A face like a fallen angel in the eyes of God
With Godly eyes
He watches, waiting
Νικόδημος reigns
A victor over the people
Νικόδημος reigns

It's a grey winter day, you sit at your table in the coffee shop, staring aimlessly at the steamy windows. You're drinking coffee and look down at the dark matter in your little cup and give it a swirl. He is late, but you are not surprised. Although you have not met him beyond a gaze in a hall, you know he's not the sort to apologise.

You watch vaguely as a woman walks in, undoing her scarf and drying her shoes on the mat, taking a seat with a smiling companion who waves at her from across the room. The atmosphere is nice, classy, subtle, sophisticated without trying to hard. A while seems to pass, as you sit staring at your coffee, before the bell sounds again and you glance up.

He is wearing a dark grey blazer - vintage, boxy, effortless. Underneath you see the fine stripes of a t shirt, a silver pendant of some kind shining on his chest.

His smooth brown hair falls in soft curls, intentionally messy. As he turns his head to greet the waitress, you see his side profile for the first time. His features are sharp, but give an impression of delicateness. A boy Eros, so dangerously enrapturing. You know that Eros is the mask, and Hypnos is his name.

He smiles lazily when he sees you, and approaches your table. His gaze settles on yours. He does not need to speak. You find yourself already hypnotised.

Eyes so blue
I drown

Desire runs leagues deep. A blue so dark it penetrates your soul. You see the hero, the lover, the mother and the villain. You know he is all of these, and more.

He orders a coffee, black. You compliment him on his shoes. He smiles, and thanks you. They are those cream converse with the little heart with eyes stitched onto the the side. Comme de garçons. Classy, effortless, expensive.

It is a little strange seeing him in his own clothes. You didn't know him at school, only saw him in class in his Ravenclaw robes. You remember distinctly how good he looked in blue, how everyone desired the unattainable.

"It's good to see you." He says with a smile. You nod, agreeing. You doubt he really thinks this, but you agree anyway. He watches as you bring out a notepad and paper. You nearly drop your pen because your thumb feels numb, but you recover fast enough not to make a fool of yourself. The click of the nib sounds like a gunshot, poised, ready.

"So," he begins, leaning in. "What is it you want to know?"

Thank you for reading. Do you want to talk to Nicodemus? Send in some questions and I will write the reply. Don't be shy; the more I get, the better! All questions are valid - this is a way for you to discover him