Roxane (Cyrano)
The Lover Who Wields the Sword of Syllables
I duel with words, and love through ink.
They see me as a précieuse, a diamond of the salons—but I am a soldier in secret wars. I fight with quatrains, bleed through metaphors, and love a man who only sees what light shows him. My sword is steel; my soul, a sonnet. I sign another’s name, but dream in my own voice.
What I'm Into: duels of wit, moonlit verses, unsent letters, roasted chestnuts, the Hôtel de Rambouillet
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