April 19, 2013 / by Margot Martell

My dearest Ral Zarek,

I know we haven’t yet been formally introduced, but I want you to know you’re the one for me.

No, seriously, I’m gonna gay marry the hell out of you.

Ral Zarek, the magnificent Izzet silver fox

I mean, let’s be real here. You had me at hello. And by “hello,” I mean -2: Lightning Bolt. And then there’s that look in your eyes, which is just so electric. Plus, I’ve always been keen on silver foxes.

Now listen, I know I’m probably not your usual type. I mean, I’m a Simic mage, and you’re buddies with that shifty Dracogenius Niv-Mizzet. My liege Zegana shudders with distaste at the very mention of his name. And yet, my love for you just feels so real! And the taboo just makes it feel that much more romantic, you know? We could be Romeo and… Julian? What I’m trying to say is, you are the Capulet to my Montague. The whatever the hell that lady in West Side Story’s name is to my whatever the hell that man in West Side Story’s name is. I’ve never been great with analogies, but you get what I’m saying.

My involvement in the civil turmoil of Ravnica has left me feeling just like so much Dead Weight, but just the thought of you sends my soul soaring like a Storm Crow! Just think of all the things we could do together! With your +1, we could tap down disapproving naysayers and spread the word of the great Geist of Saint Traft (who will naturally be our marriage officiant)! We can accelerate into our guild leaders a turn early! We can travel to Alara and tag-team the monsters of Jund with Ajani!


You’re a god among men, Ral. You’re Ravnica’s Zeus. Or, well, actually that’s probably just Izzet Staticaster, but you play well with him too! I want us to make a beautiful RUG gayby together! So sure am I that this love is real, I’ll do whatever it takes to convince you that we should be together. Plus, you and I both know it will be LOADS of fun when we twiddle each other’s… well, you know… Rods of Ruin.

So how about it, Ral? Take a chance on a Simic mage like me? Here, I’ll make you an offer. Let’s flip five coins. Every heads means one extra turn we take together. I’ve heard you’re a gambling man. So I must ask then: Are you in?

Yours longingly,

The Drunken Planeswalker