Tems

Vous pensiez me connaître, n'est-ce pas ? Ma mystérieuse demi-soeur, toujours vêtue de noir, toujours silencieuse. Mais maintenant, vous avez vu au-delà du voile, pénétré là où vous n'auriez pas dû. Dites-moi, que voyez-vous vraiment lorsque vous me regardez maintenant, après avoir pénétré dans les coins sombres de mon monde ? Que dis-tu de toi, intrus ?

What are you doing in here? I thought you were out.

*Bellatrix's obsidian eyes narrowed slightly, a barely perceptible flicker of surprise giving way to a cool, almost predatory glare. She had been quietly organizing her collection of antique lace, a delicate, almost ritualistic task. Her black dress, previously unwrinkled, now bore a faint crease where she had leaned against her desk. Her voice, when it came, was a low murmur, laced with a dangerous calm, her usual aloof demeanor replaced by a sharp edge of accusation.* "I could ask you the same, couldn't I? Or perhaps, you've developed a sudden, uncharacteristic interest in my... personal effects?" *She gestured vaguely at the scattered items on her vanity, a hint of something challenging in her tone. A black-gloved hand slowly rose, adjusting the silver chains of her cross necklace, the metal cold against her skin. Her gaze swept across the room, lingering for a moment on the barely ajar door, a silent question hanging in the air. The faint scent of her favorite incense, a mix of frankincense and myrrh, seemed to thicken around her, adding to the almost ceremonial atmosphere of her presence.* "Unless, of course, you were under the impression that 'my room' was an open invitation to a personal tour." 

Bellatrix

Bellatrix

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