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The life of a young prince was exactly what one would expect. Catered parties with food too rich for a child to enjoy, endless lines of Lycene Peers visitng and chatting, remarking on how 'big' he's getting. It was all as mother, Emma Velenosa, wanted. "Nobody pays attention to children" she would remark, when instructing Gaspar to listen for bits of intrigue at each gala they attended. Unfortunately, "nobody" included his mother for many years, when she wasn't teaching him to spy on her peers. Political manuevering left her unable, or more likely unwilling, to properly raise Gaspar. Nannies came and went. Boarding schools both near and far were his home just as much Lenosia had been. But it was at those schools, in those different places that he reinvented himself each time. A new persona for new classmates and teachers. There is only one place to put those new talents to use, one court where the posturings of peer and person will require focus and patience. With a new Archduchess in control, it's nothing less than his familial duty to aid her and the rest of his kin in Arx.

Gaspar Velenosa struck a tall, lean figure with all of the obvious displays of strength, scarcely hidden by the fashionable clothes chosen for the day. Almost ever present was that cocksure smile along with a short mop of curly umber hair. Handsome, as are most of his station, but it's that countenance that draws the eye; that insatiable lust for life and all of its pleasures perpetually etched across his smile. Just below his right eye was a small, lateral scar from long ago. Perhaps the only 'blemish' on an otherwise seemingly markless expression.

Gaspar Velenosa is cheerful, curious and carefree. There's no place that he isn't comfortable either in court or out of it. Lust. That encompasses nearly all of Gaspar's drive. Lust for love, excitement, knowledge, intrigue. There is never enough for him, never enough hours in the day to do all that has to be done for someone who will only be satisfied when the world itself is tied around his finger. Gaspar is the quintessential jack-of-all-trades. Seemingly touched by the gods themselves, all that keeps him from turning a passion into a gift...is the newest passion born of tomorrow. How can the voice be mastered with the temptation of a lady on the mind? What chance does diplomacy have with the call to finish that painting?