#I wanted him to have a face tat too but it seems Victorians were more into just body tats so I will probs stick to it

[thedailyvio]

Day 266

[hrhbella]

Are You?

Pairing: Tom Riddle x OC [Isabella Rosier]

Word Count: 1.2k words

Summary: Someone(s) from Isabella's past appear in their future.

Warnings: N/A; [While other characters I have little to no grasp on (I.e. her brother, Evan Rosier, etc.), Isabella's existence in the Harry Potter Universe is entirely my own creation. I can show you the forethought of her, if you wish.

Author’s Note: This multi chapter work started its planning back in late 2019. Since I have sporadically wrote chapters in no particular order, but because of this I am thinking through changing a large aspect of my plot, which renders this posted edition (found here) of the work useless. Please enjoy, but reach out if you have time to help brainstorm and/or proof reader on an ongoing basis. Desperately want to put this idea onto paper in an orderly fashion. -B

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December 1996

Isabella had been researching in the Rosier library for most of the morning when the yew doors swing open with poise, something that the patriarch of the family was not possessing as he storms into the Victorian-accented room,

“When in Godric’s name did you think it would be fitting to mention you were being shagged by my old schoolmate?" Mr. Rosier’s grip on the back of the settee opposite his daughter was stiff, the wood within creaking under the pressure.

“What?” Isabella murmurs, deep in concentration with the pages in front of her.

“Or was it you who persuaded him into being intimate?" Louis Rosier waves his own words away, pushing a hand through his greying hair, "Oh, of course not.” He watches impatiently as her slim finger follows a line in the tome.

“Rosier, I must ins-“ The young man whose gaze hadn't left Louis Rosier's daughter starts, though this only seems to animate the poorly veiled distressed look on the older man.

Paying no mind to her father, Isabella stumbles upon a most interesting passage: An underrated and forgotten hex is the Knee-Reversal hex. Developed prior to the year 1000, the Knee-Reversal hex has proved to be withstanding of the tests of time, though the same cannot be said of those on the receiving end. The incantation, Genu Transuerso, can be translated to-

Without looking up, Isabella reaches for her tea, “Have you been nursing that decanter of yours again? My, it’s only Tuesday, Papa.”

“Isabella Catherine Rosier!” Louis breathes deeply, “Are you or are you not copulating with the Dark Lord?"

His face flames a deep shade of scarlet and his left hand is itching to grab hold of his wand. He was slowly losing his patience, something that had become increasingly difficult over time, and now he was having a difficult time keeping his voice in check.

The remaining two young men, who have their eyes glued to the scene folding out in front of them, both attempt to swallow their anxiety. The thought of looking to the young man, the one they have just started to call the Dark Lord, between them seems to ping between them but both keep obedient eyes on the two Rosier's.

Isabella stills the tea with her other hand as the cup hovers over the book, though she is tracing the wand movements on the page with her eyes. “Papa, I only was allowed at a meeting just last-“

Louis wallops a vase and its plate off the hall table, gripping the settee’s edge with a new force. “Were you bumping uglies with Tom Riddle? Or are you still?”

The volume of his voice fills the vaulted room. Two of the young men flinch, though unnoticeable to anyone but their companion between them, and Isabella jerks her teacup causing a fair amount to slosh onto the diagram below.

“Shite! It simply is-“ Isabella started, though she still hasn't truly registered the words he's verbally hurling at her.

“It simply, what? You simply fell onto him? I know he is a fit young man, believe me, I am aware, but what possessed you to- to do it?” Louis rounds the back of the settee, putting a heavy hand onto its arm.

"Scourgify!" she harshly murmurs, waving her hand flippantly over the page while setting the cup away far from the various tomes stacked in front of her. “Really, Papa? I was under the impression you had more decorum than that.” Bumping uglies? Do it? Seriously, was he a second year?

“Did Malfoy put you up to this? We both know how low they have fallen but you mustn’t think that jumping onto Tom Riddle and-“

“Draco wouldn’t ever ask me to remedy a situation for him, do you even know the Malfoy’s, Papa? I can’t even believe you wou-" She slams one hand onto the tome, rattling everything on the cocktail table. The other shoots up to feel for the necklace hiding beneath her top. "Tom?”

