; it was but a dream within a dream (magnus)

[magnus]

— find what you love and let it kill you —

He laughed at her noncommittal answer—knowing that the one forming in his own mind was similar.

It was difficult, even with someone you felt so comfortable around, to re-open fresh wounds. He shifted slightly as he laughed, the sound husky and warm but tinged with a sorrow he could not beat back entirely. Neither one of them could pretend forever that this was the same as it was years ago. Neither of them could pretend that they were simply running into each other after a brief, short-lived absence.

Life had not been that kind to either of them—not really.

So, perhaps, he was the first to give when she asked the questions and his voice dropped a little. “Time has been something to me,” he mused, glancing down at her. “I suppose when death calls you to her for a visit that aging slows.” He had no way of knowing if she knew of his first death—if she had been there to say goodbye after Trashlip had crushed his skull and then Joelle’s. Had she mourned? Had she known?

He didn’t know, and his eyes traced over her expression for a clue before he shrugged. “Still, it is difficult to complain when it has been decades since your birth and you do not look it.” He knew full well that youth still flushed his cheeks and that his body was still muscular and fit. Despite the scars that criss-crossed around his chest and down his shoulders, despite the battles he had seen, he still looked young.

“Life has certainly been different than we thought it would, hasn’t it, Hybris?”

And this time, it was impossible to miss the sadness that etched alongside his mouth and the sorrow that pooled in his eyes. It was impossible to miss the weight that settled along his shoulders. It just was.

magnus