[private] the river coursing through us is dirty and deep

[magnus]

desire consumes me like a fire consumes me

Gods, how he could lose himself in a moment like this.

She is shadows and light and he is fascinated by the play between them, by the moments of the silence in between. His gold-flecked eyes brighten, betraying his interest, and he watches her intently, gaze only sliding away to look toward the familiar that curls on her back. “No one belongs in a quarantine,” he breathes, trying to imagine what it would be like to have your heart and soul caught in such a vice. “The soul withers behind bars.” He looks up for a moment, just a breath, and feels the wind rustle through his mane. “I was born and raised in the jungle. The Amazons don’t raise their young to enjoy containment.”

Twinge would have gone mad in quarantine, and there is something like a nostalgic spark in his eye as he tries to imagine his mother calming down long enough to be caged. Trying to imagine his panther of a father, a more ferocious version of the animal on her back, listening to rules of borders and boundaries. No, neither of them would have listened to such a thing and there is a wild spark in his chest that raises its chin and balks at the mere thought of it, that bristles at the idea of ever having to remain trapped.

Still, he breathes out the disquiet, reminding himself that he is not trapped.

He is free to come and go as he pleases.

Free to risk the danger beyond the border.

She mentions his death and his face remains neutral even as the waves churn beneath the surface. “I was murdered,” he says simply, and part of him is amazed that he can say it now without flinching. “I watched as he killed the mother of my children and then as the waves washed us both out to sea.” He hadn’t been strong enough to stop Trashlip. A single misstep had been his downfall, enough to give the other stallion the advantage—enough to spell destruction for him and his lover. Enough to drive him below the water.

He shakes slightly, letting the dust rise from him, letting the memories fade. “But you didn’t come to listen to such morbid stories from a stallion as old as me.” None truly did. None came to listen to him wax poetic about his youth or his death or the time in between. “I am glad that you are not sick,” he says softly, returning the touch of her nose with one of his own, letting it linger in the curve behind her jaw. “But I would disagree that you only have one friend.” His smile deepens as he finds her gaze.

Her words rattle the ribcage surrounding his heart and he laughs slightly beneath his breath, turning his eyes toward the border and what lies beyond. “Can I tell you a secret?” The Tephran summer is warm and he feels a familiar sweat build beneath the tangled, matted pieces of his mane. “Part of me wishes the world falling apart was louder, more destructive. There is a very dark part of me that grows bored with the quiet—even when I know it means safety for the ones I care about.” He finally drags his eyes away from the horizon to find hers. “I have a hard time reconciling the need to protect them without numbing every inch of myself. How do I find a balance between peace for my family and adventure for myself?”

good shouldn’t need to tempt us above

@[North] i'd wait forever for your words! <3