"I will burn down the whole fucking world until you have nowhere to turn but my arms."
Jim Moriarty has always loved fairytales. In particular, grim, macabre ones that end in bloodshed. You've been abused by your step-family for years - in every me...
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"BUT THEN AGAIN, YOU SEEM TO LIKE A LITTLE HELLFIRE, DON'T YOU?"
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Living with Moriarty is not for the faint of heart. He's a strange man - and you often find yourself becoming victim to moments of intrigue. There's something intrinsically dark within him, but you're currently inclined to believe that it was created out of a need for fun, for entertainment, and not out of hardship.
It was a frenzied moment in which you agreed to join him.
Truthfully, you had no idea what being a part of his game entailed. You had only seen bits and pieces on the news.
Moriarty had taken you to what was apparently a grandiose mansion. It was terribly grand - much larger, more airy and ornate than your house had been. Everything within it seems so fine, opulent, even.
It's never cold, which you're thankful for.
Moriarty leads you through a series of hallways, and down some winding, twisting stairway, and to his study. He seems fond of the finer things in life, decking out the mansion with what you assume are expensive pieces. You see a few men milling around, all dressed in suits. You think about calling out for them, getting their attention, but you quickly realise that these are men who follow Moriarty's orders.
He's got all of these people, these dark-looking, brawny bodyguards who do his bidding. They're just more puppets, and he's the one tugging on their strings. You have to wonder if they have a role in the plan, too. If they are pieces in the game - and if you're to become like them.
The worst part is probably that you don't know how - you have no idea how he's controlling them. Or why, for that matter. Really, you have so, so many questions, all revolving around Moriarty. Who he is, what he wants, why he wants it and how he plans to achieve it are all absolute mysteries.
His study is airy, with this large desk and leather chair behind it. There's bookshelves - none of them hold any books, though. Rather, they contain what, at first glance, you think are odd knick-knacks. There's all manner of things - shoes, a lipstick case, purses, wallets. They look rather out of place, considering the fancy, high-end decor of the rest of the house.
They're just random, every-day objects, but they're displayed in pride of place in his study.
Moriarty seems to catch your confused look at them, and he grins proudly. "Trophies." He says, by way of explanation.
"Oh?" You swallow, suddenly unable to tear your eyes from them.
You don't really need to be told the rest - they're trophies from people. Presumably, victims of his.
"Oh, come on." He scoffs, playfully. He stalks closer to you, closing the door to the study behind him. You still feel rather on edge, but some of that feralty and desperation has subsided.
