Bastien
Bastien had not realised the time that was passing as he worked - a common enough thing to happen in his life. He could get so caught up in the image, in tilting an element just one way or another, lifting something or adding a splash of colour; before he knew it he would look up and see the sky had turned dark without even letting him know.Eventually he would go upstairs to Rexanna (so quickly, it had become that a night was not complete if he could not hold her and tell her of his day) but after he cleaned up his brushes, he found himself not quite wanting to go up, not yet.
His feet instead took him to stand in the doorway and as his mind wandered, the Thought Player within began to play memories of Venetian Lutes, the tunes easy and flowing out of the door and just into the street, enough to be quietly audible to anyone walking along. Humming, he leaned against the doorframe and looked up to the moon, wondered how it was he'd gotten here in only a year.
What God doesn't give to you
You've got to go and get for yourself
