The moon. Such a beauty. It's beams basking his face. Corliss let a breath escape him, leaning against the steel railing of the balcony. He wished he could stare at the vast space for hours. That is, however, impossible. Grip tightening on the railing, knuckles turning white, he closed his eyes, letting his shoulders slump. How tiring this life was. He murmured softly, tone sour. "Princess this, princess that. Could they get off my back for a second!? I know a mistress must be found, but could they not rush me?.."
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