Isabella’s head snaps towards her father, who seems to be physically forcing himself to take a breath in and push the air back out. Her cerulean eyes quickly fall onto the young men standing just within the threshold of the room. It takes reminding herself of all the years of formality her father and brother ingrained into her very soul to keep her mouth from meeting the carpet.

“Oh, Merlin’s beard,” Isabella breathes out.

“Yes. Merlin’s beard," Louis grinds out, forehead scrunching up, "You see, I was going to approve the monthly expenditures from Twilfitt and Tattings, Flourish and Blott’s, the likes.” He shoves a finger towards Isabella “I do have to discuss the ungodly amount spent at Cobb and Webb’s with you. But instead of an unoccupied office, I found myself digging through my desk. You must understand how this might have me bothered as not only I was already in my office, but as was Theodoros Nott and, as I am now aware you have been more than acquainted with, Tom Riddle.”

The pregnant pause that fills the library is heavier than a troll.

“Papa, this is not the best time to delve into this. It is quite a complicated circumstance.”

She steadily said, but her eyes kept darting from each of the men in front of her, not knowing where it was worse to look. She was starting to trace the outline of the metal beneath her top, letting the fibers rub into the pad of her finger.

“Oh, is it tea time?” Another vase shatters onto the floor, “Forgive me but I seem to be presenting more pressing matters." Louis locks his gaze with Isabella, willing her to show an ounce of remorse for him having to push through with this conversation. "Now, Bella darling. My only daughter. Are you having sex with Tom Riddle?”

Isabella can feel her mind starting to throb as she searches for something appropriate to say,

”Are you intimate with the Dark Lord?” Louis rasps out.

The rooms, walls, and chests inside of Isabella’s wits begin to crumble on themselves, leading to, by far, one of the most embarrassing responses she could think to give to her dear Papa.

“Evidently, yes.”

Louis Rosier could no longer hold himself up, collapsing onto the settee with a hand to his chest. His next words came out close to a whisper, “Merlin’s beard, Isabella.” He shoots a quick glance over his shoulder, “Do you know who he is?”

She stares into Tom Riddle’s deep chocolate eyes, “Yes, Papa.”

The two Rosiers seem to find anything but the other pulling their gaze until a voice sound from just in front of the door,

“Blimey, have I always been like this?” Sixteen-year-old Louis Rosier speaks up, glancing disapprovingly towards the aged wizard in front of them.

“Quite.” Theodoros Nott quips, eyes zipping towards Tom. One could never be too sure of what might prompt the young Dark Lord.

“And you most definitely have not gotten better with time, Rosier.” Tom watched the older Rosier pulling at his hair but turns his attention back towards Isabella with a charming smirk. "I apologize, Rosier. I am afraid I did not have time to owl ahead."

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[timelostcarrion]

Mirror

‘In waiting am I.’

A dangerous exchange, a shallow curved blade that met nothing but the flesh of cheek and raked up into the eye, cutting flesh with the smoothness of a fresh scalpel. Steel reefing glasses off and to the floor a deal of distance, rupturing all sight to one eye, hopeful to leave a nasty mark. It wasn’t going to go unanswered.

‘Listening. Feeling. Experiencing. I am apart of you as you are me.’

Erupting anger with a guttural snarl, crude, bone like claws pierce through clothing, ripping the flesh clean and deep across like an animal, spilling the flow of blood to the floor, tearing muscle. But no guts to be had unfortunately. Oh not yet.

A cry of pain. Distance had to be made, a heavy result of two recoiling away from each other to tend wounds.

An audible crunch of glass resonated within the panting filled atmosphere and followed with a resounding growl, the open space was arena cleared and left a mess, the marble floor scattered and littered in decor that was present before this fight broken out. It wasn’t a clean one either obviously, blood droplets left tats on the white marble, smeared, desperate, and extreme to the worse, mixed and mostly belonging to one and another. Especially her... It was a vicious sight to see... it glistened in the firelight of heavy, chain hanging lamps from the columns.

‘Her strength may be pain, but that doesn’t mean she’s unstoppable.’

