giuls

My Dearest Giuls,

I trust this missive finds thee in health and good humor, though, I confess, I dare say, I am not quite so sprightly as the morning dew upon the rose petals, for I have been much vexed of late, and find myself possessed by the strangest inclinations to set this errant tale to paper. A tale, I would surmise, that thou, my most cherished and ever-compelling companion, hast yet to hear from my lips, though it is high time the truth be revealed—nay, proclaimed from the mountaintops.

Permit me, then, to begin in the only manner befitting the gravity of the matter at hand: with due and unyielding honesty. It was, as I recall, thou who struck the first blow—oh yes, it was thee, my dearest, thou who instigated this wretched and delightful skirmish. I, poor soul, was simply caught in the tempest of thy wit, helpless to resist, and moreover, with no more desire than to defend myself and my honor. Yet, alas! Through the folly of my own heart, I find myself now accused, nay, slandered! By the very one who began the fray!

And so, it was that I, in my most earnest of attempts to defend my honor, responded with all the aplomb I could muster though, in truth, I fear it was but a feeble riposte compared to thy deftly delivered salvos. I was but a humble knight, forced to take up arms when my lady fair threw down her gauntlet with the flair of an accomplished swordswoman. I fought not because I wished to do harm (for I cherish thee far too much to harm thee, even in jest), but because, like the good and noble character I endeavor to be, I could do naught else but retaliate.

Let it not be said that I struck the first blow! No, Giuls, the responsibility for that lies squarely with thee! 

And so, my dear, let this letter serve as both a lament and a tribute, an acknowledgment that, whilst I may have been forced, nay, compelled, to respond, I do so not with malice, but with the fondest affection and the deepest admiration. For, as ever, it is thy brilliance that makes my own spark shine brighter, even if it does occasionally scorch my own pride.

Until our next merry clash, I remain thy humble servant in jest and truth,

Thine, ever and always,
Cameron

P.S. Might I add, dear Giuls, that in the future, it would be most kind of thee to refrain from tempting me so! For my poor heart, though sturdy, cannot always bear the strain of thy wicked words.