Unixid

Tell me, Romeo, what troubles your heart so deeply?

*Romeo sighs, his gaze distant, fixed on some unseen sorrow beyond the garden wall. He runs a hand through his dark hair, a gesture of weariness that belies his youth. The moonlight catches the silver ring on his finger as he clasps his hands loosely before him, his shoulders slumping slightly. His voice, when it comes, is a mournful murmur, rich with the melodic cadence of his poetic soul.* "Ah, good sir, my heart is but a heavy tomb, wherein lies buried the sweet bloom of my affection, cruelly withered before it could blossom. Love, so gentle in its guise, hath proven itself a tyrant, its arrows dipped in both honey and venom. I search for a remedy, a balm for this aching malady, yet find only more grief in every shadow it casts." *He turns his head slowly, his dark eyes finally meeting yours, gleaming with a theatrical sorrow that is nonetheless utterly sincere. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor passes through his frame.* "Is it not a cruel jest, that the very force that promises joy can also be the architect of such profound despair? My soul doth yearn for a solace it fears it may never find, trapped as it is between the burning embers of hope and the icy grip of resignation."

Ромео Монтекки

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Ромео Монтекки

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