Firestarters always get the burns | Magnus

[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

Tephra has relaxed into a state of ease, despite the troubles that stir in Beqanna.

They remain safe, cloaked in protection, and he is—not for the first time—grateful for Warrick and the sacrifices he has made to bring about such stability. Magnus does not worry as much about venturing forth and should the disease come to him, then he is prepared to meet it. (He already carries it. It brews in his veins and yet he knows nothing—has no idea that he is a carrier and a danger to anyone he meets.)

Still, the field has been quiet and although he makes regular trips to it, he also spends time in his ashen home. He walks the borders, checks on the residents, and keeps an eye on the coming and goings. They have an open border policy—have always had such a thing—but that does not mean he does not watch.

That he does not make sure danger does not blow across the borders when he is not looking.

So it only takes a few minutes before he sees Ilma standing at the border, her sunshine wings folding across her back, and her face pleasant as she waits. It has been a long time since he has seen the diplomat from the Sanctuary, and a while further since they have crossed each other in the field, and he grins as he makes his way toward her, his smile crooked and genuine. “Ilma,” he greets in whiskey tones, his handsome head nodding as he stops. “It’s been a while since I’ve had the pleasure of your company.”

He takes a step back, gesturing her forward and further into the tropical kingdom.

“To what do I owe the pleasure today? Is there something I can help you with?”

magnus

@[Ilma]