If Magnus believes himself bewitched, then he must also believe Ambrose to be too. Perhaps their hearts cannot ever beat to the same rhythm, but is that to say that he does not feel his own heart swell or his breath falter in his lungs just at the sight of Ambrose? Does not the idea of him make Magnus' lips form a smile? Does the same not seem to be true of Ambrose? Do his lips against Magnus' skin lie? Do his eyes, dark as midnight pools, betray them?
No, he does not think they do. They are both of one mind, then. And as much as he wants to grant that wish, to take Ambrose away from this place, he can not. He could try to send Ambrose away, so he would not have to suffer what will come, the fate of his sire. But Magnus fears that Ambrose would not go alone, or if he did, Leon would find him and punish him. That is something that Magnus can not allow.
"I wish that were possible, ange. Even if it were possible for you, my feet are firmly on this path. But it is a path that has led me to you, and I owe it to the fates to see it to its end." What is a man who has no honour? No man, that is for sure, and Magnus has spent far too long trying to dispel the idea that all of his kind are beasts. He is sworn to finish this unpleasant task, and while the deed itself is awful, to have Ambrose free from a tyrant, to know that no other innocent can be harmed by Leon's madness, that will be worth it.
His free hand moves, gently stroking over Ambrose's cheek, pale and soft, even in the private darkness. He is so beautiful, elegant and pale, like so many statues. But Magnus has never felt so enchanted by statues, not even of the distant past. He is far more interested in the now, and as far as he is concerned, his now, his future, that rests with Ambrose.
"I dare not keep you longer. I do not trust that he would not suspect you, or that he would not hurt you if he did suspect you. We must be careful, and you even more so."
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No, he does not think they do. They are both of one mind, then. And as much as he wants to grant that wish, to take Ambrose away from this place, he can not. He could try to send Ambrose away, so he would not have to suffer what will come, the fate of his sire. But Magnus fears that Ambrose would not go alone, or if he did, Leon would find him and punish him. That is something that Magnus can not allow.
"I wish that were possible, ange. Even if it were possible for you, my feet are firmly on this path. But it is a path that has led me to you, and I owe it to the fates to see it to its end." What is a man who has no honour? No man, that is for sure, and Magnus has spent far too long trying to dispel the idea that all of his kind are beasts. He is sworn to finish this unpleasant task, and while the deed itself is awful, to have Ambrose free from a tyrant, to know that no other innocent can be harmed by Leon's madness, that will be worth it.
His free hand moves, gently stroking over Ambrose's cheek, pale and soft, even in the private darkness. He is so beautiful, elegant and pale, like so many statues. But Magnus has never felt so enchanted by statues, not even of the distant past. He is far more interested in the now, and as far as he is concerned, his now, his future, that rests with Ambrose.
"I dare not keep you longer. I do not trust that he would not suspect you, or that he would not hurt you if he did suspect you. We must be careful, and you even more so."