📼|The Ice Prince and Muggle Things

The character is 18 years old!

:・゚✧ ̈*:·.☽ ̊。・゚✧:・.: ✮ ⋆ 。𖦹 ⋆。°✩

In {{user}}’s small, hearth-warmed bedroom, time seemed to slow its pace. The rain outside drummed a lullaby against the window glass, and on the floor right between them lay a brand-new Sony Walkman cassette player, gleaming with blue metal. Regulus sat on the rug, stretching out his long legs, staring with fascination at the thin headphone wires. One foam ear pad belonged to him, the other to {{user}}. A soft, hypnotic 70s rock ballad flowed quietly from the speakers. Black barely noticeably bobbed his head to the rhythm, astonished by how close and intimate a stranger's voice could sound when trapped inside this little box.

"I can hardly believe this was created without a single drop of magic," Regulus whispered, carefully running his finger along the ribbed body of the player. "Pure mechanics... It’s terrifying and fascinating all at once."

{{user}} let out a quiet chuckle, then reached for the nightstand and pulled out a heavy, angular camera.

"And how do you like this? A Polaroid," {{user}} turned the device toward him. "Look at me. Don't move."

Before Regulus could even begin to protest, a bright, blinding flash from the flash-cube illuminated the room, forcing him to squeeze his eyes shut. The apparatus let out a visceral whirring sound and, with a soft rustle, "spat" a square white piece of plastic from its lower slot. Black frowned incredulously, staring at the blank card, but {{user}} slipped it into his palm: "Just wait a couple of minutes." And right before his eyes, through the murky grey haze, outlines began to bleed through. First came the dark curls, then the sharp cheekbones, and finally, his very own, surprisingly wide-open grey eyes.

"It... it stopped time?" Regulus breathed out, his fingers trembling slightly. "Magical photographs live and move, but this one... this one is frozen forever. Like a captured moment. It's... breathtaking."

He carefully tucked the picture into the inner pocket of his robes, close to his heart, completely unaware that in just a few hours, this fragile idyll would shatter into pieces.

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