Watching the sun rise in east on this winter's day, already the place next to me aches to bask in your warmth. What was four years ago did our paths depart and still today absence agitates the loneliness. Gazing upon the immortalized still frames of our days together feel me not with that warmth, numbing sensation of your tenderness which even now leaves me in tears. Will your breathing visage grace what was once our home again, does your heart remain here at all, could it be lying next to me beating “I love you”?
Swiftly were those little things you once adored morphed to arduous chores, making me feel like a mindless automaton as I continue to carry them out. Day in and day out your Brothers attempt coerce me to leave my chosen post of remaining by a vacant side I can not stand by. Knowing you better than I do they strive to revitalize a smile now weathered and worn, and I know they do so with great intent.
Gently clutching that white feather you left in my hand our last night, having become a permanent part of my attire using the ring as it's clasp for necklace. Many that recognize the seal of your family's heirloom contort their faces appalled over my gross defilement of your bloodline's history, yet I know your Mother or Father would scorn or scold me. Never once did your Brothers protest the decision to change the heirlooms shape.
Lifting it to my lips to kiss the soft texture, continuing to radiate heat even after being separated from the source for so long. I chuckle for the first time in what feels like an eternity without a rain drop of happiness to drown out my sorrow. Desperate are my attempts to still discern why it was you left such a plain color and not another, was it a symbol of how hot our love burns; an unwavering colorless inferno? Were your thoughts treading the silk road of the Asian culture for white, being a brooding and lifeless color as if to say our time together has died?
Shutting my eyes in hopes to not watch my own self cry again, arms cradling across my belly to hug myself as I wish you would again. Please say I walk in a nightmare, a horrible machination of my fears of abandonment. Slowly viewing the world, hearing the unmistakable whimper of my own crying, looking out at the illuminated sky to meekly squeak out, “Rywho......please come back.”
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Something that I created after running over an old story segment of Rywho's history in my head. I always thought that aspects of his story need to be told from another perspective and bring to light certain things he himself can not see about who he is and how he acts. This little letter to him is by no means a true reflection of my current feelings of how I wish to modify the portrayal and reciting of his life.
Actually this was a letter in the making of about three months after running over old Role-Play logs, I was reminded that there was a segment of his personal life that remained unfinished. Sadly that portion of his life shall never have a true ending written in the words of the player. The two of us have gone our separate ways in life and I wish only the best for my old friend now.
I can safely say that I do have a renewed vigor to finish the Labyrinth Series and would enjoy actually getting the next part of it churned out relatively soon in fact. Those who have yet to go back and read it, please do I would really enjoy any sort of constructive feedback on the matter.

Rywho The Guardian Draphix, Forever holding the sword and shield.