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


===============

Bremwyda Albynpfefwyb
Mateus
Noble Barding