Joshua, I must admit I have grown rather fond of our correspondence, even as we now call ourselves comrades in arms. That you are so close to me now does not escape my attention, nor does the strangeness of keeping up this pretense of distance as I continue to apply myself to pen and paper both. I know that dire circumstances loom over our horizon, clouding our tomorrows with its darkening gaze, but these letters have been ever the respite from all that awaits me. And though I do not think myself worthy of it, I find your words a much needed salve to the wounds I have endured, even as I recognize them as being of my own making. Perhaps I do not deserve such kindness, but I bask in it like a storm-sodden rose beneath the dawn’s burgeoning light. But how could you ever be anything other than the warmth of a new day? You are the Phoenix, and as the man I am now, a far cry from the man I thought I would be, I cannot help but see the beauty in that. We are not our eikons. This I know as I know how the blue of your eyes matches the summer sky just before night moves in to brush its lips against the day. We are more than these creatures thrust upon us at our births, and yet they are as much a part of us as our own skin. Our destinies have ever been entwined with theirs, for better or worse. Bahamut may be of the light, but there is no denying his appetite for destruction. So, forgive me if I cannot help but look to you as a reminder of all that might still be, even when the world has become but ash and broken dreams. Your presence has inspired better thoughts within me, though part of me is ashamed to admit as much. For you see, I have thought of us dancing through the skies, untouched by the earth and all its worldly demands. I feel as though such a thing might be the first taste of true freedom I might delight in, unshackled even if for but a few brief moments from duty. That we might be both of ourselves and these brilliant, brutal beings caged within us, united in the …
Good morning, #phoenixflare nation ☀️
I thought to write again of sky-sanctioned waltzes and desires simmering beneath death's hand...
