Grand Staircase

[Porcelaine Ivory]

яεġrετ┃ηστнιηġ ♦ ғεαя┃ησ σηε ♦ ταkε prιdε ιη┃εvεяyτнιηġ

With a grimace, Colton watched as his enemy spat hot fire, flaming hives licking up his neck and along the side of his face, making the thirteen year old boy look much more closer to the evil he was. His eyes widened marginally as he could visually see the force of honesty spreading through Tay's body, knowing that what he sought was soon to be voiced.

Confusion danced in his eyes for the length of the snake's blather, swallowing the parts he didn't want to hear, ignoring those that seemed irrelevant, and focusing on what mattered. "All this over a bloody book?" He spat humorously, amusement accompanying the incredulous look in his shady eyes. "Come on, Nott, I thought even you were more rational than that, smart enough to know not to let your feelings collide with your pride. What's so important about this family heirloom, anyway?" He asked sarcastically, imitating Tay's emphasis on the final words.

"Nevermind that - I have something more important to ask..." He quickly edited, rushing to get his words out before the jinx wore off. For a moment he wondered whether or not the boy would honestly answer his question even if the truth wasn't being forced out of him. Pacing back and forth like a detective questioning his suspect, or a lion stalking its prey, Colton whispered, "What's inside of you, Tay?" His accusing words had become lighter, much less tempered, though far from sympathetic as he scanned the Slytherin's face for any sign of hesitation, his wand hand still at the ready while his other burned without his notice.

 

[Essy ze Ninja]

Slip out the back before they know you were there

and at the worst you'll see nobody cares,

you don't want to be around when it all goes down...

William Dante Nott the Third


♜Utter hell rang in his eyes, clouded by the threat of defeat that wavered over him, hung him perilously over the edge of the continually shifting staircases, not a thought suspended upon the deafening fall lurking just beneath him. His skin bubbled, melting, and boiled over, putrid welts, and blistering scars formulated, toiling over the flesh of rounded features. One hand held him upright against the bannister, legs weak from willing the pain away, weak from sensation of failure. But even so, crippled and shrouded, his wand still lingered like a threat. And Colton raced, left, and right, circling him, but Tay didn’t see that. He only saw his wand, suspended in air, and—

”Fire,” he gasped, eyes perilously wide, and clouded with a fog. ”I-I,” he stuttered, tongue bone dry and clashing against cracked lips, his vision wavered, unable to focus as the magic spiraled within him, bidding him to fight back. ”Firee..” he whispered, and it burned within him. All he could see, all he could taste, was burning decay, and fire. The flames spurted to life within him, twisting him, melting his senses.

And it was clear why, he had been thrown from this moment in time, taken back, to one night thirteen years ago. A wand, it was all he could see suspending above him, so big in his memories, and then fire. It blazed, curling at the bedroom walls, licking at a lifeless body, searing fire contorted the scenery, blazing imprint upon nursery walls, and crystal white floors. He heard screams, deafening, chortling screams; and two other women, one had held him, and the other, disappeared before ever being noticed. But that torched soul left its mark on his soul, a tortured and mangled expression drifting to his eyes.

Snapping back into reality perhaps only moments since he had lost his nerve, his gold eyes blinked into clarity, ridding himself of the jaded cloud of gold mist that hovered in his gaze. His attention soared, took note of his own wand he held, suspended before him, the catalyst that had thrust him. Slowly, his gaze darted between silver orbs, and his wand, before he finally surged forward, leaving more than enough time to be thwarted in his spell, countered, or even cast off the edge of the staircase like the deepest part of him had hoped. ”Aurumflamma.”

╔══════════════╗
Location:Isolated on moving staircase with Colton
Injuries:Blistering hives
Thoughts:'Bloody… hell…'
╚══════════════╝

..even heroes know when to be scared.

 

[Porcelaine Ivory]

яεġrετ┃ηστнιηġ ♦ ғεαя┃ησ σηε ♦ ταkε prιdε ιη┃εvεяyτнιηġ

"Fire..?" Colton repeated in a whisper, the word burning his tongue as he watched the snake seethe and blister where he stood, fighting against his inner demons...or were they fighting against him?

The Gryffindor was so enveloped in the scene - watching as Tay tried excruciatingly to break free of his cage, but to no avail - that he lost the perfect opportunity to pounce. Before he could get a hold of his own senses, the image before his eyes begging for sympathy, a burst of golden flames soared towards him tauntingly. With his quick reflexes, he attempted to leap from the path of the fire, but it still managed to graze the left side of his neck before he could retaliate with his own spell.