With the twist of a boot on the hard stained floor, the once familiar victorian doctor further crushed a pair of glasses that were under the sole, hunched forward and tattered with varying wounds that oozed blood and stained over the brim of her clothing. It left her cold and more deathly pale from what she’d usually be, the blood loss so bad that the negatives were starting to take hold of her, more obvious by the dark rings under her eye, darker than usual. Tunnel vision all locked on her suited opponent. What crimson scattered and spilled was mostly hers, looking alike she was hit with a barrage of knives for how vicious the assault looked. Her once elegant clothing shredded, torn and pulled to appear like rags almost, she’d not have had her coat with her upon arrival either. Exposure of skin and the wounds deep, one similar to her enduring a failed disembowelling attempt from her adversary not long ago and still pulsing fresh with gravity claiming the flow from her to the floor, heavy in droplets. Ever more was her dominant arm not up to par anymore and out of commission, dangling, dislocated as it swayed in her movements. Or worse... broken, it wasn’t too well for her and the worse in the horizon. She looked like a mess. But... Neither a proper weapon was she holding, and left only with a bloody amputations blade that she kept hidden away. It wasn’t as efficient as a normal one would be, but it was a must and her only choice.

‘What once deadly grace. That case no longer counts anymore, her body was failing and the pain no longer holding its luster. Drawing such recklessness, instead of fluency... You’re acting more like the unrelenting and malicious, bloodletting presence within you. You’re acting like me aren’t you? My... you’re a moron, you’re doing it all wrong...’

The doctor wasn’t too interested in using her other abilities. A knife fight? A duel? Not at all was she going to turn it down and ruin it. Her opponent had it close enough and she had confidence in using a knife herself. Unfortunately her acquaintance didn’t fair first hand... a man lied far behind the doctor, out of both reaches of the woman and adversary, unconscious. Josiah is trying to protect him. Her kind fairness was dwindling though, she was losing more like.

Through tinted lenses of that metallic mask, an eye was honed in and locked upon the one that gazed back at her with a displeased look, bloodied and holding a hand against the nasty gash of a wound over his eye she left behind that, just about as fresh as her wounds.

Josiah could only return the look more harshly, the snarl and visible anger, manifesting madness that was hidden beneath that mask and concealed a warped grin. Overflowing with aggression that was weakening overtime as the sensations of defeat tried to discourage her. Being a big influence to her rage display here, further more that this ravaging individual harmed her companion. It mixed two and two, never was it a good combo. She can’t stand the thought of failure. Just couldn’t, the overwhelming frustration, justification was hard if one wasn’t succeeding. She was convoked along to help... resolve this issue. It felt as if she was making it worse. Of all fights that she was left with? Knox, the wannabe tyrant. The eldest of the leonte family, it was clear there were difficulties. Goddammit Liam... how could you ditch him with me? Not that it was Liam’s fault he couldn’t handle his brother. She had to step in.

After all, it may had felt like a knife fight until compared to the beastly traits of the man before her. It seemed simple, it really wasn’t.

She had to catch her breath, but now was she lasting on borrowed time. What pain was thrusted into her, what ferocity she endured, the tearing of flesh by vicious, knife like claws, the human body wasn’t able to sustain so much for so long, her tolerance was becoming her weakness. Clearly he suffered just as much with vicious slashes, deep and non, but oh, not like her wounds. He wasn’t human either and that was clear to Josiah even if he looked like one.

Knox though could only watch, his eye squinting as his head tilted to the side, black bangs swung over his right greyed eye that had a vertical gash and was now ruptured, held safely though and not counting its ability to help. It was visible and old damage, left blind regardless beforehand... no matter, he could always replace those glasses too besides the healing process though. The drawing blood trickled off beneath his palm and through fingers, it hurt but he will manage. If he so got out of this fight as well, Knox had to tear enough bone plates formed by the slashing wounds, off. It was his protection from bleeding out, but also his bane. Thankfully it wasn’t present amongst his face. The damage left varying gouges in his flesh and butchered his once gentlemanly clothing that- all even done by the hands of one. If anything- fair trade, ruin hers, she ruins his formality right back too. Sagged and dampened in his own blood, but as well hers. He’d never seen the doctor act out like this ever, at first was she so... lovely. A graceful blade dancer, which was replaced with this frenzied mess that was swinging a blade with all her might and what rapid strokes she could, no longer the hand of a doctor but the claws of a butcher. This wasn’t like her at all. He didn’t need to see under the mask to feel what pulsed from her, it wasn’t fluent anymore and oh so wide open and sloppy. Desperate. He was going to bleed her dry before she could sink her blood craving blade into him once more. Knox would watch the doctor shift and twitch from her hunkered state, his bone consistent claws that punctured through his fingertips flexed amongst his freehand as if he was preparing for her next assault. He could see the loss and despairing nature clawing it’s way out of her, the way she was eager to make him bleed now and no longer harbouring her style he was trying so hard to avoid at first. This little blade dancer wasn’t holding up the tempo and dance anymore they had, all under pure discord now, how unfortunate. Though she sure held up better than Liam had. Knox disregarded him easily.

