Gone with the wind

April came, and its strange dynamic where light time grew from nearly an hour per day. The sun didn't manage to keep my mood, for Tristan had to embark to Bavière.

I brought him to the airport, a little depressed, but excited as well. In three weeks, I would be joining him on set for the Easter break. And, to my greatest pleasure, this movie was an adaptation of my favourite book. The three musketeers.

As Tristan kissed my tears away – Yeah, I had become quite addicted to his presence – he tried to lift my spirits.

“Did you hear that Viggo Mortensen only accepted the role or Aragorn because his son was a fan of the Lord of the Rings ?”

“Ah, no, I didn’t know.”

His warm hands curled at my nape.

“Well. Think of it this way. I took that one because of you, min älskling. It will make a souvenir, right ?”

The idea made me laugh, and I found the strength to smile again.

“Well, and you love playing with swords, don’t you?”