Magnus heart was a scarred, complex thing.
He had given it away before, completely, without reservation. He had taken it back. He had it stolen. He had it broken. It was not whole, not anymore; it was, in his opinion, an ugly, twisted thing. Torn too tight in some corners, burned to ash in others. The sight of his daughter, his beautiful, perfect daughter, still on the ground may have caused the worst of the damage. He was not sure he would ever recover from that.
Yet, it still beat, thrummed, in his chest. It pushed him forward up each morning, pushing him to work past the worst of his depression, to beat it back, although the sadness of it still nipped and ached in the center of his bones. His heart still pulsed violently, still urged him onward to carve out his vision in this sulfuric air, in the volcanic soil. He would not feel content, not truly, until stability had been reached.
Tonight, as the sun dipped below the horizon, and he stood watch, his gaze washing over all the dips and crevices of the land he was learning to know, learning to love, he was raw with emotion. All of his fears for his people, all of his worries for the future, all of his loss, bore down heavy upon his spine so that his mouth was drawn into a frown, his gold-flecked eyes stormy with emotion.
It felt right that she was there.
His flesh reacted to her before he did, shivering and rippling beneath her touch, although his head did not turn toward her, not yet. “Ellyse,” was all he responded at first, his voice thick with emotion, husky and warm as it pooled onto his tongue. Finally, as the sky began to grow darker, the orange of the sunset bleeding into the mauves and indigos of the night, he swung around to look at her. Finally see her.
“I always need you,” he confessed, taking the words and pressing them into her as his chest touched her, as he reached down to gently press his muzzle to her neck. “I need all of you.”
magnus
![[Image: gqYjsHr.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/KjqNDKxc/gqYjsHr.png)