Dearest O;

I've spent the last two days without much word from you. I know there isn't much to talk about when you're holed up in a motel all day with little to distract you. But the silence is eating away at me.

My wrists aren't helping my mood, either. It hurts to clutch things, to gripe things, not a lot but enough that my usual routine of mindless game play isn't proving so mindless. Realistically i know you can't do anything to make the pain go away, any more than E could - but at least you would be able to distract me.All E wants to do (can do, yet) is playing games on his computer, or play games in bed the latter of which is generally undesirable any more than 'strictly' necessary to keep up the charade'.

I missed seeing you last week, and the knowledge of that is eating away at my mood like a cancer. With pain in the wrists i'm finding it hard to find tasks to occupy my mind. My moods are spiralling at music, so i've reduced how much i listen, random songs have me in tears because they either remind me of you, sound like you, or i started listening to it because of you. So glad it's almost bedtime, i can slip away to bed, read for a bit than drift into the forest and run with the wolves.

Dreams once again, are my solice..not because of the dragon sheltering there, but because of hazel eyes just out of reach.

Love and light, my imzadi.. i miss you, intensely.