“You don’t look so good...”

Taunting, his voice ghosted with a rumbling chuckle and spreading smile. But adding along.

“Where did all that evasion go? How long do you think you’ll last before you fall without it?”

In response, all that would emanate from Josiah was a strained, but unhinged chuckled that warped into a murmur. Like she was trying to say something, but the plummeting wicked aggravation spilled and all that murmuring turned into a sheer cry of ballistic laughter that echoed into the open room, she really couldn’t laugh through her oncoming defeat, the resonating sound receded to a scream shortly after. A bloody blade rose, wobbling in her footing for only a moment before she’d go full force and propel her weight straight ahead at him, to her best abilities did she try and ignore the pains restless force that throbbed lively throughout her being and no longer enticed her, even worse that such sudden movements elicited pain to shoot through her useless arm. She will bear it.

Josiah blitzed at him and in such a foolish way could she in this state. Uncoordinated not lacking calculation, disgusting bloodlust just encouraged her need to behead and dismantle this failed king, she just wanted him dead. This violence rang out. This couldn’t be suppressed... this feeling. Nothing else was working, even her screaming conscious that was smothered out foremost. The rationality. She lost herself... the fear of losing, the raging humiliation. Her sense of protection. What she felt may stay present, but the strength was fading like her light.

Yes... just as he’d wanted, such hate to fill the air. Knox opened his arms almost welcoming her to come at him, pulling his bloody hand from his face and exposing the vicious gash as blood fell from his palm. He could see the faulting demeanour and surely enough he was going to see it with his own eyes, this weakened doctor. His fingers coiled in partially, bloodied claws waiting to tear flesh once more. This fit of aggression was going to be her last. It felt almost slow motion once he’d watch her blade thrust forward and up.

He knew where she was going, right for his throat. Before blade met flesh by mere inches, Knox had did a bit of a pivot spin and duck, completely avoiding her and the blade that whizzed by.

Josiah’s breathing slowed, the look on her face, the grin crumbled as she practically thrown herself right passed him. Wide eyed, before she could stop her momentum or even turn her head all the way, it all happened in the blink of an eye. A sharp pain tore through the side of her head, forcefully making her head crane up to the side and throwing her gaze to the ceiling with a hitched gasp leaving her lips. She could feel the weight of her mask release and her footing slow. The loud ruckus of metal hitting the marble floor with a skid present and echoed in the heavy air as the vibrations through the adornment shattered the lenses, Knox had cut the two straps of her mask loose and clean off in one stroke, sending it to the floor. But not without her as well. Josiah’s footing slowed down to the point where she’d stagger and buckle, falling down onto her knees with her head throwing to a hang, her blade dropping just before she did and mirrored almost the same sound of clatter. It left her reeling within her mind now and completely burned suddenly from the hit, it wasn’t light either even for a slash.

Her entire figure slumped forward and hardly kept upwards in balance, blood coated down the side of her head and hair from the three slashes left behind, and flowed down to her neck from the removal, she could feel the warmth absorb into her unraveled cravat and button up collar.

The brief fear she had was that she’d gotten her throat shredded open from the way her blood trickled down it and the muscles that ached within, thank god was she wrong and her senses played a fool. So... soothing to be felt. But not the endurance anymore that was given all in one more blow. The look on her face was no longer a blast furnace of ballistic frenzy, and instead replaced with shock and loss. Pain. What the hell was that about? She felt sick now as everything subsided... Like she was going to fall forward, making her upper half sway and send fresh droplets to the floor as her hair caught weight of the blood and dangled heavily. How could she even let herself succumb to such savage and vulgar emotion...? Even let alone letting it take the reigns. So much distortion, so much static. Making her mad was one thing- but it didn’t go her way either.

