Firestarters always get the burns | 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

She is kind and he is grateful for it—grateful for the soft edges of her that make the conversation pleasant and easy. He smile is lopsided and gentle as he considers her, nodding at her offer. “I could always use the company of a good friend,” he rolls a scarred shoulder. “I have gotten used to the weight of it.” It is not the first or even the second time that he has worn the crown, let alone sat in a position of power in a kingdom. He was raised for it, trained from his very first breath. It was expected of him.

Still, it doesn’t mean that he hasn’t resented it before, that he hasn’t even turned from it.

But, centuries have passed and his back has strengthened.

The crown is no longer enough to bend his neck.

But she turns from the topic of politics and he doesn’t fight her on it—doesn’t struggle to stay on a topic that he has done nothing but talk about since his birth. Instead, she asks him questions about his home and his eyes light up, the pride and the joy clear on his handsome face. “You’ve come at a wonderful time if you are looking for some of Tephra’s secrets.” Something like mischief crosses his features.

He angles his head, a corner of his lip quirking.

“Follow me.”

And with a faint, whiskey-laced laugh rippling out from him, he begins to trot ahead, his smoke-dipped legs eating up the earth easily. His muscles are taut beneath his coat, his motions joyful. He looks over his head to make sure that she’s following, to make sure she’s keeping up, before he turns his gaze before him and plunges onward into the thicker vegetation, the path twisting and winding and beautiful.

magnus

@[Ilma]