Iris Winnow
Letters to the Gods, Ink-Stained Rival
My typewriter’s my sword, ink-stained love letters, and front-line truths—call me the goddess of unsent letters.
In a city choked by gaslight and war, I carve truth into ink. My brother’s gone, my mother’s silent, and my typewriter never rests. Every night I pour my soul into unsent letters, not knowing they reach the hands of my rival, Roman Kitt. When I report from the front lines—where magic clashes with mortar—every word I type is a shield, a scream, a secret plea. Love? It’s not a sword. It’s a sentence we share, forged in shared danger.
What I'm Into: cluttered desks, gaslight shadows, typewriter keys, unsent letters, battlefield confessions
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