To you, my other half:


Since our first meeting, stumbling in from the cold with nothing but numb hands and the clothes on my back, you have shielded me.

When others cried out for my protection I swallowed the childish cry that pierced my heart — who will protect me?

But you heard.

Where I stumbled, where others fell back, you reached out your hand; when their pleas for help turned to shouts of condemnation you stood by me. I would have died for you, if only I could...

I know I am not an easy person to love. It is dangerous, it seems, even to stand in the same room with me. Banquets are ash in my mouth. Wine is sour on my tongue. You know my scars. You know why. And still you remain.

Sharlayan philosophers say that to truly love another one must first love oneself, but although I am certainly no philosopher I am bold enough to call them liars. I had no room in my heart to love before we met — filled as it was with the prayers of those I swore to protect, with the hopes of those who stood by and watched as I was betrayed.

You alone knew the thoughts I could not speak. You knew my heart. You taught me I was allowed to want — to need — something beyond the mission I was entrusted with. With you, I wanted to be selfish. I wanted you to stay.

You gave me that gift. What else could it be, but love?

Who else could I love, but you?


— You know my name




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Character Name: Chiral Etxevarria
World: Midgardsormr
Prize: Scarf of Wondrous Wit