welcome to my dark side. [open]

[magnus]

I wanna give you wild love, the kind that never slows down
I wanna take you high up let our hearts be the only sound

His gaze is interrupted by the dual-colored stallion. He has no way of knowing that he is standing before someone who was, arguably, just as tied to his father’s kingdom as his father. He has no idea of knowing the accomplishments tied to the man, the magic, the legends. All he knows is the amused glint in his eye, the warning that he seems to enjoy giving a little too much. She will chew you up and spit you out, son. Magnus ink-dipped eyes flick forward and he cannot stop the roguish grin that grows.

“I look forward to it.”

He’s never been intimidated by a challenge or put-off by a sharp-tongued woman and he gives the other a distracted dip of a head in farewell before he turns his gold-flecked gaze onto the woman in question. When Ilma arrives, he gives her a curve of lip in greeting before training his attention on the predatory mare who stands before him, snappish and distressed. She reminds him of a feral animal, far more feral than the practically domesticated souls here, and he cannot ignore the intrigue that grows in his chest.

At her name, he takes it and tucks it away for a moment, sitting quietly as she works through whatever range of emotions she is feeling, content to simply be there in the moment and not force her any further in the conversation than she wanted to go. When she answers Ilma, he ponders the names for a moment, wondering at the familiarity of her grandfather’s name but setting it aside for another day. Had he been alive when Set made his considerable mark on Beqanna history, he may have reacted differently, but there are instead large gaps in his knowledge, entire decades of nothing but darkness.

It does you no good to be as old as he is when so much of it was spent underwater.

“Not many make their way to the field in the dead of night,” he muses softly, whiskey voice humming in his throat as he considers her. In truth, he had been here by accident alone—just another night when sleep eluded him. The sweat on his neck was from more than just the run toward her, the golden stallion having been trying to outrun his demons all night. “Is there something I,” he pauses here, glancing toward the white mare who had joined them and correcting himself, “something that we can help you with?”

He has no idea if she just needs directions, if she wants a home, or something else entirely.

But he intends to stay and find out.

I wanna go where the lights burn low and you're only mine