Novel & Cerita Death Eater Mask Snape

He sat perfectly still, but every line of his body screamed power. ​He wore a polished silver mask that covered the left half of his face, where the worst injuries were rumored to be. The mask was cracked in one place, giving it a brutal, shattered look. His visible features were sharp: a strong jawline, and one eye deep, icy black that was currently fixed on the patterns in the carpet. He looked like a fallen king, ruined but still terrifying. ​"Anya," my father mumbled, shoving me forward. "Meet Alpha Ronan."

Debby explained in detail. "What sort of mask did he had on?" Harry asked, hoping he could ask Horace to find the person's identity through the type of mask used. "It was a black mask and it had horns drawn on it. My vision was really blurry to be able to describe how it looked precisely." Harry thought through and realized he had no enemy in Darkwood that would dare come against him. Thus the phenomenon was quite a mysterious one. "Fred was also injected by the same person." Harry said. Debby looked up at Harry and fear crept into her skin as she thought about the wellbeing her son.

He’s wearing a black cloak and a mask that covers half of his face, only his chiseled, clean shaven jaw visible through the shadows dancing over his profile. The buttons on his all black suit glint in the dim light coming from torches along the walls around us. I take him in, my gaze doing a thorough sweep of his outfit, and spot a serpent cast in silver, or white gold, hopefully the latter, eating its own tail. He wears it as a cufflink. He tucks his arm behind his back when he notices me looking at it. “You shouldn’t be here,” he repeats, his voice deep and full of smoke.

He glared at the man who was wearing a black mask covering his whole head. “Move, or I’ll blow her head off,” he snarled, pushing the tip of the gun on Faye’s head as her eyes squeezed tight shut, her body trembling as she walked inside the room slowly. “Who are you?” Lucas hissed in clenched teeth. He felt Selene’s grip on his shirt behind his back. The man removed his mask and threw it on the floor. Lucas’ eyes widened when he finally recognized him. “Missed me?” the man said. His face has a scar starting from his forehead sliced through his cheek. Lucas saw the familiar snake tattoo on his neck, the tattoo he once commented on that was ridiculous. “You made me miss you, you fraud!”

“Did you get a closer look at his mask?” “He wore a blank, unreadable mask of ornate gold leather over the small eyes in a fire design with a small hook nose on it.” He didn’t think it would be possible, but he was pushed to ask, “Did you notice some kind of C-shaped mark carved on his mask, a little close to his left eye?” Mrs Lena blinked in surprise, raising her head to look at him, her eyes widening. “Yes. There was a letter ‘C’ mark on his mask.”

It was all black and well fitted, they had a full head covered face mask that concealed their blonde hair and that had only a human skull drawn in front of it. "We look like low budget super heroes", Andrew teased. "Yeah, It was all Mark's Idea", Lucas said laughing. Mark's face was covered by his full head mask, but he laughed through it, even though neither Lucas or Andrew could see his facial expression. "I like it, it has a skull in front representing death to vampires. It's midnight, it's time", He said, as he removed his mask. He couldn't go out of their apartment wearing it. Lucas and Andrew both removed their mask as they placed it in a small backpack and headed out of the apartmen

She believed in her strength, just not enough to take Death on in single combat. The two allies she had were considerably strong in their own rights. Odoroku was a shadowy man with long arms and claws. He was wearing black wrappings all over his body that almost matched his skin. He looked similar to Death, except his face was more pronounced through his dark smoke, with two white eyes peering through. He also had horns sticking out of his head.

That is the exact moment my eyes encounter young Zevran Nightfell. The little boy, wearing a tight black fabric face mask over his nose, stands right in front of the kiddie-sized toilet bowl, his small fingers fumbling around with his trousers. Our eyes meet instantly in the mirror—a grown, massive alpha monster covered in white cake, and a tiny, mischievous boy. My dark brow furrows super deep. Had it not been for the boy’s incredibly lively, defiant eyes burning through the mask, my mind might have mistaken his small frame for my own sick son, Malek Thorncrest.

Children blinked, women pressed their hands over their mouths, and a warrior spat into the dirt as if to wash my words from the ground. Draven’s smile cracked, like ice under a boot. For a terrible second his eyes were only animal—bright, furious, suddenly small as a trapped thing. Then the mask snapped back into place; his features tightened until they were hard as flint. “What insolence.” He took a step forward; his presence rolled over me like a black wave. “You take my name and—do you dare speak death of me? You dare call me a disease?”"

“Yes, Sir.” One of the masked men stepped forward. He wore a raven mask, sleek and black, with a dark tailored suit that clung to his tall, muscular frame. The second was leaner, a serpent mask glinting silver over ice-blue eyes. Both watched her like predators circling prey. “She’s beautiful,” the serpent murmured, voice low and smooth. “You weren’t exaggerating.” “She’s ready,” her Master replied. “Trained. Obedient. Eager.”