[His lips part into a slightly open smile and a soft chuckle escapes before Tom shakes his head slightly, his eyes alight with something. It isn't fear, nor is it anger -- it's confidence.
Tom Riddle, the sixteen year old wizard, is perfectly and utterly confident in his ability to destroy an angel of the Lord. There is no hesitation, no second-guessing, no doubt. He isn't some ridiculously simple student, he is Voldemort, the slayer of death itself, and the fact that this half-of-an-angel thing is speaking down to him, of all people, is funny.]
Castiel.
[It's soft, and Tom's voice is almost sympathetic.]
You are intelligent enough to see that I am far from a normal human being. I would have never bother contacted you in the first place if I didn't have a means of survival. So, please -- cut the theatrics, the bravado, and the posturing, because I have quite a lot to do, and I've just lost my best assistant.
[And his tone slips from light and airy to ice cold in a heartbeat.]
The facts are these -- I have, in my possession, an extraordinarily powerful weapon that very many people want. I'm inclined to give it to you, and you alone, but only if you assist me in receiving what is mine. The terms are simple, fair, and more than just, considering the individual I wish to fight against is the very same individual that ripped out the closest thing you will ever have to a soul.
Should you assist me, you will have an invaluable ally at your disposal. Should you choose to have your siblings act against me, then you will have an enemy, along with a fine sense of disappointment that I underestimated your level of cowardice in calling your big brothers and sisters to do your own work for you. Allow yourself the dignity of handling your own problems instead of running to fetch the Devil to solve them for you. But that isn't my problem -- and as I said, I have things to do.
[Tom stands, abruptly, the PCD levitating with him.]
The decision is yours. I have already notified Raphael of her idiocy. I expect Lucifer will be next. Do as you please. You have my contact information.
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timeasmymeasure
[Video--Same Filter]
Date: 2011-12-08 02:28 am (UTC)Tom Riddle, the sixteen year old wizard, is perfectly and utterly confident in his ability to destroy an angel of the Lord. There is no hesitation, no second-guessing, no doubt. He isn't some ridiculously simple student, he is Voldemort, the slayer of death itself, and the fact that this half-of-an-angel thing is speaking down to him, of all people, is funny.]
Castiel.
[It's soft, and Tom's voice is almost sympathetic.]
You are intelligent enough to see that I am far from a normal human being. I would have never bother contacted you in the first place if I didn't have a means of survival. So, please -- cut the theatrics, the bravado, and the posturing, because I have quite a lot to do, and I've just lost my best assistant.
[And his tone slips from light and airy to ice cold in a heartbeat.]
The facts are these -- I have, in my possession, an extraordinarily powerful weapon that very many people want. I'm inclined to give it to you, and you alone, but only if you assist me in receiving what is mine. The terms are simple, fair, and more than just, considering the individual I wish to fight against is the very same individual that ripped out the closest thing you will ever have to a soul.
Should you assist me, you will have an invaluable ally at your disposal. Should you choose to have your siblings act against me, then you will have an enemy, along with a fine sense of disappointment that I underestimated your level of cowardice in calling your big brothers and sisters to do your own work for you. Allow yourself the dignity of handling your own problems instead of running to fetch the Devil to solve them for you. But that isn't my problem -- and as I said, I have things to do.
[Tom stands, abruptly, the PCD levitating with him.]
The decision is yours. I have already notified Raphael of her idiocy. I expect Lucifer will be next. Do as you please. You have my contact information.
[And the feed is cut with a wave of his hand.]