tell me i'm wrong, and i'll say i'm sorry | any

[magnus]

I wanna give you wild love, the kind that never slows down
I wanna take you high up let our hearts be the only sound

He watches her thoughtfully, wondering at what simmers beneath the surface. She strikes him as the kind of soul that contains infinities, and his mouth almost quirks at the idea, at the endless galaxies that may lay trapped beneath her skin. Still, his face remains carefully neutral, gold-flecked eyes observant but not overly invasive, not trying to pick her apart so that he can untangle the threads of her her immediately.

“Celest,” he repeats her name, letting it roll around on the edges of his whiskey tongue. “The pleasure is all mine.” The words are learned behavior, the pleasantries of diplomacy hammered into him from a young age, but they are genuine all the same. Magnus cannot help the enjoyment that he finds in meeting new faces, in greeting newcomers to his home, and he doesn’t bother trying to hide it from his face now.

When she smiles, teasing about the grass, he laughs, the sound husky and low as it flows into the space between them. “Ah,” he stretches, tossing his head a little and looking at the area around them. “As much as I would like to think myself important enough to own all of this, it’s not the case.” Not entirely true as Magnus never thought himself grand enough to own anything, but humor lights his face all the same.

He gestures around them, face warming as he takes in the wild land surrounding them.

“Tephra is all her own,” he looks back to find her gaze, “and there’s plenty of grass to share.”

I wanna go where the lights burn low and you're only mine