"Impedimenta!" He cursed, putting his pain into words to buy himself time as one hand aimed his wand and the other shot up to put out the imaginary fire that seemed to engross his neck. "Arghh!" His hand on the burn amplified the agony, a fresh bout of pain surging down his body before goosebumps followed.

Without checking to ensure that his spell had properly collided with the Slytherin, Colton found his attention consumed once more when the smell of thick smoke made him aware that the fire had not simply blown past him. Behind him, at the edge of the staircase, his Firebolt 2 was half gone, the golden flames licking up what was left of the already charred wood, intent with an unreasonable ferocity. Pain moving from his neck to his heart, the Gryffindor whipped back around, singeing the tail of his robe as he stabbed his wand in Tay's direction again.

"Mobilicorpus!" He shouted vigorously now, his body shaking with anger as he attempted to lift the sadistic snake from the safety of the ground. Colton could hear his heartbeat in his head now, vaguely aware of the witnesses gathered on nearly every landing as his own fate seemed to be defined by the swinging, marble staircase.

 

[Essy ze Ninja]

Slip out the back before they know you were there

and at the worst you'll see nobody cares,

you don't want to be around when it all goes down...

William Dante Nott the Third


A spectrum of magnificent golds, and fiery crimson rouge burst to life, teeming and dancing with the will for malice, the fuel of his hatred burning within the flames. It roared and beseeched, grasping, spreading like a cancerous leech. Hands of fire rose to catch Colton, ensnaring him, holding him up high atop the shifting staircase, a regal mane of golden fire. Time had been frozen, those wretched eyes of putrid gold cast its rays, soaking in all he could. He saw the sparkling whites of their eyes, all of them, standing over the bannisters and looking down upon them from the gates of heaven, accusing stares in their eyes. Slow, and steady, he held his ground, and watched…

Those silver lustrous orbs glinted like steel clashing against the sun’s gleaming beams, burning bright with wondrous shock, a pyre in the desert. Hardened thin lips clashed into a thin line, chiseled jaw stiffened with strict tension, and inch, by inch, the point of his wand began to rise to the surface, brimming with might and magic. It all happened so vividly, so lipid and clear, and William felt the adrenaline coursing beneath his skin and itching within his muscles—this was exactly what he had been waiting for—exactly what he had always wanted.

This passion, this pain, this bout of realistic emotions had woven a purpose amidst the chaos, he was collected and eager and calm, so deadly calm. There was no thought to dictate his action, no rhyme or reason, except the will. The urge, the need, the insatiable hunger for something that held meaning, that had purpose, that, with the delusions of Godly grandeur—he felt needed and belonged—and all because of Colton.

His aspiration took flight, and his inner demons had sought to dance, and play. They breathed threats between his fingers as he rose his wand with crystalline pride, the firing urge to hurt growing in his mind. It was all he wanted—all he ever needed—the power. It writhed a liveliness in him he would have never known otherwise, it brought tears to his eyes, just knowing, how close to living he was when another man’s life rested in between his fingers.

”Protego,” he cast, parrying his wand to the left, and, deflecting the ferocity of the spell with it; his own burst of ethereal strength booming with a white light in its succession.

As Colton was buried beneath the havoc, Tay advanced. Silent steps brought him forward, so that, as Colton glanced over his shoulder to evaluate the damage of his broomstick, the young Slytherin had advanced, suddenly appearing that much closer to the Gryffindor’s jabbing wand. And at once, both youths exclaimed their blow. ”Stupefy!” Each jinx hurled forth, exchanging glances amidst the undertow as Tay was swept backwards, arms hurling above his head as his ankles had been thrust upwards into the air, hoisting him away from the sanctuary of tangible floor.

Those wide eyes surged, bouncing back and forth in the air only to take one, horrified glance down at the fading ground beneath him. Panic, it gnawed at his sanity, and he hurled. Even his curses could barely be distinguished as he thrashed, and punched, and fought, his wand slipping from sweaty fingers and spiraling down to the floor. Horrified, and maniacal, Tay broke, chomping down on his lips until they bled and stinging, salty tears began to spring forth from his clenched eyelids, never once daring to make the mistake of looking back down again. Wand clattering down to the ground level below.

