gloved fingers dragged down his tired face,
his usually curled up hair hanging limply in front
of his eyes where there was a certain dullness—
oh, how he didn’t sleep that night! haunted by
nightmares of the past, a past he’d rather forget.
yet, perhaps, it was best that he remembered.
he looked over at his personal journal, reaching
out to grab it and drag it into his lap. part of him
wondered if his writings would ever compare to
that of alternis’—but he was alternis, right? it had to.
and that meant his feelings for a certain girl were
just as strong.
to hear her whisper his name, to feel the soft caress
of her hand, it’s all ringabel wanted, all he needed.
to bask in the warmth of her love, a love that would
never come. he knew from the start it would be un-
requited, tragic as it may be, but it was something
he grew to accept.
"edea lee…" he murmured, the chair creaking as he
moved, one leg crossing over the other. looking pen-
sive, pen pressed to his lips, he cast his gaze out the
"how would one begin to describe edea lee?”