love comes slow and it goes so fast; nayl

[magnus]

“Ah, well, then forgive me.” His gold-flecked eyes widened in mock surprise. “I see now you are indeed rather old,” he reached forward and sniffed, but didn’t touch, before drawing back, his expression twisting into disgust. “You smell of dust and mold, Nayl. Do the Amazons not extend the courtesy of warning their visitors that their Queen practically rots on the throne?” He laughed then, the sound husky and warm as the teasing brightened his expression, his smile genuine. She was turning out to be quite an interesting companion—the ice melting just slightly, allowing him to see the warm, friendly woman beneath it.

“Forgive me for the teasing. 20 still seems rather young to me.” Despite the youth that clung deceptively to his body, decades had passed since his birth. It was hard to imagine that 20 years was considered old—that it was considered past her prime. Still, his expression grew mildly puzzled at her confession and then softened into understanding. “I do not find that strange at all.” He glanced out for a moment to the ocean that roared around them, the white-caps visible as they collided against the cliffs, the very same waves crawling meekly onto the shore. “I just think you’re waiting for one worthy of the honor.”

When his gold-flecked eyes moved back to find hers, they were kind. “When you finally find someone to share that piece of you with, you’ll be glad you waited.” He was certain of it; he was certain she would find someone who made it easy to open up, someone for whom she blossomed. It wouldn’t be a struggle, and it wouldn’t be painful—it would be as easy and right as breathing, as easy as drawing air into lungs.

Still, he allowed the conversation to shift, rolling battle-worn shoulders. “Is it that obvious?” He winked a little and glanced down to the puckered flesh, the hide that barely covered the criss cross of scars. Her question was an interesting one though, and he gave it his full attention, musing over it. “That is difficult because I have indeed called many places my home—and I fear my answer is two-fold.” Another rogue smile that pulled his corners up crookedly. “The Jungle was—will,” he corrected, “forever be the home of my heart. I will love nothing the way that I loved its tangled vines, the humid air, its warrior women. It felt like home in that I could put down my armor, in that I could be myself. It molded to me.”

A pause as he frowned, considering. “But I gave my soul to the Gates. Despite the fact that I never truly belonged—despite the fact that some of my worst mistakes, my worst memories were rooted there. It never mattered. My life took me there time and time again, and I forfeit my soul for her long ago.”

out of the blue out into the loneliest place that you'll ever know
I carried the world just as far as I could but the damage had taken its toll