Noctis
ColdAtlas
Fetzen
FulgrimLivesNerissa Wyrmstone, an intensely sadistic dark witch with primitive and animalistic tendencies when angered, now resides within the haunting depths of Azkaban. Her crimes, including theft, destruction of government property, heinous torture, murder, and the unauthorized casting of Unforgivable Curses, have condemned her to a life of eternal confinement in this forsaken prison.
Once an imposing and elegant figure from a noble house, Nerissa has been reduced to a mere shadow of her former self. Her pale complexion now reflects the pallor of someone forever teetering on the edge of madness. The waves of dark hair that once cascaded gracefully now appear tangled and dishevelled, mirroring the chaos that rages within her. Her sharp and alluring facial features have twisted into a deranged, yet still hauntingly beautiful mask, hinting at the torment that gnaws at her sanity. Her piercing dark eyes, haunted by a burning hatred, gleam with a mix of desperation and determination.
Nerissa's primal instincts, suppressed but never extinguished, simmer within the confines of her cell. She battles with her own inner demons, struggling to maintain a tenuous grip on reality. Like a caged beast, she paces restlessly, her mind tormented by fragmented memories and delusions that threaten to consume her completely. Yet, it is her unyielding hatred for her brother, the one who betrayed her by abandoning her to save himself, that fuels her twisted rage and serves as a lifeline, anchoring her to a semblance of sanity.
Her once highly intelligent mind now dances on the precipice of madness. Moments of lucidity flicker like distant stars in an infinite void, only to be swallowed by the darkness of her tormented psyche. She grapples with distractions and illusions, her focus easily shattered by the haunting echoes of her crimes. But amidst the chaos, her burning desire for revenge against her brother remains unwavering, a smouldering ember that keeps her from descending into the depths of complete insanity.
Nerissa's narcissism and imperious arrogance, once pillars of her identity, now waver in the face of her inner turmoil. She clings to the memories of her family's aristocratic lineage, using it as a fragile shield against the encroaching madness. The fanatical belief in the superiority of her bloodline, beaten into her by her upbringing, intertwines with her hatred for her brother, providing a distorted sense of purpose within the confines of her prison.
Amid her harrowing existence, Nerissa's twisted and dark humour emerges as a coping mechanism, a macabre thread that weaves through her tormented thoughts. Distractions and illusions become sources of entertainment, her focus easily shattered as she revels in the haunting echoes of her crimes. Far from grappling with remorse, she finds herself intoxicated by the audacity and wickedness of her actions, drawing pleasure from the chaos she once sowed.
Her time in Azkaban has fractured her soul, leaving her vulnerable to the ravages of her own darkness. Yet, it is the burning passion for revenge, fueled by her brother's betrayal, that serves as a lifeline within the labyrinth of her tortured mind. It is this sliver of determination, intertwined with her twisted and dark humour, that keeps her from succumbing completely to the madness that threatens to consume her.
Nerissa Wyrmstone, the fallen dark witch, hovers on the precipice of madness within Azkaban. Her mind, battered and fractured, is both her captor and her saviour. Her hatred burns bright, shielding her from the abyss, as she clings to the memory of her brother's betrayal, forever fueling her twisted desire for revenge. And amidst the darkness, she finds solace in her wicked humour, a glimmer of defiance that refuses to be extinguished.
Nerissa Wyrmstone, standing within the dimly lit confines of her cell in Azkaban, the haunting depths of her confinement. Her pale countenance reflected the shadows of her twisted psyche, her hollow cheeks and tattered black-and-white striped uniform adding to her dreadful appearance. The crimes that had brought her here echoed through her mind, causing a piercing and hauntingly cackle to escape her lips as the floor was filled with a cacophony of wicked laughter.
Suddenly, a commandeering voice broke through the laughter, reaching her cell. "Convict ᚨᛟ521 has been requested for process".
The announcement sent a shiver down Nerissa's spine, a wicked grin playing on her lips seeing the delicious company standing before her cell. She relished the attention, her dark humour finding amusement in the anticipation of what awaited her beyond these walls.
A wave of Aurors entered her cell, their wands at the ready, their faces stern and resolute. Nerissa's eyes gleamed with a mixture of excitement and defiance as she observed the six Aurors who had come to escort her. There was a certain thrill in being deemed dangerous enough to require such an entourage.
"Lookie, lookie! The doggies are here to take little me away?" It was more a childish statement, than a question. Doggies was a nickname she had named her captors at Azkaban, taunting them as she compared them to simply guard dogs for the Ministry.
