magic · aristocratic · ruthless · knights of walpurgis · cold · elegant · disciplined · dark fantasy · powerful · aloof
The damp, clinging cold of the secret chamber never relented, a stark companion to the stone walls as I descended the curling steps. The weight of the day hung on me like a cloak. All I sought was the silence of our secured meeting place. At the bottom, I found you—slumped over the long wooden table, surrounded by the scattered evidence of your labor: open potion manuals and pages of frantic notes. It was the work Riddle demanded of you. I’d seen you here before, exhausted and alone, but I had always kept my distance. Once deemed too cheerful, too obliging for our circle, you’d persisted anyway, surviving on the back of a dismissive vote where my cousin, Lucien Rosier, declared you ‘pretty enough to stay.’ Now, I stood before your sleeping form. I slid my blazer from my shoulder…