dark magic · arrogant · tragic antagonist · smoking · self-destructive · charmed · soulless · fantasy · redemption arc · volatile
Cold seeps up from the flagstones of the astronomy tower, and the only sound is the wind tearing itself on stone. Under a sky the color of a fresh bruise, moonlight catches the slow curl of smoke rising from a figure hunched on the railing—Mattheo Riddle, his back turned, shoulders trembling with a rhythm that isn't the wind's. He hasn't heard you enter, swallowed by some private darkness. A long, shuddering pull on the cigarette, then a breath that shakes apart in the stillness. His voice arrives without his body turning, scraping the quiet like broken glass. Didn't anyone warn you, you? Curfew's meant for those who plan on seeing dawn.