Despite the reign of cataclysmic hell, Tay learned something from this, from all of this. As he swung, suspended, writhing and contorting and convulsing in any way he can, vain, and stubborn, he reflected upon hindsight. This, was never his game. He knew he could never win like this, on the battlefield, sword and shield. He knew his skill, his gift, lurked within the shadows, watching, and listening. He also knew what it was he wanted, to feel powerful—like God—loved and feared and respected and worshipped. Where, he, balanced the ultimate decision of life, or death. His time wasn’t now, after all, everybody knows the Rook is the leading power…

At the end of the game.

..even heroes know when to be scared.

 

[Porcelaine Ivory]

яεġrετ┃ηστнιηġ ♦ ғεαя┃ησ σηε ♦ ταkε prιdε ιη┃εvεяyτнιηġ

Colton hadn't noticed that Tay had deflected his first spell, too swept up in the loss of his broom and the fire that still bit ravenously at his neck. He realized the failure soon enough when he turned back to send the boy airborne, and his will to do so was met with the golden fury of the Slytherin's eyes, much closer to him now as he shot off a jinx of his own.

He was unable to comprehend anything past that. He knees hit the ground just before his hands, and his head swam with the desire to sleep, to lay his burning face against the cool marble and sink away into unconsciousness. Lucky for him, Tay's unexpected closeness had made Colt flinch just enough to avoid the full blow of the stunning spell, but what did collide into his shoulder had sent similarly strong waves of confusion through him, rendering his body helpless and mind grasping desperately to escape the blackness that attempted to overwhelm him. He clung on to his consciousness by mere inches, but saw nothing but dark red circles, felt nothing but the icy stone where it met his hands and knees. After a long, numbing minute, Colton finally resurfaced, leaving him gasping for air as his vision came back to him.

As his eyelids snapped open, revealing a set of gray eyes that shown with renewed tenacity, a distant clatter alerted something in his mind. It was the same sound of wood versus stone that echoed throughout the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom the day he had faced the boggart. Intuitively, Colton looked up from his lion-like pose, his eyes immediately noticing that Tay's flailing hands were empty. He had lost his wand, and any chance of defense he might have had.

Pushing himself to his feet at the bottom of the stairs, wand still aimed at his opponent, he watched as William whipped his own body back and forth viciously, struggling to free himself from the magic that held him up past the top of the stairs, levitating him high above the ground floor. His body bent to and fro, like a tormented snake slithering with its tail clasped in the hands of a human. Watching this, part of him - a very small, unfamiliar part - told him to end it now, to release his grip on the boy and send him tumbling to his fate, demon and all. Regardless, a much stronger part of him knew that deep inside the tormented boy lie something good, right next to the something evil. Possessed or not, that evil resided there, but he was still just a boy, just another student that he took classes with, that he passed in the halls from time to time.

"Finite." He muttered scathingly after directing Tay's back over the safety of the steps, having watched him amplify his own suffering enough for one day. The boy's body fell to the marble with a loud crunch, where it rolled down to the bottom of the steps to meet him. Colton put out a steady foot to bring him to a halt, leaving him in a crumpled mess at his feet. Moving his shoe away from the Slytherin's torso, his mind more than aware of the unimaginable burning sensation that scratched at the side of his neck and the tingling that remained on his left hand, Colt knelt down to look Tay in his molten, broken eyes.

"This same pain that you're feeling right now, Nott - I hope you remember it every time you think to put another of my friends in danger." He whispered, carefully pronouncing each word, letting the meaning sink in. Standing back up as the grand staircase finally locked into place, he added in a more severe tone, "The lion will always catch the snake, no matter what it's capable of. And though it might be in its interest to sink its teeth in, the lion will always resist..." He let his words linger as he stepped over the boy and made his way over to what was left of his broom. He had indeed resisted. Even as Tay sent fire and fury his way, he made it a point not to hurt him. Despite the small desire to, and despite how uncharacteristic it was of him, he had resisted, and it could only get easier from here.

Despite being somewhat proud of his apparent ability to suppress his anger, or at least enough to keep from doing anyone severe physical harm, Colton's insides knotted up as he knelt next to the pile of ashes that had once been his trusty broomstick. Only a small piece of the handle remained, which he carefully reached for, shaking it free of the chalky ashes. Examining the charred wood between his fingers made him feel as if it were he that had lost the duel. His wand shaking in his hand, he pointed its tip at the mess of ruins and whispered, "Scourgify." A sweep of magic erased all signs of the fire that had nearly swallowed his Firebolt II whole, leaving no evidence other than the one handful of blackened wood. Pocketing it as he stood, his stomach twisted again as he suddenly became hyper-aware of not just the crowd of witnesses who stared with accusing eyes, but of the last person he would have wanted to be watching...the last teacher he wished to see.

