love comes slow and it goes so fast; nayl

[magnus]

magnus

howling ghosts, they reappear
in mountains that are stacked with fear

“Oh, I somehow doubt that you are boring, Nayl, but who knows? Perhaps you could surprise me.” His voice is rich and deep, striped with good humor as he considers her. She may not have lived the lifetimes that he has, she may not have experienced death, but he knew someone who had good stories when he saw them. So he purses his lips and thinks, turning his head out toward the ocean that washes up on the shore, thinking as the waves come crashing down, their repetitive motion somehow soothing.

Some of his worst memories had been on the beach, the saltwater a familiar bite in his mouth. It was difficult to look out into the belly of the ocean and not think of it as a graveyard, to not feel a morbid call back to it, but he was learning to appreciate it. He often wandered out into the waves of Tephra now, letting the tide rise up around him and lick salty tendrils up over his back. He would overcome this fear.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, he glances back at Nayl and considers her, a studious ferocity in his gold-flecked eyes before he shrugs. “Tell me of your happiest memory. Something that always brings a smile to your face.” They have talked about enough of the serious and the depressed; they deserved to keep the lightheartedness of the conversation, they deserved to have a brief moment of joy in their lives.

So he waits patiently, ink-dipped ear flicking forward amongst the tangles and mess of his forelock. He can only imagine the stories that warm her heart and the things that bring laughter to her eyes. If he can extend this moment in the sun, keep her shield down, then he will gladly do whatever it takes.

but you're a king and I'm a lionheart