We have tasted the warmth of passion for the first time since the departure of the Fallen One. Its tender sweetness has almost been lost on our tongue.

The Traveler has impacted us more than we thought possible, such intensity should not be present from such a brief encounter.

With each drop of ink upon our pages, the desire in our heart becomes increasingly difficult to quell.

Why does she affect us so?

We have walked on this path of isolation with caution, guarding our heart with fire and brimstone, vowing that none shall claim it for the eternity to come.

Yet it all crumbled...with just a glance.

It is both beautiful and terrifying.

We fumble with our words in her presence, unable to form praises to give justice to the Traveler.

Alone we stood with the Traveler, feeling our hands tremble at the desire to brush against her own.

So many words unspoken, so many feelings unexpressed.

How fleeting our time was together, yet how lasting her impression.

We are struck with sorrow over the emotions we feel. Verily they are symbols of weakness within most.

The mind is plagued by whispers of dissent, clawing and tearing at the walls that shout them out like the ravage beasts that they are.

We desire nothing more than to contain the fire burning within us until she graces us with our presence once more. It is a flame that is unnatural, fueled by our shortcomings, that burns our very being.

Passion be ******.

Yet as we reminisce over what memories we share, there is a joy like no other.

There is admiration of her.

There is laughter...laughter where there was once cold silence.

*Passion be Praised.