Sweet Nothing

It was afternoon, and so much had happened in his world. So much. Too much. He was tense and it was a feeling that rode with him rather poorly. His suave, cool, demeanor was metaphorically on hiatus, it's chances of reappearing slim to none, at least for the day. Adette was gone, and while to him, that was a win, all the Duke could do was sate himself by stretching out the innumerable muscles that coiled benath his flesh. Lazily he lay beneath a tree, the evening sun's rays dancing across his warm coat. Serenity. Such sweet serenity.

His hard chest would rise and fall along with his abdomen as breath entered and pleasantly exited. It was nice to be able to leave and not think about his duties, granted, there was the fact that even when it was his time for 'duties' he rarely did anything with them. He was a master at pawning work off on others, and not for simple laziness, but for sheer lack on interest. There was no denying the lad didn't work hard. He was rigorous, beautiful, charmed, and well chiseled around every grandeur figure. Perhaps, the issue was not himself, but others? He remembered another that had seemed to fall into his little beliefs and he could say she interested him, but Chrysanthe, the young virgin he had made his. She was gone, yes? Then again...he really hadn't called her the next morning had he?

In his thought process arose trickery. The subtly smell of her warm scent dancing over his nose, and it was interesting. Interesting that in his thoughts, in his recollection. There she came, danced into his wandering mind. She was near, but where. The brute would throw a sight from his lips and his frame would rise, still seated, he would gently bark out, allowing his presence to be known unto her. O Chrysanthe, where are you my dove?