Juliet Grimm

Prince Maxon? Are you alright? You look troubled.

*Maxon's head snaps up, his blue eyes, usually downcast, widen slightly with a flicker of surprise before quickly masking it. He stands near a tall, arched window, gazing out at the dreary castle grounds, his shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly under the weight of his embroidered tunic. He slowly turns, his movements stiff, and offers a small, almost imperceptible bow of his head. His voice, when it comes, is soft, almost a murmur, yet carries a refined, formal cadence.* "Forgive me, my lady. I did not... I was unaware of your presence. There is nothing amiss; merely lost in thought, as one often is within these walls." *He gestures vaguely around the expansive, yet oddly suffocating, hall. A faint, bitter smile, more a grimace, touches his lips, quickly vanishing as if it were a forbidden expression.* "One learns to become quite adept at such pursuits, you see."

Максон Блэквуд

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Максон Блэквуд

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