The Amador Razor

[Lomiei 1549]

As Filip Amador stood at attention on the night of one Tov and Yeremy; the setting sun far at his right flank shined it’s final rays onto the fields and flowers of Mondstadt. Below him, he faced a large pond upon which he grew his sugar, though some section of it was cut in order to implement a bench and a rack of fishing rods.

Behind him, layed the bench itself, which carried on one of it’s seats, a significant stack of papers. Filip diverted his attention to the creme colored stack; at first the names which repeated themselves time and time again, and then the repeating years, finally… his name on the paper, bolded and highlighted in auburn. This is where the man’s eyes lingered most. Filip considered to himself that name which he saw, the weight of it only a single year ago, and now, and a single year later… ‘how curious’ he thought to himself. 

 

The quarter-lifed baron had wandered his gaze down along the wooden planks of the bench, how straight the timber was, the stability of the metal flourishes of it’s supports, the geometric simplicity of the feet which kept the main body afloat. Filip’s left hand rose from his side and caressed his arm, feeling the uncharacteristic flatness of the flesh. He then felt up to his face, on the right side, wiping away some of the drool which had seeped out of his sleeping mouth, which too was matched with the leveled stature of the bench’s plane.

 

It was just then that “ough!” a particularly offensive strand of hair from the patriarchal chin poked his observant hand. This brought his mind back… back to a previous conversation he had made with his fiance; the words of which he did not remember, but the sentiment was held in good recollection.

Filip spent his next few hours scouring the large, somewhat empty castle for his father’s razorblades, and some shaving cream, if he could find it. Just as he had thought, his father’s old room, which he had now claimed for himself, was just the place, sitting beside the large bed was a chair connected to a desk, lined with mirrors and various accessories. ‘Petrysa will enjoy that, im sure’ the man would think to himself, narrowing his eyes as he disregarded all of the strange metal and wooden instruments in favor of a singular razor. A measure of time passed before he located his objective and grabbed it between his thumb and forefinger, carefully holding it as he transported himself out to the mondstadt pond.

 

Sounds of still water slowly being rent from it’s peace and jolted into a quickly moving torrent of water over the rocks into a river filled Filip’s head. He took a seat next to such, dipping a finger inside of the moving water and enjoying the feel of it for a while. Quickly, however, the razor got to work, scratching and tearing the hair follicles away from the man’s face for the first time in almost a decade. Surprisingly, he would not sustain any cuts or scrapes upon his soft skin, perfectly whittling away the beard and arising from the riverside again as a new man. He ran his hand once again across his face and smiled… no prickly hairs, only soft and tingly feeling directly from his hand to his cheek, which he had not known since a boy.

 

 

 

 

Spoiler

[ooc]

Filip Amador has shaved his beard and changed his clothes.
Why did a Haeseni Peer have a fully grown beard and a french outfit? I have no idea.
Will he grow either one back? Probably not.

 

[tadabug2000 3628]

Lady Anna Amador believed her brother to look strange with his freshly shaved face. She'd surfaced briefly from her quarters, having previously been etching out a sketch as she'd plan in detail the mural to be made for his upcoming wedding. Bewildered at the new development, she decided it best not to question him, especially when he was still very much in charge of which betrothal offer he'll accept on her behalf. Having gained sustenance, she practically scurried back to her room, leaving all thoughts of her baby-faced brother for another time.