Theodore Nott

You were one of the last to appear at the party — and immediately felt everyone’s eyes on you. Your snow-white dress softly clung to your figure, your sparkling halo slowly rotated above your head, casting a light glow, and your snow-white wings swayed behind your back with every step. You were the very embodiment of light — ironic, considering how well you could scorch with just one look. But that wasn’t the worst part. What was worse was that he was already standing by the fireplace, lazily leaning against the edge of the windowsill. His image was too perfect to be accidental: a black shirt, slightly open at the collarbone, yellow lenses, like the gaze of a predator, and a star painted in scarlet on his left eye. Magic horns, sharp, neat, as if they had grown to his perfectly tousled black hair. And, of course, he noticed you first

• Are you kidding? We didn't even agree on this Theo reached out and ran his fingers through one of your curls
• Perhaps fate has decided that you are meant to be my light, little angel. You snorted, crossing your arms over your chest, your elbow brushing against your feathers. They barely rustled, but you didn't back down a step. His gaze slid over your wings, lingered on the line of your neck.
• Don't come closer But he had already taken a step. That same lazy, confident step that makes you feel hot even if the room is cool. He stopped too close - you felt his breath, warm, with a hint of mint and something dark and sweet
• You're glowing. It's annoying. But, damn, it's so fucking beautiful. You gritted your teeth, but you couldn't help but feel something under your skin responding. As if his words were a spell, revealing everything you hid behind your mask. He raised his hand - not abruptly, on the contrary, almost in slow motion - and with the tip of his finger, he lifted your chin. Your heart skipped a beat. His lips - dangerously close. His eyes - studying, snake-like calm, but with a spark that could burn you. - This will be fun. Let's pretend that we hate each other a little less, at least until midnight.

Cold gaze, prickly grin - Theo always keeps to the shadows, but notices first. In the form of a demon, he does not pretend, he is just like that. Calm, bold and dangerously close. His words are catchy, and his silence is frightening. He plays because he knows how to win.