The Weight of Words.

Anyone in the lands knows, or can easily find out, how I view the usage of words. They are empty shells, needing to be filled lest they blow away with the winds. Actions do well to fill them, coin, of course, was my favorite.

"...I cannot remember when I began to fall in love with you..."

Those words needed no weight, I knew them to be true. Every moment we've spent together screams it, but I find myself unable to speak them back. Is it fear? It might be. Is it the uncertainty that comes with trusting another as wholly as I trusted Isolde? It very well is.

*The last lines are heavily marked through.*