DebonairRascal's profile picture. 'Revenge, the sweetest morsel to the mouth that ever was cooked in hell.' | Vampire Hybrid. | @NefariousMorale's son. | [ #HarryPotter ] | #ThirdGen

Isaac Montague

@DebonairRascal

'Revenge, the sweetest morsel to the mouth that ever was cooked in hell.' | Vampire Hybrid. | @NefariousMorale's son. | [ #HarryPotter ] | #ThirdGen

[ Isaac was aware of @EbullientDoll's presence and his lips twitched as he rose up from the couch to move to the door. He reached out,--


| Will be writing up a solo and a bio for Isaac.


[ Isaac remained silent as he watched @WinsomeViper as she sauntered about. He took in the sight of the smile that played along her --


-- and that's when he spotted her. Carina Malfoy. High as a bloody kite. How, utterly and devastatingly delicious.]


-- provide the small female with ample amount of attention; today wasn't that day. He looked from the darkling, and instead looked around --


[ Isaac looked up from his subjugate, who was muttering something about needing more blood or complimenting him. Whilst normally, he'd --


[ Thinks that @EbullientDoll should come over and get her fix.]


[ Looks around him with a bored expression playing across his visage. ]


Someone hasn't staked that bastard yet?


Show some respect. You want respect, @NefariousMorale? [ He turned around so that he could face her, his expression icy.] Every ounce of --


-- mind. It was a constant struggle to not let his mind drift back to the past, back to the times when happiness was more than just a word.]


-- can hardly mourn since you lose it each time that bastard shows his face. [ The memories threatened to pull him down into the abyss of --


-- brush stroke.] Do not proceed to tell me, how to deal with my grief. The only thing you've lost is your dignity, something which you --


-- [ He rose up from his seat in one, quick elegant movement. He moved to stand in front of the paintings, taking in each little brush --


You gave birth to me. Big whoop. Billions of women do it daily and they don't continue to throw it in front of their children's faces. --


-- mischief. All Isaac could do was stare at the images, lips pressed together tightly.]


-- smile. The other was of a boy, perhaps twelve or thirteen. He had dark blonde locks, a tall frame and an expression that spoke of --


-- appearance on this day. The one held a picture of a brunette woman in an old fashioned green gown, her lips drawn into a coy --


-- the light he couldn't make out much. He didn't need the light though, he knew the paintings. The paintings which only made their --


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