Instead he just gives an easy, charming smile. “We have been graced with several members of the Sanctuary over the past few months.” He continues to walk forward into the heart of Tephra, grinning when she reveals that she was just here to visit. “It is not often that I get someone coming to see me,” he answers honestly. Wearing the crown was often a grueling, exhausting thing. It was difficult to not feel reduce to nothing but it.

“Would you like to travel down to the beach? It’s beautiful this time of day.”

magnus

@[Ilma]

[Ilma]

Ilma

And there's a lesson waiting to be learned
the firestarters always get the burns
and the good guys never get the girl

There are, of course, good things to find in any land. The volcano in itself reminds the white mare of the Hyaline she left; a place with the best views, soaring on the wind to find the light reflected on the lake calling her home. This mountain, however, has a light of it’s own, and if it weren’t for the ashes constantly greying her white coat, if it weren’t for the small particles and sulfur biting into her lungs if she breaths too deeply, this would be a good home for her, too.

But the beach might be better, indeed.

”I’d love to,” the sunlight-winged mare agrees. She offers the buckskin male a smile. ”I could visit some more if you need more time away. Wearing a crown is exhausting sometimes, I believe.” she tells him- at least, she knows how Kagerus feels confined, she remember Solace telling her that should something happen, could she please take over - as if perhaps they’d thought of running away. Now, Ilma was secretly glad that they both had stayed, so she did not have to. But she was well aware of the mountain of duty one could feel under the weight of a crown, by now. It came from standing so close to friends who did.

Looking to steer the subject away from politics, her orange-amber eyes meet with her friend from the Field. ”What else don’t I know about Tephra yet? I know the volcano is it’s most known structure, but I’m afraid I know no other secrets about this place. I’m sure you do, though.” He had lived here long enough to know all the secret spots, Ilma thinks. Perhaps, if she hadn’t moved to the Cove so recently, she could have showed him a few more beautiful spots of her own home. But she hadn’t discovered all of them yet - and the secret spots of Hyaline were tainted with memories she would not like to share with another male friend just yet.

and shooting stars cannot fix the world

@[magnus]

[magnus]

although this world is made of fearsome beasts that bark and bite
we were born to put these creatures through one hell of a fight

She is kind and he is grateful for it—grateful for the soft edges of her that make the conversation pleasant and easy. He smile is lopsided and gentle as he considers her, nodding at her offer. “I could always use the company of a good friend,” he rolls a scarred shoulder. “I have gotten used to the weight of it.” It is not the first or even the second time that he has worn the crown, let alone sat in a position of power in a kingdom. He was raised for it, trained from his very first breath. It was expected of him.

Still, it doesn’t mean that he hasn’t resented it before, that he hasn’t even turned from it.

But, centuries have passed and his back has strengthened.

The crown is no longer enough to bend his neck.

But she turns from the topic of politics and he doesn’t fight her on it—doesn’t struggle to stay on a topic that he has done nothing but talk about since his birth. Instead, she asks him questions about his home and his eyes light up, the pride and the joy clear on his handsome face. “You’ve come at a wonderful time if you are looking for some of Tephra’s secrets.” Something like mischief crosses his features.

He angles his head, a corner of his lip quirking.

“Follow me.”

And with a faint, whiskey-laced laugh rippling out from him, he begins to trot ahead, his smoke-dipped legs eating up the earth easily. His muscles are taut beneath his coat, his motions joyful. He looks over his head to make sure that she’s following, to make sure she’s keeping up, before he turns his gaze before him and plunges onward into the thicker vegetation, the path twisting and winding and beautiful.

magnus

@[Ilma]

[Ilma]

Ilma

And there's a lesson waiting to be learned
the firestarters always get the burns
and the good guys never get the girl

Magnus is very intriguing. He may not think he looks like much, but honestly she was never one to fall for magical attributes. His skin has a relatively unique tint, where she has met all kinds of horses, somehow there weren’t many buckskins between them. Besides – there’s something to his mischievousness, and she wouldn’t want to miss it for the world. She might even choose to forget about the rest of the world instead, and just stay where life was easy and joyful.

Of course, that is not a thought she currently would share with him. She knows she belongs out there, not here, but she could certainly pretend, for a day. So instead, when he agrees to show her something about Tephra, she lets him lead and therefore follows with a pleasant smile on her face – enjoying his company, but perhaps also the warmth that welcomes them, and which paints intricate darker patterns on the light brown skin, and doesn’t mind seeing him move about so easily on the rocks either -

Nevertheless, she’d better keep up, and when she can’t find her way between gaps that Magnus had somehow been able to jump, she cheats a little with the use of her wings, catching up the last bit easily with a quick glide and a gleam in her eye, right before he ducks into the vegetation. ”Rocks and steep slopes aren’t the problem for me.” she laughs, then follows the winding trail wherever it goes, wondering what’s so secretly stashed away out here.

and shooting stars cannot fix the world

@[magnus]

[magnus]

although this world is made of fearsome beasts that bark and bite
we were born to put these creatures through one hell of a fight

She doesn’t hesitate to follow, doesn’t balk at the invitation, and that is enough to put an even larger gleam in his eye—something twisting and unreadable that turns into a frown of concentration as he continues to barrel through the familiar paths of his volcanic home. He has long since grown used to the deceptive turns of this way, the way it grows thicker in some spots and then impossibly thinner. It reminds him always of his jungle birth home, where the vines and the trees often grew so close together that you could barely move through them; he had grown up learning how to navigate such harrowing lands.

