I've had banners fabricated depicting your lovely fade, made of the finest materials. Now they grace the streets in Karnaca, each costing in silk and dye what a common family makes in three years. Whenever my people look up, it is your majestic face and piercing eyes they see. I want them to remember who guides their lives.
The great statue I've commissioned in your exact likeness is nearly ready in the Grand Palace. As my eyes rove along the curves of your body, molded in silver, I swear I find myself swelling with excitement. Sometimes I imagine climbing up until my face is pressed against those cold metal breasts. If only you will bring it to life, finding my bedchamber as I sleep. I shudder thinking about awakening in that silver embrace, knowing that it is you, holding me from afar, from your own bed in Dunwall Tower.
I miss you dearly, my Delilah, my lover from the past. I'm sending some of the banners to the Capital, so they can warm the lonely streets of Dunwall. When you see them, may they remind you of our love.