‘Absolute moron... I don’t need to see to know you’re failing. You’re going to get us both killed. I’m coming...’

The doctor could hear the heavy steps of Knox, the way he’d strut was obvious to her that he was cocky enough to assume victory. He was right to feel that way too... though not hearing them move any closer and remain at a distance. In dead, embarrassed silence, her head stayed down as her arms motionlessly hung. Festering strength, it was lost and hardly persisting. What had she done? She’d lost. She failed and had failed to protect her companion now that she was down. Physically present though was a visible tremor rippling through her, the blood loss causing great tension in her muscles, it was painful. The worse way to possibly die now, the more she registered pain on herself. She’d move her still enabled arm, just to twist it so her eye could drift over to try and look it over. Shredded just like her lower half, he was the one blood letting here. God did it hurt... not like these were the half of the wounds and pierces. There was worse ones to consider too...

But the wounds... they began to darken and emit a light smoky black, scentless and seemingly harmless miasma. It wasn’t as noticeable though as her tunnel vision didn’t partake in her support and only extent. Slowly though, Josiah would be trying to get up with her gaze lifting ever slightly. She was running cold, tired, panicked. It was mixed across her face now, she was trying to focus on Knox who was still at a comforting distance. The more she’d move though, it felt like she was ensnared in deep thorns. The more she’d struggle. The more it hurt.

Though from his distance, he could see it. It was pleasing, the look of bloodied beauty that was once riddled with rage. Now ready to succumb, yet fighting submission. Stubborn. He was one to savour and watch to see what more she will try and do in her sorry state.

“Why do you hide such a winsome face? Such a lovely lady, but where did that fire go?”

Knox insisted, he did find it amusing and furthermore from someone like her. Perhaps even a bit impressed- Though he didn’t get a response, and more stuck to watching this soon to be corpse move and sway as Josiah gotten back up to her feet to try and take a couple steps. But now he was beginning to see the black miasma manifest lowest to her back more prominently, at first he’d think his eyes to deceive him from his sight sometimes. Worse now from his useless one... but this wasn’t a trick at all. Instead of him speaking, he would continue to watch her now with slight alarm looming on his face. The confident one lost, but he wasn’t too worried about her directly doing anything. It was just strange.

Josiah wasn’t in any condition to be standing, let alone trying to get at him with this loss. She wanted one more pull, one more push before she’d give in. Not that she had a choice anyhow with that... With the frail shake and lift of an empty hand, all dead weight dropped on her as it forced her back to her knees. The world fell before it pulled her backwards after collapsing knees first with a struggling, breathless hitch trying to form with her head falling back to let herself descend finally back down. Her sight going dark as her eye would close from its heavy state, not even noticing the new, but light pain manifest from her back and the buzzing sting from her wounds. Like they were being split open, the miasma having grown more visibly thick at this point and swayed ever gently.

“So u-useless... I apologize...”

Was all she muttered in a tasteless tone, directed at herself if anything in a self-loathing manner. Apologizing for Liam’s sake... She was done... Josiah would be waiting to feel the hard impact finally be enough to knock her out the rest of the way, but was only greeted by a pair of dampened arms that caught her and held her up before collision. Instead of the back of her head meeting hard floor, it met a firm shoulder, her cheek tickled by feathered and dishevelled hair. Josiah had completely given up trying to come to terms, but accepted her position. All she could hear was a throaty, sinister exhale pass by her ear, with a visible effluvia ghosting from a dark maw of exposed teeth. Faintly smelling of iron... All she could feel was the warmth emanating from the embrace... the sensation. What emotion present, Josiah would have hidden tears slowly begin to trickle from her closed eye. It’s all that was able to be made in during the time. Why was she crying...? Not even she was sure... maybe from finally realizing her position. Where she was now, she didn’t succeed.

