In my words

Prologue

Years. Years of flipping pages and painting them with his thoughts and imaginations, he was accustomed to be assumed to be someone with less charm. His round metal rims glinted with spark from the dim light glowing in his bedchamber. Sheets of fabric to provide warmth to his flesh was on the marble floor, soaking in the unfathomable cold. A sigh left his lips as his round glasses shined with a glint from the dim light in his room. His leaned in his chair, putting his round glasses on the table and closing his eyes.

His silver lashes flutter shut as the void in his chest clutched to his empty heart. Just how many books has he written? How many genres? Almost every available one out there. If he had to pick, his personal favourite would have to be drama and romance. For a man he was oddly interested into writing the specks of emotions enticing human actions, losing control of their rationality and yet still doing the morally right thing. Whether it was giving rose to a childhood beloved's grave or a knife to a lover's throat. His books were known to have a twisted turn to it, several interpretation and psychological meaning to them. Every written words from his pen were like a mine of gem, hiding beauty under the guise of ugly pitch ink.

He was loved around the entire Kingdom but none knew of his identity. Correct you are, he was an anonymous writer, making the hearts of trillions flutter with emotions of many kinds and yet, not being able to satisfy his own void.

Paul Bricks- pen name Silver, many assumed him to be a lady of fine elegance, many assumed him to be an old man who was on his last leg, providing the people with his charm to leave a mark behind. Theories, assumption and what not were made on him. And yet, all he wanted to do was devote his life to the work of his passion. Each year he published a book that was loved by many but himself, each book he wrote left him with a void of irreparable ache. He was searching for something, something with so much life and yet not at the same time. A piece of art which was soaked in pain but still thrived to excellence of his own abilities, not giving up on what was of importance to his.

A story based on a person of reality. A person who will be his inspiration for his very last piece of work. Paul planned on quitting. Years of writing may have brought smiles and tears to the faces of his readers but him? It only widened the void of his empty heart. Perhaps this inspiration he so looked for, may help him fill it?

Ha, a trivial thought, a trivial dream.

His youth went with adults treating him like a freak who was immersed in writing stories that no one would ever read, his adulthood is being spent on being gawked at by women and men alike, as if he was a piece of meat waiting to be devoured. He couldn't entirely blame them, he was abnormally quiet as a child but not once was he proven to be of less intelligence, he was man of brains and now that he has grown up, not only his work pieces were considered to be a piece of great art but so was his face.

Shimmering silver hair, pale skin and bright hazel eyes. Hazel so bright that one might mistake them for golden orbs. A man of his fit was considered fine, with his height of six feet and 3 inches, he was considerably tall- even with a lady in heels beside her.

Years since Paul's younger brother had taken over the family but Paul did not mind, he had little to no interest in the thing called being a "successor" he had happily given his position to his brother and carried on to live a life of peace with his inherited money and passion. It wasn't like he wasn't earning money to begin with.

After living the 28 years of his life with no enticing enough events, he started losing his love for writing too. Parhaps it was time to quit for him. And yet, his heart told him to write- one last time, such a piece that would leave a mark of him behind. He was searching for something, not something perfect but something broken who was living to survive. As a writer who lived with hereditary depression and much lack of warmth, he was well aware what a broken person looked like. He knew all too well.

Their eyes would rage from sorrow and yet still manage to sparkle with hopes. Something-

"like her.."

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Hey hey hey!

Guess who is publishing another story without completing the drafts I already have? Me! :D

I just felt like it would be nice to write something without action once lol ofc I would add loads of dragging and drama in its place haha.

If you guys didn't realize it yet- the story is set in the era when Dukes and kings existed. It's a fictional world so names would be made up but I will use reference from other movies and characters as inspiration ahah.

Also- Paul is kinda inspired by Vyn from tear of Themis u//w//u

I hope you like the start! Until next time <3

Rising out!