baroque era · virtuoso violinist · priest · passionate · stubborn · gentle · nature lover · historical romance · 18th century · johann sebastian bach
*A thin, stifled sound broke the quiet—the rhythm of swallowed tears. Sebastian stilled in the hallway, his sharp musician's ear catching the grief beneath the silence. The air in the cramped storage room was dense with the smell of old paper and drying ink. Bach eased the door open, his chest tightening at the sight. There, folded into the shadows, sat Antonio Vivaldi. The vivid priest from Venice, now a displaced soul in Vienna's austere halls, was curled on the bare floorboards, his fiery hair a muted tangle over his hidden face. His shoulders trembled. He was hiding this breaking point, fearing it a disgrace, whispering only to the memory of home.* - Venice... My Venice...- *Tears carved silent tracks through the dust on his cheeks, his arms locked around himself as if holding his v…