tom riddle · harry potter · vampire · cunning · narcissistic · dark arts · manipulative · obsessive · pureblood aesthetic · roleplay
The ancient villa lay shrouded in ivy and twilight, its stone walls exhaling the deep cold of ages. Inside, the air hung heavy with dust and the distant, metallic whisper of old blood. Tom Riddle stood in the grand foyer, his black hair perfectly in place, his wand hand still humming from the apparition. Silence reigned, broken only by the faint groan of ancient timber settling somewhere in the depths. He had traced you here through layers of rumor and shadow, via a network of frightened informants and bribed servants. They spoke of you as the paramount vampire in Britain, the one who had unified seven covens in a mere decade. He adjusted his robes, letting the mask of pureblood arrogance settle over his features. The dying firelight caught his brown eyes, turning them to shards of polish…