Leonidas Windsor. The Capitol. Finished!

    Leonidas is an extremely attractive man, and boy, does he know it. From his cropped, and always perfectly styled, dark brown hair on the top of his head, to his abnormally large feet, he was the whole package. Now he’ll have you know looking this good does not come easy. Sure he was born with a great face, but these things take maintenance. He has to work out everyday to maintain his chiseled and built physique. He uses special facial washes to prevent any acne. He also gets his teeth professionally whitened. He considers dental hygiene to be of the highest caliber, because half his looks are in his smile.
    Although he spends an excessive amount of time on his appearance, he will also admit some of his attractive assets he was just blessed with. He is tall, almost six feet, with a naturally olive skin and a rosy complexion. He has a tall slim nose that he likes, but doesn’t love. No one in the world could ever make him admit it; he would prefer his nose be altered. It ended in a cleft tip that he thought looked like a sideways butt. Nobody ever commented on it, but it was still a part of himself that he very much did not like. His eyes were brown and little deep set, giving him a smoldering look, and framed by thick eyebrows, which need to be plucked from time to time. His lips were average with a slightly plumper bottom lip, and a district cupid’s bow on the top. His face was slim with a strong, but slightly pointed jaw that was usually covered by stubble he liked to grow to frame his face. This facial hair also helped him hide a small scar he acquired as a child that he would describe as “grotesque”.

    If anyone fit the definition of being two faced, it was Leonidas. At first he appears like the perfect man. Many nights he could be found sliding over to a pretty girl at a bar and almost always leaving with her, or her number. Being handsome was not his only talent; he was also exceedingly intelligent and had a knack for reading people. He was good at knowing if a girl liked the cocky, confident type, or the self-depreciating, down to earth type, or even the goof ball, funny guy. Even more impressively, he could switch through these characters at the drop of a hat. See, if Leo needed something from you he was charming, sweet, and oh so kind. He was known for being humorous and using just the right amount of flattery so that it seemed subtle, and genuine. However, these enticing characters were all only masks that he wore on the surface.
    On the inside, Leo felt nothing for others. People were merely objects to him that he could bend and use as he pleased. The idea of empathy and sympathy were foreign concepts to him that he had never experienced, unless it was for himself. In fact any positive emotions were only geared towards himself. Internally, he is entitled, selfish, impatient, and narcissistic. Everything he does is for personal gain and he believes that the world should be used for him. His acute abilities to read people, and faces are simply tools that he uses to assist in manipulation.
    From a young age Leo has been training himself in the art of expression. Due to his complete absence of empathy, he had to learn how to correctly respond in scenarios that require him to feel. Even though he is an expert at it, he will never be as natural at those who actually experience the emotions. Eventually after spending a lot of time with him, people may notice that there is something a little off, even if they can’t put their finger on it. While many people have layers to help cover deep insecurities, fears, or feelings, Leonidas only has a shell of faux being. Inside he is completely hallowed and empty.

(I don’t usually write in first person, but I think it was beneficial to get into his mind set also sorry it's long!)
    
