There was a poem I had penned once. Why I chose to do so is beyond me. It was a typical eve within Oblivion. The others were scattered about typical routine, while I occupied my quarters. Crimson light bled from the stained glass windows into my sanctum, trickling about the aisles of bookcases. I dipped a spare quill in the ink well of my desk, and sighed lightly. I was experiencing an intense migraine at the time, yet, it was more the cause of some sort of thought. But what? My assignments were completed, reports filed and submitted, yet… There was something that my mind begged to jot down upon the parchment before me. Under the flickering candlelight to guide me, I began to let my hand dance upon the parchment, writing as if it had acquired a mind of it's own.
My fairest, you are the finest of souls to have descended from the heavens;
To have graced me.
My heart begs for the allowance of your embrace;
How I long to caress your magnificent countenance,
Sculpted by forces far beyond that of mortal craft.
My love, perpetually captivated am I by the boundless expanse of your glittering eyes;
The sweet fragrance of your breath; How you complete me!
Darling, always will I be smitten with the kindness and compassion burning in your heart.
Eternity nor petty words are capable of describing my love for you.
And despite it all, why have you not appeared?
For you my beloved, I dedicate these lines;
To the paths that will one day cross.
My hand halted at the last line. It trembled, and the rest of my frame followed suit. A wave of emotion crossed me; one that I had not encountered since mortality. It was somewhat diluted due to the mortal component I lacked, yet still present. I fell to my knees, quivering. To whom had I written this to? Larxene? No. I had not an idea in the faintest. I could feel myself giving way, drowning in this damned pool of anguish and solitude. To what purpose did I exist, other than a heart? Who was I? Why was I subject to this gruesome fate? It mattered little now. My lids gave way, my breath with it. I fell to the stone floor of my chambers, letting my eyes flutter shut. If this were the end, so it was.
"Pour ceux qui vont mourir, nous vous saluons."