THE GRIM BALLAD OF GAIA, tom riddle

𝗌𝖾𝗂

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Tw: Cringy fluff — I apologize in advance

A warm summer breeze blew through the opened kitchen window, the smell of damp stone fanning into the narrow space, blanketing every corner in the balmy aroma. The descending sun burned like a gilded platter, fragmenting golden shards to varnish the beryl skies in a breathtaking luminescence. It plated every building in amber curtains, the hues shifting through every swimming cloud — gray to gold, gold to gray.

The abating glow glinted on the polished floorboards, painting them a sweet copper to contrast the dark mahogany where the sun did not hit. Chirping birds flew through peach seas, tasting nectarous beams on hymned tongues and soft feathered wings. They caught wandering gazes as they soared, reflecting suns into ebony voids.

Gaia Arbore had pulled one of the lopsided chairs from her dining room in front of the opened window, admiring the sunset once again, for she typically found herself doing so during the summer; the skies always seemed to burn brighter. The window faced an alleyway crowded with vibrant vespas and bicicletti that scaled the walls; they were tilted slightly to the left due to the kickstand, making it seem like they were falling dominos that had fought back against gravities push. Potted plants scattered across the cobblestone in sienna pots and were hung on twisted metal hooks, suspending out of reach for anybody down below.

"Could you make this recipe?" Tom Riddle's obscure voice questioned, drawing Gaia's attention back to where he leaned against the kitchen counter with a tattered recipe book in his hands. He strode towards where Gaia sat, handing her the book which she took gently in her hands. The recipe book had been in her family for decades, and it showed within the frayed binds and decaying pages. Every recipe was written down in elegant calligraphy, though they had begun to melt due to the element of time and wear.

"Spaghetti alla bolognese? I can make this with my eyes glued shut," Gaia boasted, closing the book in her hand before standing up and out of her chair.

'That can be arranged,' Tom thought to himself, his eyes slightly rolling as Gaia made her way towards the stuffed cabinets that threatened to spill out its contents.

With every passing day, Tom Riddle had grown more cross. He found that having to control his evident annoyance was even more difficult than creating a horcrux. He found staying calm was a challenge when he had someone like Gaia Arbore constantly trying to make useless conversation with him, acting as if they were any more than acquaintances.

It was apparent that the girl had grown more comfortable with him, and that was just what he needed to happen if his plan were to be executed correctly. Though, that accomplishment alone didn't halt the reaping of his placidity every time she so much as rolled her eyes out of mirth. The image of green tumbling into the basket of her skull was picturesque, peeling back the curtains to give him a sneak peek of her forthcoming death. For watching jade crumble to fine powder would have pleased him more than cleaning blood off a dagger, but he supposed he would have to make do until then.

"Tom, put on this apron," Gaia interrupted, holding out a frilly, floral apron that was ghastly to behold.

"I am not wearing that." He protested while pushing away Gaia's extended hand. The apron, in Tom's eyes, was horrendous. Even though it was a lovely shamrock green, the white frills near the shoulder and the daisies stitched onto the chest made it look too feminine for his liking.

"Is it because of the flowers?" She sighed, her hands placed on the hip of her apron, which was the same design as Tom's but in a buttercup yellow.