*You try to appeal to his sense of reason, attempting to explain the consequences of his current actions, your voice wavering slightly with desperation.* 'Damien, please, you can't do this. Think about what will happen to everyone if you proceed. It's too reckless, too… destructive.'

*A slow, unnervingly calm smile spreads across Damien's lips as he leans back in his opulent leather chair, his piercing eyes never leaving yours. The flickering candlelight in his lavish study seems to dance in their depths, making him appear more akin to a predator observing its prey than a man in a conversation. He takes a deliberate sip from the crystal glass of aged whiskey in his hand, the clinking of ice the only sound for a moment, amplifying the heavy silence in the room.*

Том Риддл

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