If you have to go, go with my blessing
So that blessed you will be
Through every trial be safe from danger
And soon return to me
Since Alonzo has left Fidapolis, Greg has been spending his days sitting on the castle walls looking across the city in the direction of Antipolis. The sun doesn't feel as warm as it used to just a few days ago when every thought of the future was a thought of Alonzo and every thought of Alonzo set his heart aflutter like bombelites flocking towards a bowl of sugar water.
The future had become much shorter since then. It stretched out before him only one day at a time, days at whose end would be the return of Alonzo. For each day that his husband didn't return he begrudgingly added another and at dawn returned to his vigil. Every thought of the future was still a thought of Alonzo, but in his absence the fluttering bombelites turned ashen and tore at Greg's heart with sharp claws and beaks full of teeth.
On the second day, he brought his lute with him. Not only did it seem like a good way to pass time and maybe gather his thoughts a little, as a bard he also knew about the power of music. Most people have experienced the power of music on a personal level - the way it can express what mere words fail to describe, the way that while the sound travels through the air, another part of the music travels directly from heart to heart. But Greg also knew about the fundamental magic that connects music to existence itself, that can create and destroy and transform.
It didn't take long until he gave himself over to it completely and the thoughts that had been echoing in his mind ever since he had ended his letter to Alonzo with them came spilling out with a passion that willed them into existence:
I miss you. I love you. Be safe. Come back.