The "Be My Valentione!" Creative Writing Contest (NA) - OFFICIAL ENTRY THREAD

[Sahanara]

Dear Estinien Wyrmblood,

Please, for the love of the Twelve, clean your armor. My dear and precious Nidhogg Slayer I truly thank you for killing the dragon (and returning the eye to Hraesvelgr) but it is odd that you keep the wyrm’s blood on you instead of forging another set of armor – yes, I am a dragoon as well and know the pain you will go through. Also, you are very rude to the Moogle’s, I understand that the kupo-ing is annoying and all the cuteness overloads your edgelord senses, but dude, really? Have some respect for the fluffy tribe. Now, with those formalities out of the way, I am writing a letter to you, partially at Alphinaud’s request and partially as my own. Alphinaud’s teaching me how to formally write dinner invitations, after I blotched ink over the last bunch he painfully prepared; and I wanted to do this because Aymeric bet 2,000 gil that I wouldn’t have a Valentione for Valentione’s Day. In a gust of pathetic cowardice not befitting any Warrior of Light, I thought this would be less awkward than sending it to Alisaie – you must admit she’s adorable – and then Alphinaud freaks out because I like his sister. And so, here we are. So, man to man, will you be my Valentione?

I understand, if you don’t, you and Lady Iceheart seem to have a close bond or it could just be me in denial and my feelings for you that of a maiden's love-struck heart. But, in all honesty, you and Iceheart have some real chemistry going on, so I think you have a chance to get her if you get over your ego Mr. I Killed A Dragon.


Clean your gear. Godspeed.

Love,

Shea.

Character: Shea Sahanara
World: Brynhildr
Preferred reward: Noble Barding

[Rytenule]

To my dear Hilda,

So long and bitter, these moons have become,
With pale succor in old memories and rum.
Raw beats of mine heavy heart flood my room,
As all my dreams seek the Rose of the Brume.

From the tense misunderstandings as we met,
There is not a prick of thorns I shall regret.
Scant warmth is treasured in Corethas’s frost,
But it’s in your sassy smirking I became lost.

With black leather and a rifle you lead the way,
Embracing the Mongrel, so words hold no sway.
Let the nobles judge the mixture of your birth,
They shall miss the beauty or your sardonic mirth.

A pirate and a scoundrel could’ve let it fall,
But idealistic fools, set out to save them all.
I long not for the trials of Ishgard long past,
Only it’s greatest daughter, loyal to the last.

Oft have my travels taken me far and wide.
Gladly would I trade them to be at your side.
Until the distant sky the Pillars once more loom,
I shall dream evermore of my sweet Rose of the Brume.


Yours forever,

Bremwyda Albynpfefwyb


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Bremwyda Albynpfefwyb
Mateus
Noble Barding