Sven's Hands

As the weeks and days count down toward Opening Night of the first season's Theatre Productions, Marius' days become longer and longer that he is away at work. The rehearsals for Actors are far more grueling than they are for Musicians, and I am home increasingly more ahns per day than he is. I've begun to miss him.

Too, Asia has been counting down her days that she will return to Thanta Isle. She says she will be returning, but I fear that may not be the case once she arrives there. Leda and Capriel work the Vineyards from sunrise to sunset everyday of the hand and I rarely see either of them anymore, either.

Once again I find myself dreaming of Sven's hands. They are warm and gentle, flecked with dark charcoal and paint beneath his nails that gives them a somewhat dirty appearance upon first glance. I have not laid eyes upon the Artist since before we set sail for the mainland and headed to the Sardar Mountains, and I find myself again, ever increasingly longing for his company in my own lonliness.

Marius has not expressly forbidden me to see Sven, but I know he does not care for these Bohemian types who live transient, migratory lives, roving from city to city, island to island. I however, think he is overly judgemental and harsh.

Sven is.. like no other.
Kind and with a zest for life.
Brilliant. Talented.
Breathtakingly handsome.
And mine.