"In order to thrive in society, you must become society itself."
At his core, he is slave to hedonism, a construction of delicately fluted glass and indomitable ego. On the surface, he is confident - but above all, polite. He'd once reveled in the fear of inadequacy, how it seared its curse, hot like fire, into his flesh; He'd marveled at the strength of his words of power and the transient sentience of an object riddled with magic...He is a dialectic between light and dark, strength and weakness, love and utter hate. He selects his faces dependent on the situation.

He would never forget.

daily psychology tidbit

"The concept of Tabula Rasa, i.e. a blank slate, stipulates that humanity is born with no preconceptions that may assist them to interpret the world around them."

Happiness was the sweetener of life, a flowery echo of a promise that was never freely given. Ephemeral. Like they had been. Oh, he'd known that it was ill-advised. Their existence wasn't meant for shades of roseate, of azure hope and violet love. There was only grayscale and black and perhaps vermilion in between. He'd understood.
But it still hurt.
Her tender hands, clinging to his face with unfettered appreciation. His laughter, a foreign language he was only capable of speaking in her presence. The large brown eyes, brimmed with trust and framed with lashes the colour of soot. He had once revered the very shadow of his brother's back, had once worshiped his mother as much as a child should. They were both taken away from him by duty and death.
He fought to find his place in the ensuing turmoil, the shifts in positions mandated by this strong fetter to the country. He was not good at anything. He could not wrap his head around the many things necessary for a man of his station, could not breathe in such a constraining environment. He was nothing in this realm.
And then he discovered his penchant for the mystical arts. With a new purpose, he honed his skill until he became a formidable force...
Then, he fell in love.
She was his equal in every right, heads with him on every decision; healed his wounds when they appeared. They grew together.
She was taken from him by another man.

He became talented in the art of devouring hearts - he did so, hoping that he'd be able to conceal his lack. For it still lay in her grip.
 

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