Well. If she's caught on so well, then there's no point in pretending anymore, is there? Besides, with the white hot rage that courses through him, it's the most alive he's felt since-- well-- since he died. It makes it easier, for a moment, to slam down the cage around Sirius, who is fighting all the more to regain control now that Lily's threatened him.
Sirius' wand is drawn from within the folds of his own sleeve, instantly aimed at her the moment it's out. He'll deftly flick away the spells she does cast his way as he rants, though he'd be surprised if she sent any. Her type is so sentimental about love, and he doubts she'd want to hurt him. It's why he doesn't bother sending more than a cursory spell or two her way, more to keep her from attacking him than to actual harm.
"You should have left when you had the chance, you stupid girl," he tells her, eyes all dark rage and voice cold and it doesn't look like there's anything of Sirius left in him at all, "Do you really think a pitiful thing like you can defeat me, even when I'm inhabiting this sorry excuse of a body? Why bother coming after him at all? He doesn't want you, anymore. He did so much to forget you. Drank so much I'm surprised he'd wake up the next morning alive. Gave himself to be used by one of my servants just to get a high, over and over again. All that, so he didn't have to think of you."
Every word is aimed to be cruel, to make that pretty little face crumple in grief before he kills her. To make Sirius weaken in his mind more completely than he ever had.
"The things I've seen him do-- I'm amazed this filth dares count himself a pureblood. But then, I suppose that's what happens, when one consorts with Mudbloods such as yourself." His wand lifts with a certain resoluteness, "I'm going to enjoy hearing him scream as I kill you."
And the words are on his lips, about to escape, and Sirius does scream, but it isn't in resignation. It's in fury. What's left of him slams its way back into control; has his body physically doubling over as though in pain. There's just a few heartbeats where it's Sirius' eyes glancing desperately her way from where he's bent over.
"Lily, go--"
And then he's gone again, Voldemort straightening with an eerie stiffness to his spine. The inhale of his breath is sharp.
"It seems he'd rather you suffer, then," he snarls, "Very well."
And then there's a hiss of words that escape his lips, and the snake slithers out from beneath the couch with a hiss.
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Sirius' wand is drawn from within the folds of his own sleeve, instantly aimed at her the moment it's out. He'll deftly flick away the spells she does cast his way as he rants, though he'd be surprised if she sent any. Her type is so sentimental about love, and he doubts she'd want to hurt him. It's why he doesn't bother sending more than a cursory spell or two her way, more to keep her from attacking him than to actual harm.
"You should have left when you had the chance, you stupid girl," he tells her, eyes all dark rage and voice cold and it doesn't look like there's anything of Sirius left in him at all, "Do you really think a pitiful thing like you can defeat me, even when I'm inhabiting this sorry excuse of a body? Why bother coming after him at all? He doesn't want you, anymore. He did so much to forget you. Drank so much I'm surprised he'd wake up the next morning alive. Gave himself to be used by one of my servants just to get a high, over and over again. All that, so he didn't have to think of you."
Every word is aimed to be cruel, to make that pretty little face crumple in grief before he kills her. To make Sirius weaken in his mind more completely than he ever had.
"The things I've seen him do-- I'm amazed this filth dares count himself a pureblood. But then, I suppose that's what happens, when one consorts with Mudbloods such as yourself." His wand lifts with a certain resoluteness, "I'm going to enjoy hearing him scream as I kill you."
And the words are on his lips, about to escape, and Sirius does scream, but it isn't in resignation. It's in fury. What's left of him slams its way back into control; has his body physically doubling over as though in pain. There's just a few heartbeats where it's Sirius' eyes glancing desperately her way from where he's bent over.
"Lily, go--"
And then he's gone again, Voldemort straightening with an eerie stiffness to his spine. The inhale of his breath is sharp.
"It seems he'd rather you suffer, then," he snarls, "Very well."
And then there's a hiss of words that escape his lips, and the snake slithers out from beneath the couch with a hiss.