In a thousand years, when I’ve all but forgotten how to love yet again, you’ll flit back into my heart, and I’ll weep, wondering what happened to my mad love.

Like moons make swell and wane the nescient seas, so too the sky-strewn gods ordain the tidal fates of mortal days. And yet - a notion born in lonely hours - come ebb, come flow, come all that is beyond the breadth of our dominion: be a moon unto yourself. Even the waves of fate can break upon the shores of will.

I've taken more pleasant shits than you, Mizora.

I want to wake up beside a handsome virgin every morning, but life doesn't give us what we want.

The alliance is reforged, mortal. The planes thus quake, and the gods shudder.