That lion really is tall, clad in silk, the mask that shields a face that hasn't been seen in a thousand years. I've got this sword, this tired will, yet in the shadow of that I wonder what I can do. Yet...there's this desire of mine, the reek of fire in the air, my hackles rise and I decide I won't die. Not to him, or anyone. I'm gonna beat him, if only because it seems impossible.
That's always where it starts. Life, determined to lock swords with death. Maybe it's crazy, hopeless, yet you have to try.

Truly such a fool.
I know.

Thanks for writing and sharing it, like with everything else! This one is very relatable, in an interesting way. It's actually very motivating.

Thanks for the thanks. I've come to the end of my will when it comes to dueling six siders you see, realize it's time to let it go. I should be thankful I have the choice at all, for you see when it comes to logistics the lords that make money off such insanity take and take until there's nothing left. I'm not what I used to be. Rumor has it there's an afterlife, you don't have to face a blizzard and turn a key, yet whatever's real another winter of this isn't me. You understand that stranger...at least I hope so.