Pent Release

I'm not sure exactly what happened. It was like something sucked all the air out of the world and left this great void. It's not like I am not familiar with not finding my Master. Nor am I a stranger to His distances, or His moods. I am most often lost in my own starry rapture though; dreamy eyed and smitten. When I happened upon the Artisan though, and for a moment ...a very brief moment...heard that He had just been there.... everything stood still. Very quietly time froze. With a deep sigh all the air was gone. And in it's place was this profound...ache. Sounds ceased to exist, swallowed whole into a swirling vortex of silence, gathering all the noises into an empty step. Colors had faded around me, suckled into oblivion with the missing air, and all that was left was dirty red. An odd color to think of at a time like this. Not the vibrant heart of passion red, nor the burning heat of anger red. No sweet cherry, nor carnival crimson. A red fringed in black and bearing the name longing.

I felt something finally. The flush of color that flooded my cheeks. I had almost stuttered as I managed a smile to Seveya. It didn't make sense, this intense internal reaction. But it was there, and as real as the cool green blades of grass that stroked my thighs. It made me nervous, and when I am nervous I start to talk about safe things; as many as I can think of; and often in rapid succession.

First thing out of my mouth was about Him. Was He doing all right. Then I quickly asked about her as well. I was standing there lurching inside with such intense sensations while trying to talk to a woman who probably feels all that and a hundred times more.

We shared that He hadn't looked well of late, and listed a few things that might be contributing. That brought me to the whispers I had heard of the Ubara Cana. I offered some sort of help and hoped it wasn't contagious, and found myself again asking the Artisan if she was all right. I felt for a moment, ambivalent about her. Was she the source of Master's misery, or the answer and His comfort. I allowed that she easily could be both, for life is often messy and complicated. While I picked and sorted through feelings and thoughts I decided that it was she that brought out this vibrant, passionate, tender and possessive man. One I couldn't help but adore, my Hero unfettered by protective distance. One I truly liked. No, I wanted -her- to be okay. I wanted -it- the it that seemed intent on tearing them apart...to go away.

She was asking me what was wrong. I was a little shocked at the question, though I soon realized my consternation was worn on my face like a painted sign. I told her of the vulo, and as I did so, things finally began to settle inside of me. I was still talking - a lot - but backed up in the conversation to give more than lip service to her compliment. That, and her offer to help, were genuinely felt and I was likewise honestly grateful. Her ideas met mine and grew into something doable and we parted with warm laughter over visions of a slave wagon filled with vulo.

As I left, I suddenly had the urge to ask her questions, but as I turned back toward Sev something told me to wait. There would be a better time to do so. I had silver lining thinking going on now, feeling rather confident that the vulo problem would soon enough be righted. It had taken over and tackled the emotional barrage I had been feeling as well, labeling it and tucking them all into plausible explanations.

Whether it was the lingering essence of Him, or the emotional connection of mutual feelings, or the simple luxury of feeling and understanding all at the same time I wasn't sure. It didn't matter, though, in the big picture of things. The end result was the same - He was filling up every crevice I had and rather capably strumming depths I didn't know existed.