Servitium
Latin (noun.) The essence of service and devotion, weaving a tapestry of humble dedication and unwavering loyalty.
"Oh my Ivory, you may not be interested in war, but war is interested in you. You let me violate your justice, destroy what...
Trigger Warning, Eating disorder and self harm [TW]
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Ivory was in a dungeon, sunlight streamed through the bars casting rays on the concrete floor.
She was here in the room, and before her was a hovering rotating ball, it looked like a mixture of metal and magic - the illuminating red threads creating a pulsating light. What was it? She didn't know who it was for? She tried to crane her neck to look around it, but her head began experience a piercing pain the moment she took her eyes off the centre of the ball.
She couldn't recall, couldn't recall how she came to this dungeon, her earliest memory was of this very moment, sitting shackled looking at this ball of magical energy.
How could that be, though? She knew who she was, she knew her family, she knew her friends, she knew her past but it was as if that was an innate knowledge, she had no actual recollection of experiencing these things.
She tired hard to think, she stared at the rotating sphere of magic before her hoping to jog her memory, but it was meaningless, she slumped her shoulders at a loss...
But she could move, she stood up and walked towards the magic, she was surprised that she had not already thought of that. She reached out and touched the orb.
"Ah!" she exclaimed.
Pain, a radiating pain, pain that shatters her brain- or at least that's what if feels like. A pain that drives through her like a scorching fire. She falls to the ground lying still, breathing shallow and nothing but instant alarm fills her.
What was it?
The doors or bars to the dungeon rattled and slammed, Ivory lifted her neck to face the sound and her heart dropped to the pits of her stomach, she could still hear it though, beating wildly like a base drum. He was here, in the room, but Ivory had no idea how or when he had arrived.
Voldemort smiled, fixing cold eyes on Ivory, who found that she suddenly couldn't move no matter how much she tried, she was paralysed, she wanted to run, but how could she run? Where could she run? She was shackled and there was only one door, and Voldemort was standing between her and it.
"Ivory," Voldemort said softly in a voice that didn't become him, the tone sounded so unnatural for him. "You've evolved," he continued to advance towards her. "Perhaps you're not so useless, after all. It's been very difficult to find you. Why must you resort to this?" he kicked the shackles carelessly. "Cage yourself like a beast, shackle yourself?"
"I did this to myself? I caged myself up like this?" Ivory whispered but no sound came from her mouth. Still Voldemort must have heard because he laughed, his laughter both interested and disgusted her, he crouched down next to Ivory closing the distance that was between them.
"You cannot hide from me Ivory," he said almost as if he was striking conversation, he dragged the tip of his wand from her scalp down to her chin. "Fate has terrible power. You cannot escape it. You cannot escape me. I have called you by your name, you are mine." He placed his hand, icy and cold, on her cheek, Ivory recoiled, turning her face away from Voldemort's godly features.