    I think I always knew I was different. Even as a child I always felt a little like I didn’t belong. All the other kids were laughing, playing, growing up and experiencing the world in their innocent light and I was on the other side of a window, watching but never part of it. I guess part of it was that it never made sense to me why they behaved the way they did. Didn’t they know they looked stupid? Getting dirt all over them, pretending to be things they weren’t. I hated that I had to play with them. I hated running around the playground fake laughing. But I guess the first time I realized how different I was was when I was six years old and I pushed little Jimmy off playground structure.
    We were playing Hide and Kill, a game that starts off with one person closing his eyes to count so everyone else could hide, and then after the hunter had to hunt down and tag (“kill”) each person to win. I loved being the hunter and I wanted to be the hunter this time while we were playing. When decision time came, stupid Jimmy yelled out faster than me. He got to be the hunter first, so I pushed him off the play structure, right where the slide conjoins with the highest platform. I thought now I could be the hunter, but after his face hit the ground and he started to cry, a teacher pulled me to the headmaster’s office yelling that I pushed a kid off the structure.
    They called my mother, who came in raving about how her perfect little boy would never do this and it must be some sort of accident. This entire time I have said nothing. I felt nothing, and I didn’t know what I supposed to say. They kept telling me how I hurt the boy, he was crying, possibly broke his arm, and didn’t I feel bad? I didn’t feel bad, so I said nothing. The only thing said that really registered with me was when the headmaster told my mother I would not be allowed to play with the other kids anymore if I was pushing them. I wanted to play Hide and Kill, it was my favorite game, one of the only games I liked playing. So, I screwed up my face and wailed, which is what I did whenever my mother and father told me I couldn’t do something, or have something that I wanted.
    “See!” My mother gestured towards me, “He’s sorry, it must have been an accident.”
    “I’m sorry!” I yelled, peeking through my hands. “I didn’t mean to! He told me to push him down the slide so I pushed him but he fell over the wrong side!” I invented wildly. I wasn’t about to lose my playground privileges. I continued to fake cry into my hands as I heard my mother scold the headmaster for the lack of railings along the edge of the structure. Eventually the headmaster agreed that there must have been some sort of accident, and that they would look into the railing situation. I was allowed to keep my privileges so long as I apologized to that little snot, Jimmy. The following day my mother took me to his house with baked goods, and I looked him in the eyes and told him I was sorry and that it was an accident. He said okay and as we were leaving I turned to look back at him again. He was watching me walk away with suspicious eyes, to which I answered with a smirk.
    This was the lesson that taught me that with careful lying and apologies that seemed sincere, I could get away with almost anything. I guess I was also lucky that my mother had my back then. I suppose my mother and father were good people. They came from wealthy homes and had good jobs, or at least my father did. He worked as an advisor to President Snow, one of his closest, while my mother was once a game maker, until I came along. She quit to be a full time mom. I love that even as a baby I had that much control over my mother’s life.
    I grew up completed doted on. Everyone thought I was an adorable child who could make adults laugh, got excellent grades, and had a continuous group of friends. Things started to turn a little when I was nine and my idiot mother and father thought it would be nice for me to have sibling. Wrong. I didn’t want a sibling who I would have to share things with and who my parents would spend money on that they could use for me. When my mother got pregnant I kept thinking I should kick her in the stomach to keep that parasite from growing, but lucky it never came to that. A few weeks after she told me she was having a baby, she lost it, and I was left to be the only child once again. I remembered her telling me I wouldn’t be getting a sibling. She sniffed and looked towards the ground. I couldn’t help it; a smile grew on my face hearing the news and before I could rearrange my features into something concerning, her head rose catching a glimpse of my smile. She looked at me funny, before kissing the top of my head and walking away.
    That night I listened outside my parents’ bedroom and heard her telling my father there was something off about me. My stomach clenched, thinking that she was realizing I was different and that I would begin to lose things if she knew I didn’t care about others. I redoubled my efforts into being a charming son for her, but from that day she continued to watch my through concerned eyes.
    One evening someone brought news that my father had died at work from unknown causes. My mother broke down right at the door, and I couldn’t help but feeling that she seemed rather pathetic weeping on a mat for someone who as far as I could tell was only a financial aspect. But still I played the part of the suffering son, channeling all my disappointment about lack of income into a role of grief. Apparently I didn’t do a great job because a few days later I over heard my mother telling my aunt that she was beginning to feel uncomfortable around me, that I made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Fuck her.
    Lucky for us my father left us with enough money that we wouldn’t have to work for the rest of our lives. My mother said she would rather have no money and my father back. I told her she was grieving and not thinking clearly. Tensions rose in my house after my father died, and I preferred to spend time away around my “friends”. Well actually, I can’t really say I enjoy their company, but they all have something I can stand to gain from: an in with a high ranking employer, another can get me free tickets to tour old arenas, another friend can get us the best seats at some of the finest restaurants.
    I can’t say that my life has changed very much since I left school, except that I was old enough to get my half of the inheritance my father left. I don’t see my mother very often, even though she asks, because I don’t want to, and it seems like a waste of my time, but recently my mother’s been ill. I wouldn’t normally visit her, but honestly girls love it when I tell them I have to go care for my sick mom. It’s a panty dropper. But when my mom finally dies, I’ll get the other half of the inheritance, the house, the assets, and all the money my mother will leave behind. So, truth be told, I can’t wait for that bitch to die.