i see girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes
Characters: Tom Riddle [nexmosnonlucror] and Hanna Cross [magicxmarker]
When: August 19th, late evening.
Where: In a backstreet of Adstringendum.
Rating: R. Seriously. Tom is not a nice person.
Summary: Someone awoke the Dark Lord -- and he's been quiet long enough.
The streets were eerily silent, save for the soft flutter of Tom's cloak as he walked down the street, his hands deep in the hands of his pockets. He was walking with a purpose -- gone were the pleasant smile and the light in his eyes. No, his eyes were dark, cold, unforgiving -- his jaw set in a determined line -- and he did not look at anything save for whatever was straight in front of him.
He was positively murderous -- and Tom could not figure out why. Somewhere, in that brilliant mind of his, he knew he was being affected by something. He had perfect control over himself, at all times -- the odd bouts of rage were always tempered by a cold rationality in order to maintain his image, but this was different -- this was constant.
Every little thing made him angry. He was trapped, in a cage, like an animal -- and he lacked what he needed to achieve his goals. He required power -- lots of it -- and while he had several ideas concerning ways to create another Horcrux, Tom had no leads on how to actually make them happen.
His fingers were beginning to twitch in his pockets.
Someone will tell me what I need tonight.
When: August 19th, late evening.
Where: In a backstreet of Adstringendum.
Rating: R. Seriously. Tom is not a nice person.
Summary: Someone awoke the Dark Lord -- and he's been quiet long enough.
The streets were eerily silent, save for the soft flutter of Tom's cloak as he walked down the street, his hands deep in the hands of his pockets. He was walking with a purpose -- gone were the pleasant smile and the light in his eyes. No, his eyes were dark, cold, unforgiving -- his jaw set in a determined line -- and he did not look at anything save for whatever was straight in front of him.
He was positively murderous -- and Tom could not figure out why. Somewhere, in that brilliant mind of his, he knew he was being affected by something. He had perfect control over himself, at all times -- the odd bouts of rage were always tempered by a cold rationality in order to maintain his image, but this was different -- this was constant.
Every little thing made him angry. He was trapped, in a cage, like an animal -- and he lacked what he needed to achieve his goals. He required power -- lots of it -- and while he had several ideas concerning ways to create another Horcrux, Tom had no leads on how to actually make them happen.
His fingers were beginning to twitch in his pockets.
Someone will tell me what I need tonight.