mag/krav(/rq?)

"So it is you who has been distracting my reaper," The Raven Queen smiles, perched unmoving and above them on Her throne, "/Magnus/."

Kravitz tears his eyes from Her visage, porcelain lips lined with wine purple. He glances nervously at his... /distraction/. Magnus is handsome as ever and more awestruck than he's ever seen him, and Kravitz wonders which of Her forms he's gazing upon. If he can even see her at all, /really/.

"Uh, y-yes, I'm Magnus, my Queen, I--"

"Am I?"

Magnus' heavy brows furrow. His whole face looks darker in the astral nothingness surrounding them, and Kravitz feels less strange about this melding of his two worlds than he thought he might.

"Huh?" Magnus starts, and then, before Kravitz can kick him, "Uh I mean, begeth your pardon?"

Gods above and below. Kravitz bites his cheeks to stop from smiling.

"/Am I/, as you say, /your Queen/? Istus and I are... /close/, and from what She has shared, it seems as though, if you worship anyone, it might be Her. Or do you not agree, Magnus?"

Kravitz is sure that if he had running blood, he would be tasting it by now, for how hard he's biting down on his laughter. She's /toying/ with him. And he knows the terror of it first-hand, a million lifetimes over, but watching it from an outside perspective is… /very/ funny, a little bit.

Beside him, Magnus inhales sharp. "Umm… I dunno if I'd say that? /Any/ of that, really. I'm kinda. /Between gods/, right now?"

Kravitz can't take it. "My Queen," he struggles not to audibly wheeze, "if I may; I fear as though any more interrogation and Magnus' visit to the Astral might end up a little more permanent."

The Queen's figure shifts on Her throne, leaning a little closer to them. "He /does/ look rather sick, doesn't he. And we can't have that, if you're to be taking him out, Kravitz."

Kravitz's stomach, despite not existing, drops. He shouldn't have said anything.

The Raven Queen's form shifts, twists into thousands of wings and black scrapings and then dilutes. When She steps toward them, it's in an approximation of Her mortal form. Tall, but just in the scheme of living beings. Beautiful, but only in the ways of women millions of years younger than She.

"Well enough. I give my blessings unto you both; providing your relationship causes no hindrance to either of your missions, you may take each other as you please. However," and She takes an elegant stride towards Magnus at this, raising one poised, clawed finger to his lip, "/do/ try to look a little nicer, for him. A little less /sick/. My Kravitz mightn't say so, but he is one for preening. Pleasure in beauty and beautiful things, you understand."

In a blink, She's disappeared, back to Her dais and occupying lightyears, molecules.

Kravitz turns to regard Magnus and chokes on a breath he didn't intend to give life. Her touch has blessed him with a sheen of rose gold on his brown cheekbones. A smudge of kohl, an even deeper black to his thick eyelashes. A sheen to his lips only visible when Magnus faces him, bewildered. All subtle, all beautiful. All Magnus, the canvas of him enhanced by the touch of a Goddess.

The Queen remains unmoving, painted smile on lips that breathe life to galaxies.

"Um. Let me… escort you home." Kravitz manages, offering an arm and conjuring his scythe on his other side.

They're halfway through the tear he's created when She shifts, resounding noise of twisting bone behind them. Magnus almost turns. Kravitz's claws in his forearm deliver a clear message that he should /not/.

"And Magnus? I'm sure I need not fret about you hurting him. I imagine you can guess the stakes."

Kravitz feels his cheeks burn hot even once he's pulled them back into the cool air of the moon base, and long, long after.