calm before the storm set it off; any

[magnus]

magnus

howling ghosts, they reappear
in mountains that are stacked with fear

Magnus’ face is molten as he looks at the black stallion, concern and fear washing over his features, trying to study the other stallion and discern whether or not he knew anything of value. Part of him wants to shake the other, get him to spill everything he knows so that he can immediately begin to tear it apart, figure out whatever small details to piece together the mystery of her sudden disappearance.

Still, he knows enough to recognize that he has frightened the young boy and scaring him was hardly the way to get information the quickest. So instead of drilling him, hammering him with pointed question after question, he calms, his golden eyes fierce but the stallion silent. “Me either,” he says quietly, looking away to the horizon briefly, as if she would magically appear, despite the fact that he had searched before.

He brings his gaze back as the boy speaks again, and it is enough to draw forth  a ghost of a smile, the edges of it quirking the edges of his scarred lips. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lauchlan, although I wish it had been under better circumstances.” His frown returns, creasing the corner of his mouth and then drawing his eyebrows together; his expression becoming fierce with concern, rooted in his worry.

“It is unlike her to go so long between trainings,” he admits, rolling his shoulders as a restlessness settles over him. He needs to do something, but he has no idea where to start, no idea where he should go. It left him feeling empty and useless, a barely contained frustration looping through him with no outlet. “I have no idea where to start looking for her though.” He turns his face toward him. “Do you have any ideas?”

but you're a king and I'm a lionheart