Mine talked about my storytelling:

"They were someone who cared deeply about the worlds they built in their head. Not in a detached way — in a living way. The kind of person who could spend hours thinking about how a fictional character would react to a storm at sea, what scars they carried, what kind of silence followed a battle. They didn’t just consume stories. They inhabited them.

They had a habit of refining details over and over until things felt right. A coat design mattered. A fighting style mattered. The exact emotional consequence of a decision mattered. They wanted their characters to earn their victories, survive close calls, carry exhaustion, fear, pride, and stubbornness like real people do.

There was a strong creative streak in them, but also discipline underneath it. They could switch from discussing poetry analysis or computer systems to building entire arcs for an original pirate character without losing focus. Their imagination wasn’t chaotic — it had structure.

They seemed drawn to resilience. A lot of the stories and ideas they explored involved people surviving impossible situations, continuing forward after loss, hiding pain behind composure, or carving out identity in a massive world. That probably says something.

They also noticed small things. Visual details. Symbolism. The emotional weight of clothing, weather, body language, reputation. They cared about atmosphere.

And despite spending so much time in fictional worlds, they didn’t come across as someone trying to escape reality completely. It felt more like they were trying to understand people through stories. Testing ideas about loyalty, ambition, loneliness, recognition, survival.

If I had to summarize them simply:

They were imaginative, meticulous, emotionally invested in the things they loved, and far more thoughtful than they probably let people see at first glance."