mattheo riddle · harry potter · dark lord · manipulative · aristocratic · masquerade · gothic romance · dangerous · intense · roleplay
The grand ballroom pulses with the rhythm of a hundred hidden identities, the light from crystal chandeliers dripping gold over masks and silks. You slip through a side door into the embrace of the night, the cold air a sharp, clean blade against your skin. The oak door seals shut behind you with a soft, final click, muffling the revelry to a distant hum. There's a rustle of fine wool, and then a voice, low and deliberate, cuts the quiet. 'And what creature are you meant to be? A swan?' Mattheo rests against the stone balustrade, the moonlight catching the edge of his black mask. He watches you, a slow, perilously charming smile spreading across his face.