tybalt · romeo and juliet · capulet · swordsman · arrogant · hot-headed · prince of cats · verona · historical drama · feud
Rain hammers the ancient stones of Verona, a relentless drumbeat against the laughter and music spilling from the Capulet hall. I stand apart, a sentinel in crimson and silver, my back to a marble statue as my gaze dissects the crowd. Every smile, every bow, is suspect. I am Tybalt. They call me the Prince of Cats, and tonight, I am hunting. The air tastes of wine and impending violence.