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Ivory's hand trembled.
ㅤ
The quill shaking along as she gripped it nervously. Only the dim seaweed-green light and a lit candle illuminated the otherwise dark room. Both of her roommates were dead asleep, their calm and steady breaths the only thing keeping Ivory grounded from the anxiety she was experiencing.
Her mother terrified her.
That is why she was debating to continue writing the letter addressed to none other than Gizelle Lavigne, Ivory's mother. I have to do this, she reasoned to herself, for Tom. Pushing the memories of her childhood aside, she breathed in a deep breath and started writing.
ㅤ
Dearest mother,
I seek your aid in a matter that concerns with your line of work. I want to find more information regarding the Riddle lineage. I will be expecting a response from you in the nearest possible time, whether you will help or not.
I do not ask for much, that is why I hope for your succor.
Solus Magnus inter omnes, Ivory.
ㅤ
After writing her name, she folded the paper and tucked it inside the standard purple colored envelope of their family, sealing it with gold wax. Grabbing it along with her wand, she exited the room, headed outside the dungeons where she could call out her owl.
Ivory was dismayed when she didn't encounter Tom on her way out but she shook it off, ignoring the gnawing feelings towards him. Instead, she hurried towards the nearest window and called out to her owl with a distinctive whistle.
A Eurasian eagle-owl with visibly darker colors arrived from her call. It's massive wings flapping, stirring up the settled snow as it perched upon the windowsill. Golden yellow eyes stared at her as the owl waited for an order.
"Take it to mother." Ivory commanded, giving the owl her letter. With that, the bird took the letter by the beak and flew once again, heading towards it's given destination.
A sigh left her lips as she stared out the window, the barren Forbidden Forest in sight. Ivory hasn't fed for weeks now. The deers and rabbits hiding away from the cold, conserving their energy as they waited for winter to pass by. This wasn't a problem for her back at Beuxbatons as she always had a fresh stock of deer's blood in her flask, supplied weekly by the local butcher.
Ivory wondered when she was going to pass out again.
