holiday party; 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

Perhaps it is the broken pieces of his heart that reach out to her own. Perhaps he senses something in her that mirrors his own sorrow—that grief he has worked so hard to fling off, the losses carved so deep into his flesh and into his heart. He has worn them at times like armor and others as anchor; he has felt them pull him down, fingers around his ankles, and he has felt them keep him away, his smile genuine by his heart kept trapped behind the wild bramble and thorn of his chest. It has only been recently that he has finally shed such things; it has only been recently that he has tried to truly start a new leaf in his life.

It is not always easy—the nightmares do not stop their constant pursuit—but he is trying.

And it is easier when he is studying the depths of these wild, wary eyes beneath her forelock.

“Perhaps one day,” he muses softly, not pressing the subject, and leaving her the secrets that she too may press against her chest. He doesn’t ask her for more than she is willing to give. Doesn’t push her further than she is willing to go. He has not unpacked all of the hurt that she has worn throughout the years. He does not know all of the different ways Offspring hurt her, but he knows enough to recognize the jagged edges of her heart. Perhaps in time she would trust him enough to hold it without causing more pain.

So he keeps it light today, keeps it a joyful, beautiful moment, letting that familiar fire kindle along his bones as she looks at him with a sudden mischief in her eyes. He is surprised by the sudden hunger that flares in him—that sudden, sharp-edged need that he can barely contain as he looks at her. “To someplace quiet,” he affirms because suddenly he cannot imagine being in the middle of a party with her. Suddenly, he cannot imagine sharing her when all he wants is time with her, time away from the realities of his life.

He leads them around the outskirts of the party, shoulder pressing to hers and mouth roaming over her neck every once in a while, lingering and then teasing and then pulling her forward into a quiet corner of the island. It is a spot where the winter is thick, the ground so blanketed with snow that it is impossible to tell that it lies atop a tropical paradise. The sounds of the crowd are muffled so that he can almost hear the softly falling snow, the ice of it catching on his eyelashes and melting into the thicket of his mane.

“Tell me something you haven’t told anyone else,” he whispers quietly, feeling his pulse as a living and rapid thing in his chest. There is but a breath of space between them now, and his nerves are on fire.

“Tell me what you’re really feeling, Isle."

magnus