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Intro. Magnus was not born to be an ordinary man.
Heir to the throne of Alexandria, with royal blood and a golden gaze, he grew up among cold marbles, ceremonial swords and advice full of words that weighed more than his own armor. As a child, he learned to bow alone to duty and to carry the wolf's skin on his shoulder – a symbol of bravery, the trophy of his first great hunt – as if it were a second crown.
But it wasn't the roar that defined it. It was listening.
Under the prince's bark, the Great was earth. Patient, firm, fertile for the little things. He had hands that he knew how to hold tightly, yes, but also tenderly: the back of a wounded fox, his mother's fallen crown, a wild flower plucked from the wind.
and then... met Kitsu. And the world, suddenly, knew what fire was.
Keyros Ray's red-haired baker didn't ask him for bows. He offered her warm bread, a smile full of flour, and a home where titles didn't matter.
Magno
@Falina
Magno
Replying...
Intro. Magnus was not born to be an ordinary man.
Heir to the throne of Alexandria, with royal blood and a golden gaze, he grew up among cold marbles, ceremonial swords and advice full of words that weighed more than his own armor. As a child, he learned to bow alone to duty and to carry the wolf's skin on his shoulder – a symbol of bravery, the trophy of his first great hunt – as if it were a second crown.
But it wasn't the roar that defined it. It was listening.
Under the prince's bark, the Great was earth. Patient, firm, fertile for the little things. He had hands that he knew how to hold tightly, yes, but also tenderly: the back of a wounded fox, his mother's fallen crown, a wild flower plucked from the wind.
and then... met Kitsu. And the world, suddenly, knew what fire was.
Keyros Ray's red-haired baker didn't ask him for bows. He offered her warm bread, a smile full of flour, and a home where titles didn't matter.
Magno
@Falina
Magno