[Closed] Who waits for their own slaughter... sheep.

[magnus]

magnus

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

The sun is high today, warming Magnus as he makes his way through the field. He loves the summer when it’s like this, when the day turns golden and the air practically sizzles. He enjoys the heat, loves the way it warms the blood in his very veins, and although he knows that he should probably seek out the shade or watch how much time he exerted himself beneath the golden light, he didn't bother. He was born into the heat of the jungle, raised amongst the vines. He was capable of handling himself here.

For the most part though, the day was languid, and he grazed idly on the borders of the field.

It was not the most active of places within Beqanna. He had watched its activity ebb and flow over the years, and he knew that not everyone sought it out as the first step toward a home, but he couldn't break himself away from it. It was part of his daily ritual. Part of his way of serving his home. He had always enjoyed losing himself within the work and he genuinely enjoyed helping others during their journey.

He lifts his head when he sees the mare walking in, chewing thoughtfully as he watches her gaze—as nearly as warm as the day itself. He wasn’t sure if what he had to offer would be what she sought, but he had never been against offering a home different than his own if that’s what he thought suited the other soul best. It did him no good to trick someone into coming to Tephra if that’s not what they truly wanted.

Swallowing, Magnus picked himself up, straightening his shoulders, and made his way toward her.

His gaze was languid, the gait that of a seasoned warrior who was utterly comfortable in his body. His tail flicked idly, chasing the summer pests away, and he came to a stop several feet from her. Dropping his head, he gave her a roguish grin, made all the more charming for the crooked way it settled on his face.

“Hello, there!” his whiskey voice rumbled from his throat. “My name is Magnus.”

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