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[morsmordre_met]

[ Even the camera's night setting has trouble rendering the image, but a careful eye might spot a one Tom Riddle making his way slowly down a dark corridor. The only pale light comes from somewhere around his hand - a neon stick, maybe, or a lit wand. His face is drawn - such a happy birthday indeed - but he's otherwise inspecting the walls of his

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[schisming]

Elliot was not even in the library, so catching the tail end of that is disconcerting, if he may understate, but then sudden phantom doors leading to inexplicable mazes are probably a more fitting introduction to the world of curses than the cluestick he dodged. Of course, he also misses out on stabbing projections, so maybe he should count his blessings. He has no real way of knowing if he's anywhere near Tom, since 'featureless geologically impossible rocks' don't really provide much in the way of description to pass on; he's been trying to keep turns on his left, but that's about all he's got.

All of which is exacerbated by the fact that he's doing it in the dark, a state in which he can see as well as anywhere else thanks to the character sketched on his forehead under his hair, so when he does take a turn and nearly crash directly into his ...would-be rescuer, at least he manages to murmur something as unintelligible as it is profane before he throws up a hand, casting the faint greenish glow of arclight around his general

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[morsmordre_met]

Tom's eyes are good, but never excellent, and in the absence of proper light he thought, well, of course this young man should be nothing but a ghost. He'll pass through Tom, make good work of frightening a speckle of dust here and there, and that'll be that. The near clash - which finds him with a belated reaction, a few steps back and no parting thoughts to dismiss his Lumos - wasn't in the cards.

He takes a moment to digest the view in - weapons, are there any weapons, is the Muggle armed? "No, I should think - good evening. Day. I should think not. Nothing now, but we'll make do without."

Calm. Patient. Amiable. He offers a quick laugh, "I'm sorry. I'll thank you to not do that again - at the least, not so suddenly."

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[schisming]

Elliot is not carrying anything sizable enough to hit a person with - unless you count his limbs - although the hand that stayed at his side is loosely cupped around something small enough to stay hidden. "Mea culpa. Going without light does suffer a great loss of convenience in the event of foot traffic."

A problem solved for now, at least, although Elliot's light has no visible source and is therefore not much to see by; arclight works best when it's on something like a wand, or a car antennae, and otherwise the properties are actually similar to Lumos. Hideous labyrinths of darkness, however, are enough to forestall his curiosity other than glancing at what ...does look a whole lot like a wand there, sir, and filing it away for later. "Have you come across anyone else?"