[open] Between two memories

[magnus]

magnus

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

The path from Tephra to the field is a well-worn one for Magnus, although his preferred path has become slightly dusty and overgrown with disuse. Still, it is easy for the golden stallion to find it once more, crossing over the lava and the streams, moving through the bramble and the foliage until the tropical bleeds away. It is a routine path, a walk he has done dozens and dozens of times before, and there should be no joy in it, but there is. Magnus has always loved to lose himself in work. He has always loved to take the time to contribute to whatever land he called home. He liked to recruit and patrol and greet.

It was part of his kingdom upbringing—

But more than that, it was, in many ways, a method for him to atone.

For all of his sins, all of his shortcomings.

Of all such duties though, Magnus has always liked recruiting. It was a responsibility and an honor that he did not take lightly. Souls came to the field when they wanted a home—when they wanted a purpose or a place to call their own or just a sanctuary. Getting to come alongside them and provide that, or guide them elsewhere if that’s what they truly needed, was always something that he enjoyed. He always would.

So joy strikes his well-worn heart today as he picks his way through the trail and to the field.

When he arrives, he breathes in the winter air, exhaling with a crooked smile. It’s then that he sees her approaching, something in her step speaking to familiarity. He tilts his head, but he cannot place her. After watching for a moment, he begins to make his way toward her, his steps casual, the sunbleached edges of his tail flicking at his scarred haunches. He, however, is not the only old soul to haunt the field today, and he smiles as Brennen approaches first. The Tundra man is not an entirely unfamiliar sight to him, and he nods in greeting as he comes to a stop, dipping his heavy-jawed head toward the mare in question.

“And I’m Magnus.” A pause as he considers her, roguish grin tilting his lips.

“What brings you to the field on this fine winter morning?”

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