Dear Alphinaud:
I have lost count of how many times I've tried to write this letter. I thought coming here to Plum Spring would help- a scene more suited to confessions of the heart may not exist anywhere else. The scent of blossoms fills the air, and the sunlight rests its warm hand on my head, as though telling me not to be afraid- to boldly set down what I must say. Yet my pen still falters.

-Forgive that ink blot. My hand was shaking. Now that it is steadier, I can write the fateful words: I love you.

I would tell you how long I have felt this way, if I could think of aught but having you with me wherever I go. It is selfish of me, yes, but I am only mortal- even I cannot be completely selfless.

I love you, everything about you- the sound of your footsteps, the spark in your eyes. I love your moonlight hair and your artist's hands. I love your flusters even better than your ordinary assurance, and your smile... means more to me than I can possibly say. (Perhaps it is better, after all, that I am writing this rather than telling it to your face. I feel myself blushing far too much.)

I realize this is a great deal to take in. Please know that I mean every word.

If you find that your own heart agrees with mine, write “Yes” on the back of this letter and send it back to me. If it doesn't, return it anyway, with a “No” on the back. However you answer, I will always remain

Your devoted

Ascella

-------------------------------------------
Ascella Parvin, of Siren. If I am chosen, I would prefer the Bluebird Earring for my prize.