Like a Thorn to the Holy Ones [any]

[magnus]

Magnus was, as per usual, in the Field when the morning arrived. He was standing near the border, eyes half closed as the spring sun washed over the gold of his coat, when he saw the stallion enter. It was enough for him to stir from the rest, black-tipped ears swiveling forward in interest as he watched him move through the field to come to a stopping point. Stallions were not entirely rare here, but they were certainly not the norm—and if the Gates could use anything right now, it was those strong enough to fight. More than that though, they needed those who were willing to fight for what was right.

The buckskin stallion rolled his scarred shoulders, shaking out his handsome head, before beginning to make his way to the blood bay. It was hard to gauge what the other was like from just appearances, but he knew that most stallions were not eager to join a kingdom known as Heaven’s Gates. Lord knows that he himself had not jumped at the chance at first, but over time, he had come to love the peaceful land. He loved what it stood for—and even if he did not necessarily fit in, and never would be their white knight, he had learned to make it home. He could only hope the other would feel the same.

“Hello there,” he greeted as he came to a stop several feet away, his voice husky. “My name is Magnus.” The buckskin tilted his head to the side, watching him quietly, the scar on his left cheek prominent. “What brings you to the field today?” Normally, Magnus did not like to cut to the chase so quickly, rather enjoying the process of getting to know them and helping them find a home, but something told him that this stallion would appreciate a more blunt approach. He didn’t strike him as the type to beat around the bush.