Magnus hates the field this time of year. He hates the fear that he sees in the mare’s eyes—that distrust that boils in their veins, not without reason. Perhaps that is why he feels more obligated than ever to come here, his features stormy as he watches the interactions, something like a weight settling across his shoulders. When he watches the young mare move into the field, lean and strong, his gaze stays there.
There is something about her that is graceful, but in a way made for battle, something that screams of prowess. It catches his attention although he doesn’t move toward her immediately. It is only when the black stallion approaches, something of aggression in his stance that Magnus moves from where he had been resting against a tree. He is not far away and it doesn’t take him long to close the gap.
He approaches in time to hear Lior’s warning and he cuts his gaze toward the draconic stallion, a tight smile curling the edges of his crooked smile. “It is safe enough,” is all he says, his whiskey-voice husky. Magnus had never been one to appreciate the forceful ways someone exhibited in the field. This was meant to be a place of options—a place of possibility—not a place to be claimed like an item.
Still, muscles tense beneath his war-scarred coat, he turns his attention back to the girl in question.
“My name is Magnus,” he offers, one ear angled toward Lior, constantly keeping tabs on him. “It is a pleasure to meet you,” his eyes warm slightly as he studies her face and then cool as he slides his gaze over to the dragon. “Both of you.” Perhaps a warning, perhaps just a greeting.
Either way, Magnus settles, making it clear he had no intention of leaving anytime soon.
MAGNUS | I don't belong to anyone, but everybody knows my name
@[Tähti] @[Lior]
![[Image: gqYjsHr.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/KjqNDKxc/gqYjsHr.png)