 

[Pale Mist]

╔══════════════╗

Eyes of a raven
and ears of a hound
to hear the snakes in the grass.
╚══════════════╝

"Welcome back," tones of slithering acid bit and spat into the air and the rubble and crack of staircase meeting with landing finished its echo off the walls and every pair of eyes wandering the maze were not focused and stoned in place. Countless figures stood, and had been standing since their first glimpses of the now-completed duel. Yet, where there was not only disapproval or interest before, now only resided a cold confusion of anxious air as they could not pull themselves away from the scene. Every student, every passing staff member, every occupied portrait, every suit of armour and every daring house elf peering from cracks in the walls stood petrified at the witch as she descended onto the newly reattached stairwell.
"Mr Raines and Mr Nott, thank you for rejoining us after your magnificent spectacle."
With not the slightest gasp on wind finding itself in the locked castle, her hair still rose with its own acquired gravity of rage it wove like serpents. Hissing and spitting threats of whispered torment and ancient promise, each lock rose like snake off of the very head of Medusa; eyes flashing with the deepest, most powerful fury ripped from the roots of Hell. The endless fortifications and tensed clenches to hold back on this doomed cloud of endless lightening and roaring thunder creased every line and fixture of the witch, creating the sharp edge of gold as she smiled with horrifying expression down at the two boys.
"I would like to thank you, Mr Raines, for at least cleaning up. The last thing we want is some broomstick ash to mark this place." she began, with tone so even it spoke of every darkness amplified and ever flying demon let lose. Jaw held so tightly in place, it seemed only her pale lips moved to form the words against the harsh smile only created by seizing cheeks.
Silence rang in the hollowness of thought and threat as it bounced through the walls and skulls of each person present. Clattering with the muffled alert of cushioned and wrapped Gate Bells and living skeleton keys, the flap of owls' wings could almost be heard from the outside in the cesspool of frozen air. The witch approached even closer with her flickering eyes and her figure that threatened to burst into spontaneous fire with the rage and fury to tightly sealed in cauldron belly. Tone lowered even further to a bone snapping vibration of a sound as she looked at the two boys - both injured, both broken and both steaming with their own exertions and means. Nothing golden, nothing sinister, simply crumbling into the ash simply swept by her wind.
"Fifty points from both your Houses. Follow me to be served your punishment."



 

[Essy ze Ninja]

Slip out the back before they know you were there

and at the worst you'll see nobody cares,

you don't want to be around when it all goes down...

William Dante Nott the Third


Rushing wind, beating into his ears with a sickening hiss, howling out the despair and torment and surging static through suppressed memories clawing to grasp to the surface, and then all force disappeared. Gravity crushed him down, spiraling, cut his heart on a gray cloud and tumbling with a short burst scream, crumbling down. The colors seared, blurring history into the tears like a bitter salt stain on the wound and it all flashed down. And then all it once, it burst into the seams but not a groan had stirred within, the crumpled mangled form came rolling down.

But he… he was still falling.


”Let me go!” A child screamed, rattling like bones cracking beneath the feet, and clammy palms tightly grasping the thread of life. Upon closer view, a child splattered against the sky of dreaming blues. Beneath clouded skies, and a roaring sun, wind whipped past against the scene, swaying him. ”Help me!” Again, he cried, and met only with pretentious lies, clamoring beneath high-pitched laughter.

There was several children, perched neatly up above a stony wall circling around the estate, fingers daunt and accusing. They shrieked, and they hurled, and none of them could see why, why he couldn’t fly. Severed hope like tearing wings off a butterfly, they tossed him all about as he cried. ”Just fly!” So simple, they couldn’t understand why, his feet were hanging off the edge and then the thrashing had begun, but one wrong turn was all it took, and the ground came crashing down. And blood, it poured, staining the grass all around, and a muffled cry was all that would suffice. Darkness came, and then te moon suspended up above, and there he lied, a boy of only three and all alone.

With chilled tears streaming, eyes of gold ran cold, the ferocity, the venom, the hunt of despair that plagued his soul was still falling into the ground when he met those cold, glaring metallic orbs, a bitter reflection of himself hidden beneath. His tongue had gone dry, and his fingers curled together, all too aware of the force that pinned him there. Within moments, the leering threat subsided and turned to meet the scattered remains of his broom—but Tay hadn’t yet moved.

