waiting for you.

waiting for you.

Always ready for my close-up, even in the midst of battle… 
They say the cool heroes never look AT the explosions… right? 

Always ready for my close-up, even in the midst of battle… 

They say the cool heroes never look AT the explosions… right? 

I firmly insist that one has to look good even in battle. 

New outfit, ready to charm the men ladies. 

New outfit, ready to charm the men ladies. 

The city feels alive tonight. 

I made a new friend and travelling companion today. I’m sure there’s a height difference joke to be made somewhere here, but it might just fly over my head.

…Well, it’s been awhile. 
Let’s just say I’ve been a very good boy recently, not venturing out to do anything dangerous or illicit that would have my family in an uproar -

Except, well, oops. 

…Well, it’s been awhile. 

Let’s just say I’ve been a very good boy recently, not venturing out to do anything dangerous or illicit that would have my family in an uproar -

Except, well, oops

I don’t fire blanks… just so you know. ;) 

I don’t fire blanks… just so you know. ;) 

#character study; 01.

Were eyes indeed the windows to the soul? 

Those who chanced to glance upon Rilias could never be completely sure of it; they could only attempt wild and furtive guesses, frustrated by the fleeting glints of everything and nothing in his gaze, that for one moment could promise complete honesty and the next turn artfully hidden, cloaked in shadows and secrecy. More than one foolish maiden had swooned against the force of a single well-placed look, that altogether seemed beseeching and earnest, only to find herself mired in futile yearnings. For Rilias, despite the abundance of that strange, delicate brand of charm he could wield all too well in the midst of polite company, suffered little attention from such triflings. He was happier in solitude, and at his best within trusted confidences. 

Few understood him; those that did were spectators to a simple truth. Rilias, for all the liberal comforts and swaddlings of wealth that had been his all his life, had never quite grown accustomed to them - there remained the unspoken wonderings of his parentage that danced just out of reach, that beckoned discoveries and enlightenments both enticing and frightening. To his close friends (of which there were few, despite his good humour and general easy nature) he often laughed, merrily, and declared, with a twinkle in his eyes, that he should be pleased never to know his parents, that it was certain his good fortune at present were certainly his to deserve, and therefore all was as it should be. 

But still he wondered, and often his words went unbelieved, even to himself. Perhaps there remained some small part of his mind that doubted the legitimacy of his claim to the circles of the noble and wealthy elite, that were only his through the good intentions of the only family he knew. There was nothing to be said against this family, for they were, to the minds of all that knew them, a well-respected name, the echoes of which inspired smiles and well-wishes throughout the noble districts. The parents Rilias called his own doted upon him, and the fact that the youth displayed little likelihood in appearance to the rest of the household did little to assuage their adoration. 

Perhaps it was only to them, huddled in a peaceful recess away from the stirrings of the world beyond the gilded doors, that Rilias showed something more of himself, something that echoed beyond his usual facade of deception; it was only to them, and to his sister, that his self was revealed. Only here, hidden from society, did his smile turn softer, charm wavering and then melting away into real, genuine pleasure. Only here was his laughter unbridled, only here did his green-hued gaze reflect, for a dancing moment that passed altogether too quickly, the doorway to his soul, tucked away somewhere deep within him, that sang for no man and that yet yearned to be lifted and drawn up, into the glimmering light. 

My dear man, I specifically requested the finest of your house bubblies, not this mud-coloured swill that makes my tongue feel as if it’s been caressed most lovingly with liquid sandpaper. 

My dear man, I specifically requested the finest of your house bubblies, not this mud-coloured swill that makes my tongue feel as if it’s been caressed most lovingly with liquid sandpaper