Or a candle dancing on the breeze

"No... the stories they give you a concept of what a life should be in a perfect world," Osprey added, knowing well that her previous statement contradicted most of the ideas behind her stories. Love was not a foreign term in them, it appeared there in various shapes and forms. Yet Dante was true in concluding that a storyteller didn't necessarily have to believe in everything they said. People rarely sought truth in stories, more often they wanted something that could help them escape this world just for a while.

"I mean... the children's classic about a stolen princess, locked up in a dragon's lair and the prince that goes for the rescue, the love at first sight and they live happily ever after and all this nonsense," once she had loved these stories the most, but she had grown out of them in the end, when she proved that more often than not life threw average people or those, who wanted to take an advantage of you in your way and not charming princes, who were all good, white and fluffy.

"It doesn't happen in this life. Take my brother, for example, when I found him last year around this time - he was head over heels in Hawkeye. He was glowing, he was happy as a fool, then it just all disappeared one day and here he is not wanting to speak about her at all. How far did true love bring Blue willow? She was happy for a short while only to feel devastated later." That kind of love was a dangerous thing. She was sure of that.

"Happier? Maybe. I just don't think that, when it comes to having a family, this false belief that your love will last forever is enough," Osprey finished her long monologue.