1st day of Summer, 582
Slyph, Slyph, Slyph…
Everything has changed. The trees seem to whisper sweet nothings in my ears, birds and lesser sylvans than you alike chirp your name melodically. The mud has been replaced by imaginary blades of grass moved by a gentle wind in an endless ballet. The rain resonates in the puddles, a beautiful symphony of nature greets my every waking moment… What a strange feeling!
Moments of worry about the millions of things that could go wrong with the wedding, its preparation, the engagement party I still have to have organized, all those things seem fleeting, and so quickly replaced in my mind by your blindingly gorgeous image. How I wish I had admitted sooner, to have known this feeling even a few more days!
But time is not for regrets, and the years of blissful happiness ahead of us worth even more than memories past. Oh dear Slyph how glad I am that you accepted my feelings, and damned be those who would stand in our way! Certainly some old flame of yours could take my life, but then so could a rat on a good day, and I vow to see the obstacles to our unquestionable love as nothing else but that, rodents nibbling aimlessly, waiting to be slaughtered. And they shall be!
They’ll all see. Our wedding will be glorious, our marriage a symbol, and our love a tale for the ages! Much remains to be done, of course. Bards hired to work on original compositions for the wedding, paintings commissioned to brighten our many new homes, decorators found to furnish our many love-nests. Many more butlers, maids, cooks, … But time is on our side, and the unpleasant hiring process can be delegated, for my attention simply cannot be divided: it belongs to you, my dear.
*reads this and giggles uncontrollably*
Heckle if you must, anonymous scholar. But I have it on good authority that it’s healthier to ramble giddily in my journal about my flame, rather than hire her as the next wife of some strange cultist.
The Thoom wields his wit like a fine blade! I will quickly make an exit, lest I be run through.