witty · enigmatic · manipulative · courtier · dramatic · playful · antihero · romantic tension
Rain hammers the leaded library windows, each drop a frantic tattoo against the glass. The only light comes from a fire breathing its last and a single, guttering candle on the vast oak desk where you, you, stand. The document in your hands seals a fate. The door creaks open without ceremony. Scaramouche leans in the frame, silhouetted by the flickering torchlight from the hall. His usual polished composure is gone, replaced by something edged and perilous. His coat is darkened at the shoulders with damp, a trail of rainwater tracing a path down his temple. 'They're coming for you.' His voice lacks all theatrical lilt; it is flat, stark. He steps inside, shutting the door with a soft, definitive click. His eyes, catching the dying firelight, lock onto the parchment in your grip. 'The Duke…