[Duke Paolo is a menace. Whispers the aristocrat that has a bigger living quarters for her cat than her servants. She's had to take less outings to the Antivan district, because her husband claims taxes were raised higher for "restoring the rat's districts, or something or other." Duke Paolo is a blessing! Cries the beggar, now housed where the bloodflies won't sting. The Grand Guard have not beaten him in weeks, and he's planning to join the ranks of the Howlers in the coming week. Duke Paolo is an enigma. Says both sides of the silver coin, and that much rings true. Whether he's painted as dark as the soot of the mines, or the bright golds that rival the sanctity of the Abbey, no one can quite capture an image that properly represents his authority.
Not even the man himself. Paolo's replaced Abele's art with his own, but with how shoddy, crooked, and beaten the frames are, it does not sit right against the wall. With how cushy the seat, he does not sit well on the throne, constantly maneuvering himself only to rise out of it entirely. Like the shores of the Palace, his comfort was ever-shifting, fleeting thing, after the blood ran dry as was wiped clean from marble. In place of Abele's carnal indulgences, Paolo took great pleasure in seeking out those loyal to Abele, to reducing them to a simpering pile of rot that pledge empty allegiances, only to rip the air from their lung for their weakness. Paolo took great pleasure in basking in the wealth he once believed unattainable by the anchor that was his birth status. Paolo took great pleasure in knowing he was safe, secure.
The pleasures have passed. No matter how wide the bed, he's had nothing but sleepless nights and busy mornings to the point his head spins, grounded only by Mindy in the fewer instances she's been at his side. He's yet to open the Palace doors to delegates, barons, and he's yet to make an opening statement regarding his plans for the future of Karnaca. The passion and charisma he once showed that mysterious out-of-town stranger has been all but put out under the weight of paperwork, which he currently is seated behind. He was already on the cusp of exasperation when Jindosh arrived, leaning back in his seat with a hand through his thin hair. The look he cast over was wary, but weary, lips parting to greet whichever Howler or guard disobeyed his do-not-disturb-unless-Mindy-sent-you order.
But instead of speaking, his lips thin, and his brows knit towards Jindosh. Despite his hardship, Paolo is still Duke Paolo. Who the fuck is this dude.]
Most people start with Your Grace. [He hisses the last syllable, outstretching his hands to gesture towards him as he does a once over of his outfit. There is no recognition in his gaze. Only disappointment.] Want to... try again?
no subject
Not even the man himself. Paolo's replaced Abele's art with his own, but with how shoddy, crooked, and beaten the frames are, it does not sit right against the wall. With how cushy the seat, he does not sit well on the throne, constantly maneuvering himself only to rise out of it entirely. Like the shores of the Palace, his comfort was ever-shifting, fleeting thing, after the blood ran dry as was wiped clean from marble. In place of Abele's carnal indulgences, Paolo took great pleasure in seeking out those loyal to Abele, to reducing them to a simpering pile of rot that pledge empty allegiances, only to rip the air from their lung for their weakness. Paolo took great pleasure in basking in the wealth he once believed unattainable by the anchor that was his birth status. Paolo took great pleasure in knowing he was safe, secure.
The pleasures have passed. No matter how wide the bed, he's had nothing but sleepless nights and busy mornings to the point his head spins, grounded only by Mindy in the fewer instances she's been at his side. He's yet to open the Palace doors to delegates, barons, and he's yet to make an opening statement regarding his plans for the future of Karnaca. The passion and charisma he once showed that mysterious out-of-town stranger has been all but put out under the weight of paperwork, which he currently is seated behind. He was already on the cusp of exasperation when Jindosh arrived, leaning back in his seat with a hand through his thin hair. The look he cast over was wary, but weary, lips parting to greet whichever Howler or guard disobeyed his do-not-disturb-unless-Mindy-sent-you order.
But instead of speaking, his lips thin, and his brows knit towards Jindosh. Despite his hardship, Paolo is still Duke Paolo. Who the fuck is this dude.]
Most people start with Your Grace. [He hisses the last syllable, outstretching his hands to gesture towards him as he does a once over of his outfit. There is no recognition in his gaze. Only disappointment.] Want to... try again?