from crib to coffin - open

[magnus]

desire consumes me like a fire consumes me

It feels good to find some thread of normality in the everyday routine.

It feels good to remind himself that, underneath the chaos of the plague, there is still a life to be lived. Tephra remains strong. Beqanna remains busy. There are still souls out there who need homes—who long for purpose or stability or just a change. So Magnus smiles when he wakes with the rising sun, when he shakes the dust from his crushed gold coat and turns to the border, rocketing forward across the lands.

He finds what has become his new path, the territories bleeding away beneath his surging gait, his war-scarred body covering ground quickly. It is a longer distance to travel than before, but he has long since memorized the quickest path to the field, cutting through the kingdoms, skirting along the borders, and then charging across the common lands, eating up the land with his stride, his hoofbeats thundering.

When he finally reaches the field, he is damp and dusk, the thin skin around his nostrils soaked as the delicate skin flares. But it is the eyes that show the joy of the run, the gold-flecked depths bright and charged, flaring to life as he looks around the field, watching as the alabaster mare feeds on the outskirts.

He doesn’t waste time in making his way to her, but neither does he charge up to her.

He walks slow and steadily, arching around her so that she can see him, hear him, approaching. When he gets close enough, he stops, dropping his head into a greeting. “Hello there,” his whiskey voice is smooth and unaffected by the run, the stallion having caught his breath. “My name is Magnus.” He considers asking more, but he decides to leave it—let her point the conversation in whichever direction she’d like.

good shouldn’t need to tempt us above