So this is familiar to him and he breathes it in deep, laughing as she uses her wings to her advantage.

“You are much better with those than I ever was,” he laughs over his shoulder, his voice broken with his breathing but steady. “I was downright clumsy.” He still remembers those few months—years—where he had worn the eagle wings granted to him from the Gates. He had spent night after night training with them, trying to become familiar with the extra bulk and the way it had shifted his own internal center of gravity. He had fought against them and struggled. Eventually, they had become second nature, but he doesn’t deny the fact that he had been relieved when they had finally been removed.

Still, she looks graceful with them and he grins, smile lopsided, as he finally slows to a stop. His coat has darkened to crushed gold, the thin skin around his nose slick with sweat, but his eyes are bright. “We’re almost there,” he says quietly, beckoning her forth and then through an overhang of trees and branches. It scratches lightly as he steps through it and he does his best to lift it so she can go through.

When he finally turns his head, he is thrilled to see that the grove is as he had imagined.

The flowers bloom thick so that the air is perfumed with them, the green leaves on the trees glossy. All of his home is beautiful, but this little section is one of his favorites. You can see peeks of the ocean from parts of it, the crash of waves only barely muted, and the flowers are vibrant, the petals a dizzying array of colors. It has always taken his breath away, and it doesn’t stop now. He drags his eyes away from it to look to Ilma, the smile still shadowing around his mouth. “So, what do you think?”

magnus

@[Ilma]

[Ilma]

Ilma

And there's a lesson waiting to be learned
the firestarters always get the burns
and the good guys never get the girl

The volcanic heat is perhaps more sulfuric than any jungle, but Ilma never experienced that difference. The path that the buckskin male now follows, makes her wonder about such a place - perhaps Kagerus might have mentioned one, from before the… Reckoning, that’s the word. Now that she’s dealing with a shift of lands caused by the rise of Pangea and the subsequent Plague, the Andalusian mare would wonder how often these lands might change. Perhaps in five more years or even if the faeries find a cure for the Plague, things could be different once more.

But although speculating about the future is tempting, she finds that she is drawn back to the here and now just as easily. Or perhaps it’s the man’s voice, or even just the way he looks at her. Whatever the case, she is happy to have him as a distraction, and she chuckles at his mentioning of wings on him. ”I doubt I could ever imagine you clumsy. Though, I must admit I think the ground suits you just as well.” Some horses just didn’t feel right, with wings, she thinks. Perhaps it was a more grounded, steady personality on them that made flight less suiting. But she was born with hers, albeit not these wings exactly, so his compliments don’t entirely hit their mark. Not that she doesn’t appreciate it, but she really thinks nothing much of flying. If anything, it feels like cheating, half of the time.

Then, they finally reach their destination. Following the stallion through the last of the jungle-like growth, she stops in her tracks there, just taking it all in. ”It’s beautiful. Look at all the colours!” Only then she releases a breath she didn’t know she had been holding, and carefully steps forward to examine the flowers, smelling them and admiring the different shapes of every plant.

and shooting stars cannot fix the world

[magnus]

He’s never chosen to share this particular spot with anyone before—perhaps because no one has asked or perhaps because it’s always felt like a secluded paradise. Somewhere calm and quiet and entirely his own. Somewhere he can retreat when the pressures of the outside world are too much—when he can feel the edges of himself begin to grow hazy with the stress and the burden of it all. This becomes a place where he can finally drop such weight, place the armor down for just a second so that he can simply breathe.

But he finds that he does not mind having her here with him.

Does not mind sharing this paradise with her.

He watches quietly as she takes it all in, her exclamation causing his crooked smile to grow just a little wider on the edges. “Once you get past the sulphur, there’s quite a lot to enjoy about Tephra,” he teases, humor warming the masculine angles of his face. He’s well aware that others may not appreciate the bitter bite in the air or heaviness of the humidity, but he’s not able to see anything but this: the beauty it births.

He falls silent again though, content to let her take it all in, moving between the flowers, that rise up from the earth and drape from the branches above them. The foliage is diverse here, the rich soil producing a perfect mixture—exactly what was needed to create a greenhouse, a bouquet of the exotic.

“What is your favorite place in your home?” he asks quietly, angling his head to the side.

He’s never spent much time in Hyaline, or the Cove, but he cannot imagine that a mare like Ilma would spend too much time in either if she did not find them beautiful and pleasing in their own right.

MAGNUS | I don't belong to anyone, but everybody knows my name