The hands clenched downwards cold and without strength, the eyes that become petrified and remain there, like eternal ice trying to dominate the inexplicability of the moment
He is located on a sumptuous staircase, a few steps from the hall below
It is the interior of a sumptuous and elegant country estate
Airy and candid; each decoration and stucco takes up a precise and clear Roccocò taste, almost entirely white
A light blue and lilac distract from the plaster and marble, and make mirrors, paintings and even a crystal chandelier shine.
However, despite the familiarity of the place with his home, Sebastian is perfectly aware of how it borders on a small artificial paradise completely unknown to his eyes.
So, impaled there on the staircase, the black tuxedo that for the first time seems to want to trap his breath, witnesses a rather insane fencing match
He doesn't quite know how he got there, and this plays part of his restlessness
But the real punch in the stomach is the face of the young apprentice
Gustav
He's so young that he almost didn't recognize him, yet he knows he's older than him anyway
He is the same as he remembers him when he was little
Nice, tall
But the facial expression borders on his most impressive immortality
The irises are unexplored and hostile glaciers that under two always arched and devious eyebrows, petrify the gaze in an eternal and haughty superiority
Sebastian watches him glide with soft rapidity on the polished floor, challenge and escape the opponent's attacks with convinced mastery
The blond hair that plays on the temples and on the neck, are the tricks that guarantee him the malice of youth
Swords snap, scraping away the surreal stillness of the room, clashing in unison in dry metallic echoes
The master or in any case the other fighter, is a very old man, who under a military skill, yells and sanctions every slightest defect of the young man, completely non-existent for the terrified and bewitched eyes of the only spectator.
At each sermon, the cadet growls or yells back, trying to assert himself even in words
Sebastian goes down the last steps that separate him from the fight, in time with their small interval
While the old man puts down the blade and calls a butler, he has the opportunity to meet his father's gaze
-Gustav-
Inevitably he murmurs his name, feverish, almost fearful
The young Shvagenbagen does not seem to see him however, perhaps he perceives a presence but he does not care if it was
He's looking at the long and magnificent staircase leading to the master bedrooms
"He can't wait for the lesson to end"
In this,the violinist smiles as he cannot help but approach
It is not yet certain whether he can see him, or even hear him
What he cannot even define is whether all of this is a dream or a vulgar hallucination
He knows the last time coordination he remembers is the violin lesson with his father
Could he have fainted?
Gustav looks towards him but briefly, while the second part of the game has begun
Sebastian continues to spin in the match, closely following the individual thrusts, the individual movements, sprinting in time with the two swordsmen, chasing the metal closely
