The field does not exactly teem with life, but it simmers with it. Watching, on the outskirts, Magnus can see the way life toys with the edges here, newcomer coming more steadily, the other lands rising to shake the dust from their coats as they come and present their offerings. He has come to grow content with his new routine, has come to accept it as normal, the way it had once been normal for him to come here with words of the Gates and its quiet paradise on his tongue. In many ways, his offering of Tephra is more natural than the one of the Gates. He had never belonged there, not truly, but the land had come to belong to him. He had grown to love its peace, its silence. He had come to love its quiet strength.
Tephra though. Oh, Tephra was wild. It was overgrown in areas, shadowed in others. The volcano jutted up from the skyline in all of its majestic glory, the fog curling around its base. The soil was rich and the vegetation lush; even with sulphur in the air and magma running fingers throughout the land, it was the same kind of paradise as the jungle had once been: beautiful, but dangerous. Stunning, but fatal.
And so, when he sees her, dual-colored eyes fierce and watches the golden hued stallion approach, he cannot help but make his way toward her, curiosity nipping at his heels as he came to a stop. “Hello,” he offered, his voice whiskey and fire. “It is a lovely night.” His mane was wild, tangled, damp from the rain, but his gold-flecked eyes were electric, alive with the possibility of the storm brewing in their depths. “My name is Magnus.” He dipped his head toward both, scarred mouth lifting into a crooked grin.
magnus
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