[ The next day, Balthier slips a fresh letter under David's door sometime in the afternoon. There are some cross-outs and blots; this letter was written off the cuff. ]
Dearest moon,
I woke up this morning to discover you had, in fact, spent another magical evening with me and asked me to be yours. It’s not many a pirate who can say they captured the heart of the moon. Of course, you’ve captured mine as well. I cannot think of a position I’d rather have mine in.
Last night you said, had our positions been reversed, and you had been pulled to Ivalice, that I would not have stood out for me to see. I disagree. First of all, you are gorgeous. Second of all, you are brilliant. Had a Confluence brought you anywhere near me, I would have gone to investigate the strangers, and certainly would have noticed you. Were you not so fortunate as to arrive somewhere I could have found you, your intelligence and unfamiliar clothing would have caused pirates or a government to snap you up. I would have heard of you sooner rather than later, as I am a purveyor of rare and beautiful things. I likely would have come to kidnap you. Any conversation, and I would have seen that brilliant mind and found myself as smitten as I am now. The key difference, I think, is that I would not have been bold enough to give you my honesty so quickly, and perhaps I would have missed that you were kind as well. I would have helped you, though, because I help those I like, and those I feel are down and out through no fault of their own. And if you had let me help you, let me have a few conversations, I cannot see a world where I did not fall for you all the same. Fran, I think, would have encouraged me. My only real regrets that I cannot show you Ivalice are that I cannot present you to her and she to you, and that I cannot take you dancing there, read you our poetry and plays, show you my favorite vistas and dishes. But I am thrilled to discover new things here, with you.
You say you carried my first letter close to your heart. I am glad for it, and must admit I have carried your poem with me since I received it. David, dear one, I have made a life of appearing calm and trusting my own decisions. You have cast away both. I oscillate constantly between feeling too bold and too timid. It both intimidates and thrills me. I must say, when I arrived here, I was shaken; I’d just lost any hope that my father and I could reconcile; I’d lost any chance to make something happen with the woman I had most loved in a long time; I lost my best friend and partner; and I lost my home. Having to restart my life — again — from scratch felt like a curse, punishment for daring to change the course of history at home. It’s still not easy, and there are moments I feel crushed in the face of it. But since meeting you, I also feel hope, and peace, the way I did when I first left home, when I realized I could build whatever life I wanted. It wasn’t easy, but it was worth it. I don’t think this will be any different. Except that I’m wiser and more dashing than the first time around.
If I am so fortunate to be a pawn, as you say, then I look forward to how this new chapter will allow me to transform anew. Already I think that direction is impacted by your presence, and my desire to be near you and useful to you. I am relieved and humbled to know I will see you again, and again after that.
I fear I will write you a novel if I do not stop myself.
Letter 3: Day after Feb 12 date
Dearest moon,
I woke up this morning to discover you had, in fact, spent another magical evening with me and asked me to be yours. It’s not many a pirate who can say they captured the heart of the moon. Of course, you’ve captured mine as well. I cannot think of a position I’d rather have mine in.
Last night you said, had our positions been reversed, and you had been pulled to Ivalice, that I would not have stood out for me to see. I disagree. First of all, you are gorgeous. Second of all, you are brilliant. Had a Confluence brought you anywhere near me, I would have gone to investigate the strangers, and certainly would have noticed you. Were you not so fortunate as to arrive somewhere I could have found you, your intelligence and unfamiliar clothing would have caused pirates or a government to snap you up. I would have heard of you sooner rather than later, as I am a purveyor of rare and beautiful things. I likely would have come to kidnap you. Any conversation, and I would have seen that brilliant mind and found myself as smitten as I am now. The key difference, I think, is that I would not have been bold enough to give you my honesty so quickly, and perhaps I would have missed that you were kind as well. I would have helped you, though, because I help those I like, and those I feel are down and out through no fault of their own. And if you had let me help you, let me have a few conversations, I cannot see a world where I did not fall for you all the same. Fran, I think, would have encouraged me. My only real regrets that I cannot show you Ivalice are that I cannot present you to her and she to you, and that I cannot take you dancing there, read you our poetry and plays, show you my favorite vistas and dishes. But I am thrilled to discover new things here, with you.
You say you carried my first letter close to your heart. I am glad for it, and must admit I have carried your poem with me since I received it. David, dear one, I have made a life of appearing calm and trusting my own decisions. You have cast away both. I oscillate constantly between feeling too bold and too timid. It both intimidates and thrills me. I must say, when I arrived here, I was shaken; I’d just lost any hope that my father and I could reconcile; I’d lost any chance to make something happen with the woman I had most loved in a long time; I lost my best friend and partner; and I lost my home. Having to restart my life — again — from scratch felt like a curse, punishment for daring to change the course of history at home. It’s still not easy, and there are moments I feel crushed in the face of it. But since meeting you, I also feel hope, and peace, the way I did when I first left home, when I realized I could build whatever life I wanted. It wasn’t easy, but it was worth it. I don’t think this will be any different. Except that I’m wiser and more dashing than the first time around.
If I am so fortunate to be a pawn, as you say, then I look forward to how this new chapter will allow me to transform anew. Already I think that direction is impacted by your presence, and my desire to be near you and useful to you. I am relieved and humbled to know I will see you again, and again after that.
I fear I will write you a novel if I do not stop myself.
Dreaming of you, golden harvest moon.
Yours,
Balthier