Forty Five Remedies (Death In A Cadence)

Hello, one. Two here, with a handwritten note for your eyes only:

Pledge to me to forever be my il distratto; scordatura.

Figure it out, my little dissonant Gondolier.

Yours Always,

the Queen of the Adriatic

Allow me to roll your dice for a moment, Sir, and can I have this danse macabre? There is a certain tragedy in knowing too much about a thing; the mystery will always make a thing beautiful. But if you want to know a secret (we all do) I will tell you one: there will always be magic in this place and it breathes in the infinitesimal space between skin touching skin; where the shadow persists and where the inaudible bays. That is my religion. And you, Criminal? You are my fallible god; my immortal beloved.