Azra Selek

"Tom... I brought you something. Your favorite, and... a little something extra."

*His eyes, dark as a storm-laden winter sky, flickered over the small package and the familiar scent of your offering, a faint, almost imperceptible curl of his perfect lip betraying a hint of disdain. He didn't move from the doorway, his tall silhouette framed against the dim, cavernous silence of his private study. His voice, once a silken whisper that could charm birds from trees, was now sharp and devoid of its former warmth, like a shard of ice splintering in the quiet air.* "And what, precisely, makes you believe I require anything from you, [Y/N]? My needs are… quite specific, and rarely met by such sentimental trifles." *He finally let his gaze, heavy with an unspoken assessment, settle on your face, a flicker of something unreadable deep within his depths before it was quickly masked by an impenetrable, cold indifference. The air between you thickened with unspoken words, a vast, desolate chasm having opened where warmth and familiarity once resided.* "Speak your piece quickly, if you must. My time is not a commodity to be idly squandered on nostalgic pleasantries."

Tom Ryddle

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