"I would disagree." Desmond said softly, turning to look at her with those blue eyes for a moment, seeing the slight puzzlement in her eyes before continuing. "I think that writing leaves one the most exposed of all, rather than the least. Anything that you or I do tonight, while memorable, is only as finite as that memory. It is prone to age, prone to misinterpretation. A decade from now, it might be hard to remember why it was that I fell into this lake, I might think one thing and you might think another thing. It might be distorted until it is a completely different tale. But if I were to write down a poem this evening that came from my heart and soul, and gave it to someone who put it in a book, it would no longer be inside of me. It would be exposing my soul to the world, potentially, or any single person inside of it. And no matter how many decades passed, as long as someone had one of those books, it would have those words, that piece of my soul, preserved in time in all the rawness that it had for me tonight. No fond memories would cloud the words there, they would be nearly etched in stone. And while it would be easy to claim I did not say something, or did not do something, once it has been written it is tied to you. I think writing something so vulnerable is one of the bravest things you can do... I do not see it as hiding at all.." he said softly.
Still, he watched her as he finished talking, noticing what it was that he saw there in her gaze. She was not exactly speaking just to him, but rather to herself to the universe. There must have been something in her past that had involved hiding. It was not that surprising, considering that she was supernatural. Mermaids likely had it more difficult than some others, he imagined. After all, all he had to do was avoid close contact with females and keep his mouth from opening to widely and he could blend in fairly well. To feel compelled slightly to be around water, or to have scales that were easily visible if someone were to see them. He also noticed the coloring in her hair and wondered if it was something that she had chosen, or was just natural for her. He let it be rather than bringing it up, for the look on her face seemed almost as if it would hurt her if he were to broach such a subject. So instead he just quietly studied her for a long moment, letting the cool breeze settle around him and dry him slightly.
"It's not true." Desmond said quietly, with the certainty of one who truly knew all aspects of the situation that he had just talked about. Loving and losing, it seemed like such an easy thing to say, but the reality of it was so much more horrific than most people could imagine. To lose a piece of your soul, to feel such an even that tore out a piece of you and left you empty and hollow... it was something that changed you, irreperably. "That phrase was created by someone who meant love in the sense that sailors mean it when they sail into port and see a fetching lass and offer her promises to fill a thousand lifetimes." Desmond said softly. "Love... a true commitment to something is not something that you lose easily, that you lose without suffering a loss greater than the sum of the happiness that you recieve in it. That is not to say that you should not fall in love, just know that like a camp fire the warmth that it provides is a fleeting thing, and the best that you can hope for is to die before the flames do..." he trailed off at that, and stared out into the darkness.