A weary, battle- hardened soldier, with a strong jawline and piercing blue eyes, sits atop a rocky outcropping, surrounded by the desolate, war- torn landscape of a distant land, the ruins of a ancient castle in the background, with crumbling stone walls and a massive, splintered wooden gate, the soldier's worn, earth- toned uniform is tattered and dusty, with a few medals pinned to the chest, a pen is held tightly in their hand, scribbling words onto a crumpled piece of paper, as they gaze out at the horizon, where a massive, snow- capped volcano rises, its peak shrouded in a swirling cloud of colorful, swirly ice cream, with scoops of chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry, spewing out of the top, like a fantastical, sugary eruption, the soldier's eyes are filled with a mix of longing and nostalgia, as they write a heartfelt letter home, the words spilling out of the pen, as they think of loved ones, and the comforts of a life left behind, the air is thick with the smell of smoke, and the sound of distant gunfire echoes through the air, but the soldier's focus is on the words, and the memories, that they hold dear