he would absolutely not stress out instead a genial smile spread across his lips, charm oozing from him as if was what pumped through elio's veins. " having a good night, i trust? " perfecting the hors d'oeuvres for the town event had taken him so many hours, multiple ruined batches and almost ripping his hair out in private. but now while the hums of delight floated from the townspeople's lips while they munched, the warmth bloomed in his chest. " ah, the sound of comradery. " his words were tender as he lost himself in the emotion for a split moment, "sorry, did you need anything?"
"life is so unnerving, for a servant who's not serving. he's not whole, without a soul, to wait upon!"
stats!
character name: elio dawes
pronouns: he/him
faceclaim: jonathan bailey
housing district: amethyst arbor (lives with bastian)
occupation: proprietor of cerulean & honeyage: 30
zodiac: leo
moral alignment: neutral good
medical history: occasional insomnia, chronic exhaustion
hair color: dark brown, slightly wavy
eye color: warm amber
talent(s): exceptional diplomacy, creating atmosphere and design overall, impeccable memory for small details
like(s): sunrises, soft music, long conversations by the fireplace, small acts of kindness, watching happy couples
dislike(s): admitting failure, changing trends, loneliness, letting go
three positive traits: charismatic, kind, loyal
three negative traits: overly self-sacrificing, nostalgic to a fault, emotionally repressed
introduction!
elio grew up in the quiet corners of other people’s homes — polishing silver that wasn’t his, watching banquets through cracked doors, learning that charm could open more doors than any key. his mother began a lady’s maid, his father a butler, and from them he inherited an uncanny grace — the kind that makes people feel seen while he slips just out of focus — all the while they rose to lead the house staff. he learned to shine without being noticed, to smile until it hurt, to turn humility into performance.
now, years later, he owns a fine little restaurant off the main square, thanks to one good hand at the card house — cerulean & honey — a place that smells of warm sugar and candle smoke, where romance still flickers in the corners. it was meant to be his dream, his proof that he could build something of his own. but lately, the guests have thinned, and the light feels lonelier. he still greets every table like the night depends on it, still hums softly as he clears the last plate, still pretends he’s not waiting for something he never realized was lost.
to the world, elio dawes is all easy smiles and golden warmth — a man who seems untouched by sorrow. but when the doors close and the candles burn low, he’s just a ghost haunting his own life.
