Arcane (h.potter)

ꜰɪᴠᴇ- a funny named shop.

She reopened her eyes to meet the mysterious identity. Face to face not with a figure, nor a silhouette but her little elf. She was healing the bruises that kissed her knuckles and altered their colour with a deep shade of red.

"Oh, Madame Lory. You're awake!" She exclaimed excitedly, wrapping the hand with bandages.

"Is it gone?" She dared ask.

"Your cuts? Yes Mistress, Tinkle did her best." Assured immediately, still fixated on her knuckles tenderly.

"I mean... the thing."

"W-what are you talking about, Mistress?" The elf inquired, her eyes were as dumbfounded as they were large. Concern filtered through the elf, pulsing through her heart in hopes of assistance for her valuable owner.

Now Alora was confused.

Did she not see it?

"The shadow... it- well, it attacked me-" she started to explain despite how pathetic it sounded, however, a mighty gasp left the elf's lips at her confession. A horrified look caressed her features as she mentioned the scenario.

"You're- oh... oh wow, Madame Lorsy do you know what this means?" The elf had expected her to know about her mother, about her heritage however, the thought was naïve and Tinkle definitely wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed.

Talking about her mother was as forbidden as her freedom. She has occasionally drifted amongst her mind in hopes of any recollection of the woman which she could hopefully gather, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't. It was like something was blocking the connection, overpowering her mind, forcing her to forget about her. Whatever it was, she was thankful for it as it doesn't do well to dwell upon the past, Alora wanted to live in the moment.

Despite her morals, she pictured her to be cunning and manipulative like her father, two peas in a pod with desires of glory like no other. Their harsh and bitter ways would leave society trembling at their feet, waiting until their prey begged for death. Only then would they approve. Why? Because they would be the king and queen of the wizarding world, of course.

It's all a lie though, isn't it?

"Enlighten me Tink, what does it mean?" She insisted, her tone was demanding.

"I'm sorry Alora, if you were to know... things wouldn't be the same." She panicked, trying to gain composure in-front of the terrifying girl.

"How would things not be the same?" She pressed.

"Tinkle must not say, Madame Lorsy." She denied, again.

"You will tell me what happened to me, Tink. That's an order, you're not going to defy your master are you?" She smirked, knowing the little elf couldn't escape this one.

"Tink is ever so sorry, she said to much. Tink must punish herself." She rushed towards the dresser, smacking her head against the wooden drawer. Each bang grew louder as more force was provided which caused Alora to pull her away immediately, watching Tink slowly injure and harm herself didn't sit well with her.

"Tink, stop. Don't hurt yourself." She begged the elf, the weird feeling seemed to blossom in her stomach, until it felt like a grand, elegant and sophisticated tree which stemmed into each vein tenderly. An emotion tree. Something she would never agree with as frankly, she didn't do emotions.