nothing like a little fear to make a paper man crumble; magnus

[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

The days have grown quiet, the land once more settling into itself.

He remembers these moments after war, after the Reckoning. He remembers what it means to find peace in the aftermath when the echoes of it still sing around you. He tilts his head back and breathes the sulphur and the ash in deep, letting it settle into his lungs as he looks around them, watching the land unfold. Tephra was still standing. Sickness touches her borders. Illness even has found its way inside, but she is still standing, and he has no intention of letting her fall before those with other intentions.

Magnus shakes the dust from his golden coat, the scars visible beneath the warm light of day.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the mare beginning to materialize, her body drawing together in the corners of his home. Recognition strikes in his mind, and he recalls their time together, the simple sweetness of chasing one another down the sandy beaches, her flitting around his head, driving him faster and faster forward. It is enough to warm his features, crooked smile beginning to curve his lacerated lips, gold-flecked eyes softening as he turns a wild head in her direction.

The journey to her is short and he arrives quickly, not bothering to hide the pleasure in his eyes.

“Epithet,” her name is soft in his whiskey voice and he closes the distance between them to press the velvet of his nose into the crook of her neck, breathing in her fragrance. “It has been too long.” He takes a step back, studying the curves and the angles of her, taking her in before finding her gaze again. “How have you been? I hope that you have been keeping safe in these troubled hours.”

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