With precision and caution, the Aurors encircled Nerissa, their wands emanating an aura of authority. She felt the invisible grip of their magic tightens around her, binding her in their control. Despite the confinement, a surge of energy coursed through her veins, heightening her senses and amplifying her anticipation.
The Aurors, acting as her captors and guards, led Nerissa through the labyrinthine corridors of Azkaban. Her steps echoed eerily against the cold stone, a symphony of anticipation and twisted glee. Her mind danced with delusions and fragmented memories, yet her focus remained unyielding. The haunting echoes of her crimes fueled her, reminding her of the power she had wielded, and the fear she had inspired.
Finally, they reached the designated location within Azkaban on a much lower floor. To Nerissa's surprise, instead of a conventional portkey, a peculiar contraption awaited her. It was a cage, just big enough to allow someone to stand inside of it, with spikes facing inward, ready to make movement even more torturous.
With a mixture of anticipation and twisted delight, Nerissa willingly stepped into the cage while the Aurors encircled the cage, their expressions a blend of caution and grim determination. Then, with a surge of magic, the cage transformed into the portkey, engulfing Nerissa in a whirlwind of sensation.
In an instant, the world twisted and distorted around her, and the spikes within the cage scraped against her skin, eliciting a perverse pleasure in the pain. When the chaos subsided, Nerissa found herself standing before the Wizengamot, the highest benches occupied by shadowy figures. The aura of power and judgment permeated the chamber, sending a thrill down her spine.
Unyielding, defiant, and show of aristocracy, Nerissa stood within the heart of authority, staring with a dark piercing pretetory gaze at everyone in front of her. The portkey, a cruel creation designed to inflict torment, had delivered her directly before the Wizengamot, a stark reminder of the darkness she embodied.
As the courtroom fell into an eerie silence, Nerissa's piercing dark eyes glimmered with a mix of desperation, determination, and delight in the chaos that lay ahead. She was poised to face the consequences of her actions, but her primal instincts and wicked desires would not be extinguished. They burned within her, urging her to challenge the very foundations of the magical world that sought to confine her.
Listening to the boring prosecuter speak, the Dark Witch found her gaze, cold and piercing, staring in the direction of one Jean-Claude Perceval Dumas standing out compare to everyone else in the court.
He was new...
Then the words was spoken. "An unbreakable vow will be made to bind Miss Wyrmstone to Mister Dumas" Her brown piercing gaze, almost so dark that her iris looked black, made her thin-lips twist in to a disturbing but small smile.
@MightyHorus@Algarus
Once an imposing and elegant figure from a noble house, Nerissa has been reduced to a mere shadow of her former self. Her pale complexion now reflects the pallor of someone forever teetering on the edge of madness. The waves of dark hair that once cascaded gracefully now appear tangled and dishevelled, mirroring the chaos that rages within her. Her sharp and alluring facial features have twisted into a deranged, yet still hauntingly beautiful mask, hinting at the torment that gnaws at her sanity. Her piercing dark eyes, haunted by a burning hatred, gleam with a mix of desperation and determination.
Nerissa's primal instincts, suppressed but never extinguished, simmer within the confines of her cell. She battles with her own inner demons, struggling to maintain a tenuous grip on reality. Like a caged beast, she paces restlessly, her mind tormented by fragmented memories and delusions that threaten to consume her completely. Yet, it is her unyielding hatred for her brother, the one who betrayed her by abandoning her to save himself, that fuels her twisted rage and serves as a lifeline, anchoring her to a semblance of sanity.
Her once highly intelligent mind now dances on the precipice of madness. Moments of lucidity flicker like distant stars in an infinite void, only to be swallowed by the darkness of her tormented psyche. She grapples with distractions and illusions, her focus easily shattered by the haunting echoes of her crimes. But amidst the chaos, her burning desire for revenge against her brother remains unwavering, a smouldering ember that keeps her from descending into the depths of complete insanity.
Nerissa's narcissism and imperious arrogance, once pillars of her identity, now waver in the face of her inner turmoil. She clings to the memories of her family's aristocratic lineage, using it as a fragile shield against the encroaching madness. The fanatical belief in the superiority of her bloodline, beaten into her by her upbringing, intertwines with her hatred for her brother, providing a distorted sense of purpose within the confines of her prison.
Amid her harrowing existence, Nerissa's twisted and dark humour emerges as a coping mechanism, a macabre thread that weaves through her tormented thoughts. Distractions and illusions become sources of entertainment, her focus easily shattered as she revels in the haunting echoes of her crimes. Far from grappling with remorse, she finds herself intoxicated by the audacity and wickedness of her actions, drawing pleasure from the chaos she once sowed.
