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

He has no idea what it is like to slip into the water and become the ocean or flit along the wind and then become the very breeze that had once carried you. He has no concept of the magic that blurs the edges of her consciousness, stretching her control over her body into something unimaginable and infinite. He is but a man and an exceedingly normal one at that. He is old, and now immortal, but he has no other gifts to speak of—just brawn and grit and the ever present willingness to bleed for those things that he loves.

Still, she interest him and he listens to her words, enchanted by the idea of it. “I had thought the ocean had looked particularly lovely lately,” he teases, gold-flecked eyes warm beneath the sun-bleached edges of his forelock. “I do prefer you in this form though. It makes conversations a little easier.” Not that he minded the idea of her being the waves washing up on the shore or the leaves shading his back.

He continues to walk alongside her, taking a deep breath and feeling the humidity pull into his chest, sitting like a stone there, heavy and full. He has no way of being able to truly articulate the way that this feels so comforting—the way that the land has become his only home. He has lived so many places in his life; to have found one that suits him so well is a rare and pleasant surprise.

“What do you want to do, now that you’re back?”

Again, he looks at her from the corner of his eye, his scarred lips lifting into a smile.

“Other than enjoy such pleasant walks with me, of course.”

magnus

@[Epithet]