Black ooze dripped and fell from the new covered appearance, and in contrast with the thick black secretion that once flown from the wounds of the doctor, now emanating off the silhouette. The miasmatic discharge slowly dissipated into the air after a moment, the black ooze remnants on the floor that had fallen from the stranger left itself to stain the marble below like a puddle. Knelt, the stranger would gently caress fingers up the side of the doctors head, smearing the black discharge against her cold cheek as the remainders fell in persistent droplets below, as if leaving no trace of it being on the dark figure to begin with, not even dampening her hair or clothes. Exposing pale digits and attire more as it went on though, but of course some of it dampened the doctors clothing when it soaked into it unlike her own. Her freehand laced over Josiah’s torso to hold her as blood smeared and covered her coat forearm, the black ooze only mixing within it. Alas, her hand coming up to cover over the doctors closed eye and bandage to pull her head back against the crook of her neck to rest it. The silhouette slowly raised her head to return the heavy gaze of Knox, only briefly feeling the doctor writhe in her arms from the pressure she applied.

Fashionably late... Thankfully she pulled through more carefully, unlike usual and tearing herself free, any faster then it would’ve killed Josiah from not being able to endure the process of how painful it actually was in that manner.

‘I am here...’

The two would share a deadly and silent gaze, both Knox and the clearing individual. Ezme has finally shown herself under that black visage. A possible good deed? Who knows...

The situation alone threatened Knox to an extent, he’s never seen such an event before. From the start it manifested itself, to this very point. Speechless, the once confident man could only get ready to commence the fight again with forming hostility. Once the dark ooze cleared itself more and shown off the strangers appearance, it hit him. As clear as day, it was nothing but dumbfound on his face for the moment. This... thing... how? He would slowly begin approaching, drawing forward like a predator. There was no mistaken for a mirroring image, especially that face that cleared of whatever blood consistency like residue was falling from her.

‘To finish what you’ve started.’

Ezme would scoff, the look on her face wasn’t the common tooth baring grin. Instead nothing but incoming anger that exposed a cruel snarl, the prominent illumination of her right eye hummed a haunting yellow from beneath feathered hair that casted a heavy shade over her gaze. Dripping and rolling down her cheek from the afflicted eye like persistent tears, that very black substance she manifested from. Her body free of it all now. Ezme will need to attend this quickly if she wanted to keep Josiah alive. Carefully, she would scoot back to let The doctor lay on the floor, settling her gently on her back before standing to step over in front. Not without picking up Josiahs blade of choice, ezme was going to see it through for her and some entertainment. Especially more considering Knox was already in bad shape, he was a familiar face she’d known too. Even voice, she knew to arrive this time without bearing her mask that was hanging at her hip with a heavy sway. It was easy to mock him without it.

She braced though after a few more steps, twirling the blade within her hand and using nimble fingers to get a feel for it and weight, coagulated blood stringing from it to the floor. She held secure now before bending forward shortly after, giving him an over exaggerated bow and scrape with her extending the blade off to the side, the look on her face replacing with a ridiculing smile and taunting his lower position in his nobility. It was a joke, he’d never deserve such a formal gesture. She could tell it pissed Knox off when his pace sped up just a short distance away, the look on his face prominent with annoyance. No more time for silent jokes. But to hell with that, only she is the one allowed to bring about the doctors destruction. She could’ve taken over to truly possess the weakened mind, but Ezme couldn’t have her opposite dying the rest of the way either during this- not by this fool.

Truly, her only goal was to keep the doctor from perishing, though whom Josiah was trying to protect was her least concern, Liam. Brotherly fights were common amongst siblings... Knox and Liam. Though even she knew the pale prince had no chance against this monstrosity. But now she was here... Why not fight fire with fire then?

The next second after thought, Ezme sent herself lunging forward from her bowed position with a newly formed malicious smile. The momentum she burst from allowed her to leap at him while taking the blade hilt into both hands, and raise it above her head in the process as if going for a plunge attack. And in doing so, triggered Knox to maneuver defensively, and more quickly with his incoming assault. Once more was combat initiated as the gap closed between an aerial strike and grounded collision. Natures blades to man made steel. It would be a cycle all over again.

‘My one favour for you... When you’re upon deaths door. To think I would be the one cleaning up your mess. That your heinous manifestation would be the one to aid your soul in this moment, while you lie on the precipice...’