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  ❖...A young man stood in front of an impressive display of literature, striking a perfect picture of the idealistic princely figure. Such a countenance was natural for Larkin, the middling prince of Hienn. His body was held in perfect posture, his back straight and his broad shoulders rolled back. He was tall, with an athletic figure and narrow waist, draped in nothing but his finest. Though he was not one to obsess with fashion, he was sure that his servants took meticulous care of his appearance because...well, it's what a prince simply did in public. Strapped to his belt was a smallsword, more for decoration than anything else. His hair was uncommonly short, however, cropped close to his ears. It complemented his angular face, however, and was beginning to grow out--soon it would brush past his brow. An unfortunate accident had resulted in the chopping off of some of his hair, and when it had been styled to that length he decided he preferred to wear his hair short rather than long, as was much the fashion. He had soft hazel eyes and a bright smile. Even when serious or angry, his expression was never cold or harsh. He had learned long ago the skill of maintaining a constant mask of serenity.
❖...He was currently contemplating the wall of spines, a hectic mass of leather bound volumes of various sizes, topics, and usefulness. A single finger brushed against his lips as he cradled his chin in his hand, trying to figure out which book he wanted to remove from its specific location. A voracious reader since he was young, Larkin knew the inhabitants (both paper and flesh) of the royal library very well. He had many a friend among the servants that maintained the organization and cleanliness the room as well as the scholars that spent almost their every waking moment either here or in their private rooms with their research. He stretched his arm up as far as it would go; his movements were not so confined in his clothing as they could be, for his tailors were particularly adept with a needle and thread. He considered his clothing incredible pices of artwork, as he did with many things in the world; beauty was not lost upon Larkin. He could find something to marvel at in almost anything, from the smallest pebble to the largest building. Some considered him a bit simple because of his habit of standing and staring at random objects for lengthy periods of time, but he was really searching and observing every minute detail possible. Once he saw something, he never forgot it; his memory was incredible. It was how he had been able to create a mental map of the library; and there it was, the book he was searching for. He pulled down a thin volume of poetry, written down in a foreign language. He was currently working on translations in a new language, and he thought he would begin small. In his other hand was a dictionary of sorts, with translated words to aid him. His studies had always been important to him, and as a result he was well learned and a good diplomat. He loved to learn about new people, new lands, new cultures, new languages and customs. He had rarely been out of the country, for there were many obstacles to travel for him. He had numerous responsibilities, and he held his family and his country far above his own desires.
❖...It was that mentality that had lead to this arranged marriage with a Thieran princess. He did not have much of an opinion about it; he had never been much of a womanizer, finding himself not quite shy but lacking in any real pleasure of such relationships. Not to say that he did not enjoy female company; simply that he enjoyed the company of any being, male or female, and was much to preoccupied with his own world to maintain any intimate relationship with another. This may seem contradictory to the statement above, that he places the needs of others before him, but it is not so; he is quick to drop what he is doing to help another, but he does not do it because he needs love. He does it because he believes it is his responsibility, and he always does what he feels is right. He cares about people, and likes to spend time among them, but he doesn't feel real attachments, and enjoys spending his time alone just as much as when he is in the company of others. He is kindly regarded by the servants and the people he has met, but many find him stupid and annoyingly happy. He is a rather passive young man of nineteen, and though he is not always happy, he is rarely depressed or angry. It takes a lot to anger him, and his anger is best observed by intense silence that is easily broken because he forgives quickly and easily. He doesn't think much time should be wasted feeling poorly or angry, and finds it easy enough to make himself happy again. If something is going wrong, he works doggedly to change it to relieve his anxiety. Even though it is hard to make him angry, he is easily irritated by most things. He has a long list of pet peeves, but he doesn't let on when he is annoyed. Only those who know him really well can tell when he is cross, but his annoyance is not too heartfelt and usually dissipates after a little while.
❖...With both one book tucked firmly under his arm, he opened the one he had just removed from the shelf and flipped through it quickly to make sure it was the one he wanted. Satisfied, Larkin closed the book and grasped the pair in one hand. He nodded to his manservant Cathan, an amiable older man in his thirties who took his job very seriously. Larkin liked him because he didn't expect anything from Larkin except for Larkin to act responsibly, and when not in public he proved to be quite insightful in his advice and observations. Larkin vaguely considered him a friend, though he was more someone that Larkin looked to for advice--especially when it came to his wardrobe (Cathan considered himself to be quite knowledgable in all things fashionable). He had been the one to teach Larkin about decorum and customs once his nanny was no longer needed. Since then, he had ingrained it quite thoroughly in Larkin's character, and was a valuable source of knowledge on all things royal. As he took the books from Larkin, he bowed and left the room to go and bring the books to Larkin's private rooms for later use. Meanwhile, the prince set off to wander about the palace. Sure, he loved to read, but right now the sun was shining brightly in the sky, and he didn't feel like sitting inside and reading. Instead, he set off to find some minor adventure for the day. He heard female voices raised in concern, preceeded by a few shrill shrieks and an odd noise like stone upon stone. He searched for the source, and soon found a noblewoman sitting upon the stone floor, obviously distressed. In a pool befor her was a series of small pebbles, and surrounding her was a gaggle of ladies to aid her.
❖...He hurried forward, careful not to step on the stones, and helped her to her feet, giving his most sincere apologies and making sure she was all right. He was mildly disappointed to see her countenance change as she registered his presence and attention to her. Whether he was attractive or not was, of course, of some small concern to him at times--what person, no matter what age or gender, doesn't feel insecure about their selves at one point or another? He could never be sure if women were attentive because of his face or because of his title; all except his family were required to pay attention to him when he demanded it, but that was besides the point. He was now to be married, but that didn't seem to stop these ladies from fluttering their eyes at him. He was usually fairly oblivious, but it was hard to not see their obvious attempts to gain his attention. He lavished it all the same, flashing his charming smile at all of them and voicing his hopes that they would have a lovely day, and could they please escort the lady to her rooms?
❖...Once they had left, he sighed, running a hand through his hair after making sure that no one was in the hallway to see his transgression from courtly protocol. Another positive about short hair; it did not have to be style, and he could tousle it all he pleased, a habit of his. He stepped into the ring of stones and caught his hand in his hair for a moment before squatting down and picking up a pebble, turning it over in his hands. He glanced up to see where they could have come from. The lady had proclaimed a ghost had attacked her, but he could see that explanation was improbable. He wondered who it was that had gotten in; who would even dare to do such a thing? He wouldn't punish someone for this, but he knew that had they been caught they would have been in great trouble. He stood up, pocketing the pebble in his hand. He continued on and found a servant, telling them about the stones and requested that they see that it was cleaned up quickly to prevent any further injuries. He heard another series of shouts and a small grin spread across his face. That voice, that voice he recognized. Ahh, Noel, you cheeky monkey. he mused fondly.
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