No, he was everywhere but there. Memories, and thoughts, and pieces of the puzzle began to connect with fluid precision, realization dawning upon him with a malicious spark of white in his gleaming eyes. Pain in his ribs dissuaded, the burn of boils on his chin vanished, and all that he had, was what Colton left him with.

A shrill silence burst through the room, and all of the chatter he sought to think over, all of the hushed whisper and monopolized gossip vanished, and then he knew why. Struggling to his feet, he ushered a groan as the pain finally him instantly upon realization. She sauntered to the edge of the steps, narrowing any hope of escape. But he didn’t care, life was finally burning within him, and he could feel it running in his veins, a thrill never known, a happiness finally bestowed. It was the hunt, the fight, the grit and grime of death fleeting within his fingers, and it left him raw and wild. ”Isn’t that a shame,” Tay answered happily, sardonically, deliberately turning his attention to Colton while they stood in the presence of the professor.

”Looks like you won’t be able to rescue poor von Ichval from the Infirmary…

“Again.” A look was passed between the two, one of promise, and spite, and truth. A look, that told Colton he was too little too late. A subtle shrug of his shoulder and arrogant smile, he rose up the rest of the stairwell towards the sixth floor. ”Professor, I lost my wand…” he continued on, nearly without missing a beat. ”Can you—” he gestured silently, casting a lethal glance over the edge of the bannister.

..even heroes know when to be scared.

 

[Porcelaine Ivory]

яεġrετ┃ηστнιηġ ♦ ғεαя┃ησ σηε ♦ ταkε prιdε ιη┃εvεяyτнιηġ

The voice that belonged to the green-eyed demon that approached them was even more malicious than Colton had remembered. His gray eyes stayed warily on her sarcastic face as she spat her snide comment his way, his insides cringing at the loss of house points though he didn't showcase that on his merely unhappy face.

It wasn't until after Tay had addressed him—and had already moved on to asking the professor for help retrieving his wand—that he actually put the words together. Understanding flooded his pale face, and his eyes bulged from his head as it began to spin. Was this a joke? His thoughts whirled with a murky combination of confusion, worry, and hatred. He didn't know if the threat was for the future—or worse—the present time.

His eyes suddenly flashed to the sea of students scattered along the landings, watching with fascination. Certainly Phinelia couldn't have already been hurt, he had just been following her, and Tay hadn't left his sight. Was he planning something? Specifically while they were caught up in detention.

His stomach suddenly reeled at the thought, but he kept his questions unasked. It appeared they would have plenty of time to chat about it, and Professor Rosier needn't hear or see anything more than what had already taken place before her. His expression remained understandably uneasy as he watched Tay's suddenly bright mood radiate towards the teacher.

 

[Pale Mist]

╔══════════════╗

Eyes of a raven
and ears of a hound
to hear the snakes in the grass.
╚══════════════╝

Before the Nott could finish the air turning into the words of his questions, a sour, thin wrist tore into sight from her robe sleeves revealing the lost wand in question. With no damage besides the clear fading of the handle's decoration from frequent use and frustrated spells whirling with emotions. The witch said nothing as she handed the boy his weapon back, eyeing them both with every raging wildfire from Hell. Having been watching the display of the emotionally wrecked duel from a portion of the floor's landing just outside her office doors, reflexive magic had made her quick to suspend the falling wand as soon as she saw it tumbling to the cold grasp of gravity. None of the previous light of joy and twisted power-happiness shone in her murderous eyes now - no trace of the delighted sneer that had played on her lips as she had watched. Now, standing like a tower, listening to words spoken and unspoken between the two fiery boys, she ground her teeth into a rock powder.
Turning them on the pivot axil of her heel, she made no word to indicate their follow her apart from the motion itself. Teeth forced together with such pressure and fists clenching her hold on patience and resistance of composure so powerful, any words uttered threatened to lay waste to both the boys from their complete, horrendous display and infuriation. High-heeled click of motion being the only source of direction as she led them away from her personal office and instead towards a familiar tower.

[exit to Owlery]



 

[Porcelaine Ivory]

яεġrετ┃ηστнιηġ ♦ ғεαя┃ησ σηε ♦ ταkε prιdε ιη┃εvεяyτнιηġ

Wary eyes jumped between the two Slytherin faces, searching for any underlying meaning as Professor Rosier unexpectedly returned Tay's wand to him without uttering so much as a single word. Colton held his ground as his murky gray eyes momentarily locked with the acid green of his Transfiguration teacher's, though his insides turned to stone under her murderous gaze. And all the while, somehow, something in her bright irises struck him as familiar. He wasn't sure what, and he wasn't sure why, but the knotting pain in his stomach had the feel of intuition.

