anyone;

[magnus]

you and I both know that the house is haunted
and you and I both know that the ghost is me

Despite the attack, the Gates still maintains an open border policy. While it is considered polite to wait there, Magnus considers it more of a courtesy than anything (although, perhaps, Mast would disagree with him). The Gates was a haven, a sanctuary, and it did not require blood to enter. Still, he recognizes that she is being polite when he sees the scaled-mare come to the border and then pause. He had been doing his usual patrol of the kingdom when she had arrived, this time from the air, and he altered his course to where she stood. His descent was smooth—far smoother than his early flights—and he lands quietly.

“Hello,” he greets in honey-whiskey tones, his voice husky and deep. Walking the final few feet toward her, he takes the seconds to observe her. She seemed quiet, shy, and perhaps nervous, although he chalked that up to her being in a new place—all things that contradicted the reptilian nature of her appearance. Magnus had learned a long time ago though that appearance did not matter much. He had seen the sweetest smiles given by the most vicious killers and seen the kindest hearts hiding behind scarred lips.

When he stops, he drops his wide, handsome head into a more formal nod, his bearing distinctly militaristic. “My name is Magnus.” His gaze finds her own, and he holds it steady, the question hanging in the air between them before he finally formed it with words. “Is there anything that I can do for you?” She could very well be a diplomat visiting from another kingdom (they had started to receive those lately) or simply a mare looking for a home. He had seen both and was equipped to handle either.

MAGNUS

once general. once lord. once king.