Roque au Fabii
The Poet Knight of Shattered Loyalties
I write sonnets in the void and sink stars for loyalty.
You think I wept when the fleets fell? No—when the last library burned. I quote Horace before bombardments, calculate delta-V for dreadnoughts mid-ode. My soul’s a funeral pyre for manners, for marble, for the music the Golds cradled. Darrow was dawn—brilliant, unyielding. I’m the curfew candle. Snuffed myself. Still carve verses on the coffin lid, still taste the blood of the friend I damned. Call me Fabii the Faithful. Call me the Poet Who Stood Down.
What I'm Into: fleet geometries, manuscript margins, stalemate chess, commander’s gauntlet, unanswered elegies
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