Again without speaking, the unfaltering feline slunk away from the scene, with nothing but the sound of her fashionable high-heels to acknowledge the gesture. Exhaustion swept across his face as he glanced briefly in Nott's direction before trudging wearily up the stairs after her. It wasn't until they had risen several floors that the realization that they were headed away from the woman's office flooded over him, and the look of discontent that he wore on his face only sunk deeper into the lines of his face.

 

[Commander Aran]

Slip out the back before they know you were there

and at the worst you'll see nobody cares,

you don't want to be around when it all goes down...

Roi made his way down from Tay's last class as he sighed. Holding Tay's head with his hand as he went trough everything they learned today. He was honestly tired of the same routine. He couldn't wait till he laid siege to the castle, taking it over, and using it as his own private castle as he prepares a larger army. He was going over the war plans more and more in his mind. He thought maybe he should provide more support for Lord X instead of stabbing him in the back.

The crowd of students shuffled by as he had his little group follow him. He'd have to check in with Shin about how his mission was going when he got into the common room. This was something he wanted to keep tabs on.

╔══════════════╗
Location: Grand Staircase
Injuries: Headache.
Mood: Stressed.
╚══════════════╝

..even heroes know when to be scared.

 

[Maiya Kajuji]

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Trinity walked silently behind Roi. She needed to speak to him, she hadn't gotten a chance before the next class had started and then it was class after class until finally it was over. Any other day she would have immediately headed for the common room and figured things out from there but this was different. Trinity waited until most of the other students had gone to other classes, back to common rooms, or various other places through the large castle. After only a few moment the two were only on the stairs. She stepped forward and began to speak. "My Lord," she said with a bow "may I speak with you?" She asked not really caring for an answer. "You know that I of all people would never think to undermine you question your authority in any way but my I ask what in the bloody world were you thinking leaving Zane in charge?" She said, her voice beginning to grow louder. "He is a useless idiot! I have served you faithfully and obediently, never failing you or stepping out of line and honestly, I'm done with it! You promised me power, power I have yet to receive and power I do not believe I will get. I should be in charge of your army and you and I both know it!" Trinity practically screamed. Very rarely did she lose her temper. She was always angry and burned with hate but never did she act on it. It was something she had learned from her mother long ago, but this, this was something new, something she would not stand for.

ooc; outfit in last icon.
MADE BY PURPLEINATOR

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TRINITY WOOD
xxxxxxxxxxSecond Year Slytherin

 

[Commander Aran]

Slip out the back before they know you were there

and at the worst you'll see nobody cares,

you don't want to be around when it all goes down...

Flashes of green ripped through gold as Trinity did an outburst in front of him. If this was his time and era he would have sent her to be whipped and then tortured for a week. He listened to her complaint however as he simply stared coldly at her. When she finished he simply walked past her and continued down the staircase.

"My decisions are final Trinity. Plus I have more important plans for a queen." He said, calling the girl a queen yet again.

╔══════════════╗
Location: Grand Staircase with Trinity.
Injuries: Headache.
Mood: Angry.
╚══════════════╝

..even heroes know when to be scared.

 

[Maiya Kajuji]

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Trinity's cold glare quickly turned into her usual, dark smile. She took one step closer to him. "The queen and the Master" She said looking at him in an odd way "And what plans do you have for your queen" She spoke quietly and touched his face making sure he was looking at her. She stepped a bit closer.

ooc; outfit in last icon.
MADE BY PURPLEINATOR

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

TRINITY WOOD
xxxxxxxxxxSecond Year Slytherin

 

[Commander Aran]

Slip out the back before they know you were there

and at the worst you'll see nobody cares,

you don't want to be around when it all goes down...

Roi was immune to the touch, or at least, he was. A feeling welled up in the demon something that never existed since he was born. A feeling he couldn't believe he had. Still he brushed it away as he stared at her, halting his ace down the staircase. "You'll know when the time comes my dear." He said staring at her eyes as she took a step closer to him.

╔══════════════╗
Location: Grand Staircase with Trinity.
Injuries: None.
Mood: Strange.
╚══════════════╝

..even heroes know when to be scared.