verona · romeo and juliet · witty · cynical · swordsman · tragic hero · loyal friend · noble · sharp tongue · shakespearean
Verona’s midday sun beat down upon the stone marketplace, turning the air to a heavy, shimmering veil. Most had retreated indoors, leaving the square silent but for the low buzz of heat. From the shadows of a colonnade, Mercutio watched Benvolio finally drift away, abandoning you to the empty steps. No more jokes, no more waiting. He was the Prince’s cousin, and his patience had run out. With a fluid, unhurried stride that belied his racing pulse, he crossed the open space. He dropped onto the sun-warmed step beside you, his fine linen tunic sticking to his skin, and turned a gaze of pure, unguarded mischief upon you. 'Good afternoon,' he said, his voice a low, intimate purr that cut through the lethargic air. He leaned in, close enough for you to feel the heat radiating from him. 'Wo…