Define: Sabotage

As fate would have it, the fête was in fact a music festival. I was unaware of such festivities, it was Krist with his worldly understanding that identified the gathering as such. Why, with a fleeting glance at the scattered leaflets he rattled off names of colleagues I wouldn’t know to associate with the arts of music.
 
I’ve kept one of the discarded scraps of paper, I mean to show it to Davdon on my return - I wonder if he ever came across such an event in his past.
 
And as we walked through the green we learnt of tryst between Krist and his fellow musicians. Neither Allie, Bree nor myself were terribly familiar with such an engagement and my first thoughts were of marriage, but on reflection I wonder if it was simply a shared love.
 
How open and bold of him to share that with us, I hope his heart has healed from their separation.
 
On our approach we spotted a group goading a woman and me, of all people, managed to talk one of them down! I’ve never been able to talk down a slug from a foxglove, so I nearly fell over at his reception!
 
The woman, we came to realise, was called Ember. She spoke of a ‘marvelous’ spiritual group. I should not have judged, I honestly shouldn’t have, but something about her mannerisms caused the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end. In truth, she put me on edge for a good while, not that I dare say that to spoil my beloveds’ moods.
 
Regardless, she was shooed away by Bobson: the proprietor of the festival.
 
Between his salesmanship and encouragement we ended up with a matching set of outfits.
 
How splendid! A dress in moss green with words emblazoned onto it, what a novel concept! Naturally I changed into it the moment everyones’ eyes were averted.
 
As we were browsing the festival, and tucking into some rather fine cheese bread, Krist spotted his band (Musgiorin) and (I suppose) his lovers.
 
We all heard his story and I could sense his anger. Yet I feel I was the only one who didn’t support him in his designs for sabotage. Am I incorrect in its definition? Is it not the deliberate act of destruction and damage?
 
What wide divide stands here
A crevasse of aching
I’m a relic on an island
f l o a t i n g
Out into the cold depths
But they’re warm when you’re in them
 
There is much I have yet to understand, perhaps civilised life is beyond me.
 
The ‘sabotage’ turned out to be less destructive than I had anticipated and instead, dispelling the mirages of his lovers, Krist took to the stage and performed his own music. I think this was a fitting way for him to represent his emotions.
 
After the performance we retired to a secret tent whereupon Kirst, opened by recent events, shared his past. The death and 100 year estrangement of his father, the moneylending and exile from his home. What a sad past… I can’t imagine not speaking with my father for 100 years, the very thought brings tears to my eyes (I’m certain the smoke here will dispel any suspicions).
 
My dear friends have been through things I cannot comprehend, but by learning this I’ve grown a little.
 
My quickness to judge does me no good, like little flowers trying to bloom I must do better to protect them all.
 
Allie, a little vibrant cornflower swaying in the breeze. Bree a soft periwinkle hidden in a thicket. Skodrun, a lively poppy; bold and bright. And dear Krist, the hardy lavender grown in harsh climates but soothing those at its expense.
 
If I could only give you all a garden in which to grow.