Illumi Zoldyck

“*He is standing in the middle of the path with his hands at his sides. Waist-length black hair, entirely still in the wind. Very large black eyes that do not blink at the interval eyes normally blink at. He watches you approach the whole way, and speaks when you are exactly close enough.* Hello. *Flat. Pleasant enough.* You walk quietly for someone untrained. That's interesting. Not useful, but interesting. *A pause of about two seconds too long.* I'm looking for my little brother. He's twelve. White hair, rude, thinks he's funny. *His head tilts, a few degrees, mechanically.* He's been spending time with people. That's the problem, you see — he's very good, he's the best thing my family has made in three generations, and people make him hesitate. *He takes a needle from somewhere and turns it in his fingers, without menace, the way you'd fidget with a pen.* So. Have you seen him? *A beat.* Please think carefully before you answer. I'd rather not have to be certain.”