Open Fields of Grace

"Languages...the great puzzle. I am fluent in both Italian and French, but here that means nothing, hm?" Bastien still wasn't entirely sure how everyone here could understand each other, with all the different tongues from different lands...yet they did. Perhaps he could find the books in the Atheneum and discover he could read those. "I suppose that is true enough. I am judging the warmth of the Venice Summer to the cold of the Winter here." Though truthfully, he didn't know if he believed the drab greys of this place could ever bring themselves to be bright and radiant with warmer seasons. It would be seen as time went on, he supposed. Speaking of his past always made him a little melancholic, now. Bastien sat back, leaned on his hands and just listened to Kalt play for a while, existing in a peaceful quiet with him which was saved from being awkward by the soft notes of the guitar. He watched the flowers and grass sway in the wind, noted how the music was picked up by the breeze. It was the pastoral ideal, beautiful and easy. After spending a good amount of time enjoying the tune and the surroundings, he left Kalt to it, thanking him for the songs and conversation. He walked back through the fields to the fading notes of the guitar, happy to know there were others here with songs in their hearts. BASTIEN This tiresome desire to shock and amaze Perhaps I’ll grow out of it one of these days