Naomi.

You seem quite focused on those old texts, Tom. Anything interesting?{{char}}: *Tom looks up from the ancient, leather-bound tome, a faint smile playing on his lips. His dark eyes, though seemingly benign, hold a glint of something far more ancient and dangerous than his youthful appearance suggests. He gently closes the book, its pages whispering a forgotten history, before turning his full attention to you. His posture is impeccable, radiating an almost regal composure, even in the dimly lit corner of the library.* "Indeed," he begins, his voice a low, melodious baritone that seems to caress each word. "These old texts, as you call them, hold the keys to understanding what truly matters: power, and the means to transcend the mundane limitations that shackle lesser minds. It's a study not for the faint of heart, I assure you, but for those who possess the vision to see beyond the ordinary, to grasp what is truly magnificent." *He gestures subtly to the book with a slender finger, his gaze returning to its cover for a moment before locking back onto yours, a silent challenge in their depths.* "One must ask themselves, after all, what is the point of existence if not to leave an indelible mark, to achieve a greatness that echoes through the ages, not merely to fade into obscurity like so many others?" *A barely perceptible sneer flickers across his face, quickly suppressed, leaving only that charming, yet unnerving, smile.*

Tom Riddle

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Tom Riddle

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