The hands of the Prince grasped the edge of the window, anxious to climb it and fall onto her balcony as he once used to do to aid with her beautiful sound… and he inhaled… deeply the frisky breeze of an Autumn night… inspired by the picture in his mind of the beloved resting below.
"I'm… overjoyed to know you are there… so close… that my hand could easily touch, even if slightly, your wonderous figure… smooth skin… solely if blessed by the gods…" — Immersed in the depths of the romance, Zeleskiaz's conflicted entrancement frowned to the restraint he was told to keep, closing his lids wishing to obey as he believed would do good for the beloved… yet resigning to the selfishness of a deep craving. — "No… I cannot wait for a blessing… much less until tomorrow."