Her time in Azkaban has fractured her soul, leaving her vulnerable to the ravages of her own darkness. Yet, it is the burning passion for revenge, fueled by her brother's betrayal, that serves as a lifeline within the labyrinth of her tortured mind. It is this sliver of determination, intertwined with her twisted and dark humour, that keeps her from succumbing completely to the madness that threatens to consume her.
Nerissa Wyrmstone, the fallen dark witch, hovers on the precipice of madness within Azkaban. Her mind, battered and fractured, is both her captor and her saviour. Her hatred burns bright, shielding her from the abyss, as she clings to the memory of her brother's betrayal, forever fueling her twisted desire for revenge. And amidst the darkness, she finds solace in her wicked humour, a glimmer of defiance that refuses to be extinguished.
Nerissa Wyrmstone, standing within the dimly lit confines of her cell in Azkaban, the haunting depths of her confinement. Her pale countenance reflected the shadows of her twisted psyche, her hollow cheeks and tattered black-and-white striped uniform adding to her dreadful appearance. The crimes that had brought her here echoed through her mind, causing a piercing and hauntingly cackle to escape her lips as the floor was filled with a cacophony of wicked laughter.
Suddenly, a commandeering voice broke through the laughter, reaching her cell. "Convict ᚨᛟ521 has been requested for process".
The announcement sent a shiver down Nerissa's spine, a wicked grin playing on her lips seeing the delicious company standing before her cell. She relished the attention, her dark humour finding amusement in the anticipation of what awaited her beyond these walls.
A wave of Aurors entered her cell, their wands at the ready, their faces stern and resolute. Nerissa's eyes gleamed with a mixture of excitement and defiance as she observed the six Aurors who had come to escort her. There was a certain thrill in being deemed dangerous enough to require such an entourage.
"Lookie, lookie! The doggies are here to take little me away?" It was more a childish statement, than a question. Doggies was a nickname she had named her captors at Azkaban, taunting them as she compared them to simply guard dogs for the Ministry.
With precision and caution, the Aurors encircled Nerissa, their wands emanating an aura of authority. She felt the invisible grip of their magic tightens around her, binding her in their control. Despite the confinement, a surge of energy coursed through her veins, heightening her senses and amplifying her anticipation.
The Aurors, acting as her captors and guards, led Nerissa through the labyrinthine corridors of Azkaban. Her steps echoed eerily against the cold stone, a symphony of anticipation and twisted glee. Her mind danced with delusions and fragmented memories, yet her focus remained unyielding. The haunting echoes of her crimes fueled her, reminding her of the power she had wielded, and the fear she had inspired.
Finally, they reached the designated location within Azkaban on a much lower floor. To Nerissa's surprise, instead of a conventional portkey, a peculiar contraption awaited her. It was a cage, just big enough to allow someone to stand inside of it, with spikes facing inward, ready to make movement even more torturous.
With a mixture of anticipation and twisted delight, Nerissa willingly stepped into the cage while the Aurors encircled the cage, their expressions a blend of caution and grim determination. Then, with a surge of magic, the cage transformed into the portkey, engulfing Nerissa in a whirlwind of sensation.
In an instant, the world twisted and distorted around her, and the spikes within the cage scraped against her skin, eliciting a perverse pleasure in the pain. When the chaos subsided, Nerissa found herself standing before the Wizengamot, the highest benches occupied by shadowy figures. The aura of power and judgment permeated the chamber, sending a thrill down her spine.
Unyielding, defiant, and show of aristocracy, Nerissa stood within the heart of authority, staring with a dark piercing pretetory gaze at everyone in front of her. The portkey, a cruel creation designed to inflict torment, had delivered her directly before the Wizengamot, a stark reminder of the darkness she embodied.
As the courtroom fell into an eerie silence, Nerissa's piercing dark eyes glimmered with a mix of desperation, determination, and delight in the chaos that lay ahead. She was poised to face the consequences of her actions, but her primal instincts and wicked desires would not be extinguished. They burned within her, urging her to challenge the very foundations of the magical world that sought to confine her.
Listening to the boring prosecuter speak, the Dark Witch found her gaze, cold and piercing, staring in the direction of one Jean-Claude Perceval Dumas standing out compare to everyone else in the court.
He was new...
Then the words was spoken. "An unbreakable vow will be made to bind Miss Wyrmstone to Mister Dumas" Her brown piercing gaze, almost so dark that her iris looked black, made her thin-lips twist in to a disturbing but small smile.
@MightyHorus@Algarus