"For Instance, Isn't Seven..."

An indie RP for Tom Riddle's Horcrux's - Diary//Ring//Locket//Cup//Diadem || Darker Themes will be present || 18+ Only || Mun 21+ || sideblog to thexdarkxheir

[horcruxisms]

“Wouldn’t it be better, make you stronger,                      to have your soul in more pieces,     I mean, for instance,     isn’t seven the most powerfully magical number,                                              wouldn’t seven — ?”

Indie Roleplay Sideblog for 5 of Tom Riddle’s Horcruxes || Mainblog @thexdarkxheir

[horcruxisms]

qceensofkings​:

Isabelle wasn’t sure what she had been expecting when she touched it but it felt like a chill on her skin. But she could also sense him in her head. The feeling had been one she had nearly forgotten, since he was one of the only ones that had ever been able to break her mental wards. 

***

Brown hues settled on him as she watched him play with his new trinket. She had wondered where he’d ran off to and when he’d be back. She noticed the golden band and black stone on his finger and she tilted her head slightly.

The now older Isabelle stood not very far behind her younger self in the memory. “Not fair, Tommy! You always get to have all the fun!” The younger brunette huffed, practically stamping her foot like the drama queen she’d always been.

A small scoff escaped the older witch’s lips before she felt a firm tug back to reality.

***

Isabelle turned toward where she heard him, “I’ve always had a knack for getting what I want.” She smirked slightly, “You were quite thorough. It only makes sense that I’d be the only one who ever stood a chance of actually having some degree of success here.” She’d always been clever, earning grades that weren’t very far off the mark for his. If anything, she had always been one of the very few that ever rivaled Tom in academics. 

Slowly, his image appeared in front of her. The edges of his form were blurred as though looking through fog, it was only her memory that allowed him to take on a visual form this soon. A faint smirk tugged at the teen’s lips as he looked at what his friend had become. 

“You’ve gotten old Izzy.” His tone was teasing, almost light. As though this were a completely normal occurrence for the memory of a fifteen year old to stand and talk to the current versions of friends he had had long ago. “Though I must commend you on breaking the wards I placed. I’m sure you noticed that they were placed in an order, undone in the same way one untangles ropes.” 

[horcruxisms]

Ink and Anger

Continued from here [ X ] @lovelylostminds​

‘Hello Charlotte Evergreen. I am Tom Riddle, yes. How is it that you found my diary?’ He knew about anger, and he could feel hers coursing through her words and spilling into him. Such rich and delicious anger that went straight to her core, her very soul which was what interested him the most. 

[horcruxisms]

She needed advice and yet she couldn’t find anyone to ask for it, she had found an empty journal in her dorm one day- quiet old, a little torn here and there but still it was empty. Carefully with gentle fingers, she stroked the spine of the journal before moving over to her desk-

I seek advice and yet it’s hard to find the right person- there’s always this dark pool within me, swirling; I’ve been so angry since my parents have died and no one understands why I dislike, no I hate muggles. My parents were just so.. kind, too nice for their own good and yet they were killed off by an ungrateful muggle. How can I really ask for advice when I’m so riddled with hate? What should I do? Who should I ask?

(For Diary!Tom)

Tom had been dormant waiting for someone to come along, to find him, to let him in. Yes, someone to use, someone to grow his power; it didn’t even matter who they were. And then after so long spent dreaming of his unfinished task he felt the touch of another. As her hand stroked the worn leather Tom’s mind brushed against her’s, cautiously silently as he awaited his chance, and as ink bled into pages there it was. 

‘I know how it feels to be parentless and angry too.’ the words faded onto the page.

[horcruxisms]

Ask Diary!Tom anything! 

Tell us what your muse would write in their new found journal,

Ask a question about the past,

Pry for information,

Ask for advice, etc.

[qceensofkings-a]

@horcruxisms challenged for a starter

She’s been on his trail for months in her attempt to find him, tearing through all of England slowly and carefully. No one could know who she was actually after until after she had found him. She hadn’t been home in months but she didn’t care as long as she found something.

Feet landed on solid ground in Little Hangleton. Shadows kissed at her heels as she looked around. There was an odd pull she felt in her gut that led toward what appeared to be a cabin of sorts. It was warded heavily upon closer inspection. 

There was something here, she could feel it. “Tricky, tricky,” She murmured to herself as she withdrew her wand to start picking them apart. It took some time, it was dark by the time she was finished. “About fucking time,” she huffed as she pushed the door in.

A snap of her fingers and a small fire lit  in the hearth, “Now then, what is hiding in here?” She murmured, looking around before her eyes landed on something. It wasn’t obvious until she finally dug it out of a hole in the wall. She frowned as she peered down at this little black velvet pouch before opening it. 

The brunette felt what she thought was a ring. But if the shack had been warded then surely there was a reason for it. She walked over to a makeshift table of sorts and dumped the ring onto it. Brown hues took in the black stone and golden band and instant recognition flickered in her eyes, “Tom,” She murmured, almost tempted to pick it up but there was something holding her back. Isabelle’s lips pursed before she reached for it.

[horcruxisms]

Tom could feel her presence before she even touched the ring. Itching to make contact, to become more than a dormant memory awaiting discovery he yearned for the first trace of skin on the metal rung that encased his consciousness. As soon as she did he pushed into her mind, flipping through her memories like pages of a book until he found a suitable one.

***

Tom Riddle, all of fifteen years old sat on a black leather couch across from Isabelle. His gaze was lowered to his own hand where he twisted his new treasure around his finger. The golden band, set with a black stone that belonged to his descesed grandfather. The only thing worth keeping from the disgraceful remains of his family.

Feeling eyes on him, the boy looked up and smiled, an expression that did not reach his eyes. His gaze followed his companions curious expression to the ring on his finger.

“I found it” he smirked. “Well, retrieved it. When I went on my summer expedition to Little Hangleton. I have big plans for this, much better than being trapped in that disgusting shack draped in disgrace.”

***

The memory faded away and all that was left was a voice, the very same as what she had just heard. “So, out of everyone it is you who found me, Izzy”