"And that man, well… It's doubtful even I could bring justice to him by speaking about what he was like, but there's no vice in trying.
He was a midnight in hell, a violent vessel of blood that was full with flammable powder and devilishly strong wine. He was his own smoke and spice, with coal-black hair and just as fiendish smouldering eyes. If he wouldn't turn out to be a picture made by my own imagination then surely it was Morpheus himself that made this stranger, out of some dark clay and Elysium's tart berries.
A violent concoction of everything that was forbidden to mix. Brutal and gallant, vain and reverent, with a heavy fist wrapped in tenderness."
Most tender mien pulled out a compulsion to conclude this portrait out of my heart. For that I am evermore adoring, and evermore pulled apart by thankfulness~
Traces of my tenderness are drawn after you, oh idol of companionship:з
