Emilia was pretty sure the cold air was supposed to invigorating. Or at least something along those lines. Something even slightly better than absolutely fucking awful would be great actually. Despite every precaution taken to bundle herself up as much as possible, because no she didn't really want to go hiking in the freezing cold in the middle of bloody nowhere North Yorkshire, her two pairs of ...

In your arms, I found my home,

In your eyes, I sank to depths unknown.

In your voice, I found my Muse,

And in turn I, Poet, paint you, Truth

In your image, I made art,

In your embrace, we made one heart.

Dido burned, and we might too,

To burn together, as Poet and Muse....