[private] the river coursing through us is dirty and deep

[magnus]

although this world is made of fearsome beasts that bark and bite
we were born to put these creatures through one hell of a fight

Something about her is nostalgic.

Something about her is completely new.

He is caught off guard and mesmerized by it, enamored by the way she goes hard and soft, sharp and sweet within a breath, her eyes narrowing even as her lips pull into a laughing smile. He wants to ask her more, wants to peel the layers off of her until he’s left with the ripe core of her, until he can feel the very pieces of her that make her what she is. He wants to know what makes her tick. What she is thinking. Why it always feels like she would just as soon draw a knife across his throat as press a kiss to his jaw.

“They’re a hell of a lot stronger than I am,” he admits, although it doesn’t pain him to do so. He has always known that he is surrounded by souls made of sturdier material than he. He doesn’t pride himself on being the strongest in a room or the most intelligent (if anything, he prides himself on being able to work the hardest, but that’s neither here nor there), and it doesn’t wound his pride to admit it.

Still, he rolls his shoulders, a self-deprecating humor in the glint of his gold-flecked eyes.

“I suffer from a typical male disease of assuming everyone needs me more than I am actually needed,” he sighs dramatically, although his lips still quirk in the corner. “There is no cure. It’s tragic.”

He laughs, soft and low, nodding as she suggests the walk forward.

They move companionably forward, his shoulder to her own, the warm breeze of Tephra winding across his back and through the tangled locks of his mane. For a second, and then several more, he remains quiet, content to hear the sound of their hooves striking the earth and their breath filling the space.

Finally, he breaks the same silence he helped create.

“Why did you come here today, North?”

magnus

@[North]