I is for Isolde

Strong, stalwart, with sensitive fingers

You chose to be a warrior, not an artist

To protect the woman you desire

Wandering at her side through an enchanted world

Standing between Amberwyne and her mistress

Following a trail of Fidessa’s mischiefs

Scattered in traps, born by mysterious strangers

Banishing whatever nightmares have taken human form

This was your purpose, your truth

Until Amberwyne’s vision called it all into question

Claiming that The Players Are the Thing

Strange maidens in another world, your creatrixes

In thrall to their dark Gamemaster

Deciding your fates with a roll of the die

Your existence can’t be as arbitrary as that

Only sometimes you hear the cry of your creatrix

Frustrated girl, floundering and finding her voice in fantasy

Perhaps your purpose is to guide that voice

As you once guided the chisel to shape stone

You’re sculpting new ideas, a new existence, a new identity

Possibilities she can try on, flirt with, to alleviate her frustration

Shaping her as she once shaped you

Whispering through dice and dreams

Guiding her to an elusive happiness through imagination. 

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