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Ruthless.
Determined.
Resolute.
Those are common words that our mutual colleagues have used in order to describe you.
To many outside of your small circle of comfort, you were the ever-reckless, ever-pragmatic Vice Captain of the 5th Company, always putting your viscerally mortal life on the line for the thrill of the fight. For the sake of your over-arching, never-ending goal. Glory, recognition and devotion from the masses meant little to you in the pursuit of true power; nor did the crimson, glistening gore shed from your enemies curb your ever-growing voracity for more. A true warrior and weapon, in all senses of the word. Wild nature, that would never truly be “tamed” or “obedient” again.
But, that’s only the mask you wish to show the world. Isn’t it?
Away from prying, pitying eyes, I’ve seen the way you crumble when faced with your own limits, reminded of your humanity. How your eyes, hollow yet warm, become filled with a void of helplessness when you feel you’ve not “done enough” for your colleagues, when their safety slips just out of your grasp. Behind each genuine laugh or tender smile, there is a deep-seated fear - that it may be the last one shared between us, if you’re not careful in your coy, boyish ways. That “time” is cruel, healing wounds you wished to forget and grow stronger from with such a dulling, numbing slowness that feels almost tantalizing. How it drags you back to those moments of vulnerability and weakness, rather than allowing you to truly share the present with those you love. Patience is a waiting game, and compassion is a test.
And yet, you persevere on, regardless of those rumors. Regardless of that fear. Regardless of the “weakness” love has brought you.
I, too, share the same sentiment.
Perhaps, in your eyes, I’m akin to a Nightingale: brilliantly soaring, tender in its form. Small yet valiant, swearing to lead you through darkness to a radiant dawn.
Yet, much like birds are prey to their own predators, I’ve shared my fair amount of woes, tragedies and memories that dare to shatter me to my broken core. Demented, lonesome thoughts that lead to ripping my feathers one by one, scattering them in the hopes others will rescue me from my self-destructive prophecies. Just like you had, with your hand reaching for my own.
You always tell me to take care of myself, not to spread my wings too far lest they snap under pressure, nor should I throw myself into the demented flames to warm others. That even if I too am a captain in my own right, that my “bright, irreplaceable" existence in itself is enough reason to keep myself alive. For my Father, for my colleagues, for the “grand Elysium” you wish to see alongside me one day.
For you, because you “love” me. Even if saying that word carries a profound weight in your throat, as if you may well choke on the notion of being loved in return. Or perhaps, it’s the fear of being unloved by the person you’ve become attached to that makes it all the harder to say.
…But I do. I love you, more than I could ever describe in words, letters, dinners and gifts alone. Perhaps, it would be impossible to share it in words, unless it’s connecting them through our lips, through the clash of our weapons in another playful spar. No amount of darkness, of distance, of pain and suffrage could ever keep me from you. Even if it's you who causes it with your cheeky rigidness, attempting to push me away from the light that is your true, exposed self.
If you find yourself sinking, suffocating in the blood shed from your mighty spear, drowning in the haze between your inner heaven and hell: then call my name, shout for me. Reach for me, and I will pull you towards the twilight skies, so we may fly together into a future where we may find peace from our burdens.
It’s because I believe in you, that I’m willing to walk this path forward.
Warm.
Solicitous.
Benevolent.
That’s how I would describe you. The true you.
For you are more than what life has dealt you, and you are more lovable than you may ever know.
My Knight, My Bunny.