Well, it seems your impassioned soliloquy has struck a chord within the regal Princess of the Night. Luna remains silent, though you notice the way her feathery wingtips give the faintest of agitated twitches. "So, thou doth profess," she murmurs at length, each syllabic footfall precise and measured as if treading upon tightropes. "An all-consuming ardor to bind thy ephemeral flame with Our eternal light."