Jail Bird {ANY}

[magnus]

we all carry these things that no one else can see
they hold us down like anchors; they drown us out at sea

Throughout his life, Magnus has seen many things—life, war, peace, love, and even death. He had fallen into the graveyard of saltwater and corroded corpses and then pulled back from its brink. But even he had not seen a zebra, and he was not anything if not a curious stallion. So he did not try to pretend that he was not interested and did not feign apathy. Instead he walked up to the pair with gold-flecked eyes wide and his smile faint, the edges of his lacerated lips just barely beginning to pull up in the corners.

“Hello to you both,” he said quietly as he came to a stop, rounding out the trio. Dipping his gold and obsidian head in a polite nod, he met each of their gazes for a moment before settling on the mare in question. “My name is Magnus.” In years past, that name might have meant something, but he knew that it was nothing but a name anymore—lost to the winds of change and time. Not that he minded. On the contrary, he rather enjoyed the anonymity it afforded him. There was peace in settling into the unknown.

Rolling his shoulders to ease the ache in his joints, he relaxed (as much as he could). “I have never seen anyone like you,” he admitted, his voice soft and confessional as he looked up from beneath the ink of his tangled forelock. “What is your name?” And with that, he went silent, watching with bruised gold eyes,

MAGNUS

once general. once lord. once king.