[Another day, another letter. Sadly he hadn't had a chance to make time for Balthier since their date, caught in a flurry of interviews and paperwork, and checking in with his people. Too much was happening. That didn't mean he didn't text Balthier each day. A picture here to show off something delightful he'd seen, a passing remark that he was too tired to come over but if Balthier had energy here was a show or a movie or music to try that was on the external. And, after he'd had some time to clear his head, and right, a letter finally arrived, slipped under Balthier's door, and actually in an envelope sealed with wax with strange shapes pressed into them. Break the seal and inside was a letter, with the writing far more confident, and what was more, a pair of satchets of tea were in the envelope too, one labeled 'almond sugar cookie' and the other 'vanilla oolong'. And of course there was a letter.]
Dearest light,
As I put pen once more to paper I find myself driven to beg your forgiveness for the delay. I assure you that it has taken a lot to keep me from basking in the warmth of your very presence. Of course we both knew this was far too possible to be true, I had just hoped expectation did not match reality.
Yet for all that you have not been in my presence in truth, I find you so often sauntering through my mind. I find myself certain that while some force may have brought us into each other's orbits, they do not affect us now. Truly with each day I am more certain that what I feel is true, and something I should not hold myself back from.
More and more as I read and reread and consider your words, I find myself wishing that perhaps our positions were reversed. That I was brought to Ivalice, or perhaps at least a world similar enough to it that you would be on solid footing. Would that I could give you your friends here, instead of mine. I am used to learning to be on my own, but you, mon bijou, I think need those you trust and love around you more than you may say aloud, or even on paper. And, of course, I have traveled many worlds, but never have I been graced by one like you describe.
Since you speak of your life and what it has been like for you, and what it makes you, so perhaps I should share the openness with you. They are words I don't know that I could offer aloud. I have spent much of my life trying to appear in control, and afraid of being out of it. More than once I have thought myself in a good place, only to be abandoned. My life has been one of so many trials, and so much loss. I lost myself more than once too. But in you I find myself.
I suppose it's not entirely finding myself, but I find you, and what you are feels right. I feel like I don't need to pretend with you. I can just be me, and I don't feel shame about who I am. You make me excited to be David Alleyne. You make me wake up and when I look in the mirror I see myself and I don't flinch away. I feel like i'm worth more when I see myself through your eyes.
Perhaps the moon needs another light to tell him that he's worth it. But the more he looks upon the light that guides he wishes he could reflect, the more he begins to think it is not the candle he looks upon, but a star fallen to the Earth. Perhaps it is not among its ilk, but it is no less stunning for the fact that it flickers below.
Would that a novel were enough to write to express all these feelings in my heart. But it's not. So I ask instead for your patience. And, perhaps, the pleasure of your company the night after tomorrow, for more food and watching of things, before I am truly overwhelmed by another tide of duties. I beg that you allow me this chance to bask in your light.
Letter 2: Feb 18th
Dearest light,
As I put pen once more to paper I find myself driven to beg your forgiveness for the delay. I assure you that it has taken a lot to keep me from basking in the warmth of your very presence. Of course we both knew this was far too possible to be true, I had just hoped expectation did not match reality.
Yet for all that you have not been in my presence in truth, I find you so often sauntering through my mind. I find myself certain that while some force may have brought us into each other's orbits, they do not affect us now. Truly with each day I am more certain that what I feel is true, and something I should not hold myself back from.
More and more as I read and reread and consider your words, I find myself wishing that perhaps our positions were reversed. That I was brought to Ivalice, or perhaps at least a world similar enough to it that you would be on solid footing. Would that I could give you your friends here, instead of mine. I am used to learning to be on my own, but you, mon bijou, I think need those you trust and love around you more than you may say aloud, or even on paper. And, of course, I have traveled many worlds, but never have I been graced by one like you describe.
Since you speak of your life and what it has been like for you, and what it makes you, so perhaps I should share the openness with you. They are words I don't know that I could offer aloud. I have spent much of my life trying to appear in control, and afraid of being out of it. More than once I have thought myself in a good place, only to be abandoned. My life has been one of so many trials, and so much loss. I lost myself more than once too. But in you I find myself.
I suppose it's not entirely finding myself, but I find you, and what you are feels right. I feel like I don't need to pretend with you. I can just be me, and I don't feel shame about who I am. You make me excited to be David Alleyne. You make me wake up and when I look in the mirror I see myself and I don't flinch away. I feel like i'm worth more when I see myself through your eyes.
Perhaps the moon needs another light to tell him that he's worth it. But the more he looks upon the light that guides he wishes he could reflect, the more he begins to think it is not the candle he looks upon, but a star fallen to the Earth. Perhaps it is not among its ilk, but it is no less stunning for the fact that it flickers below.
Would that a novel were enough to write to express all these feelings in my heart. But it's not. So I ask instead for your patience. And, perhaps, the pleasure of your company the night after tomorrow, for more food and watching of things, before I am truly overwhelmed by another tide of duties. I beg that you allow me this chance to bask in your light.
I await your response eagerly.
Ever your humble companion,
David