.☘︎ ݁˖ I have no idea what to call this fic. ☘︎ ݁˖
As the title says I have no idea what to call this fic.. and the way I want to format it is a bit from the present time then going a few months back explaining how MC got there.. So this is somewhat the first chapter of my idea, any feedback would be lovely.. and any ideas on what to call it would be very welcomed.
Its a bit gruesome, I don't know what warnings to put up but, just know it isn't pretty if someone being trapped in a prison isn't your thing this isn't for you.
Its about 700 words or so definitely needs more flushing out.. it is also the first fic I'm writing.. also if you want me to make a tag list, just tell me xx But its under the cut.
⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹
June 1892
The cell was cold, colder than cold, the only light came from a slit in the door where guards would crudely throw food in every other day if she was lucky, and even then, the light only appeared to die on the stone floor. Dravenne found herself chained to the floor, Goblin silver around her left ankle never letting her get a step outside the door, burning into her skin, she was numb to it by now.
She just found herself. Hopeless…
The walls were covered in tally marks all made by her, all showing how many days she had been in here… 4 months left and she would have been rotting in this prison for a year. A whole entire year, her 17th birthday had come and gone. She didn't know the exact date, just a rough estimate, even then why should she trust herself.. She's the reason everything is the way it is.. All because she wasn't strong enough… Fig was dead because of her, The Ministry had crumbled and was overrun with dark wizards because of her, countless had lost their lives, their magic because of her.
The cell was damp, the odour of old blood, rotting food and a few dead rats was overwhelming, but like most things Dravenne was numb to it. Her hair unruly, body unwashed and malnourished.. This cell was no Azkaban, it was Goblin made.. Made to keep things in, to never let them out.. A place for them to rot.. Even if she took a step out of the room she'd instantly be pulled back in.. It was made by the same metal that the repositories were formed from.. Ranrok had learned a thing or two from Bragbor and Isadora.. How to keep ancient magic contained and Dravenne was full to the brim with it.
Dravenne had lost hope.. Stopped eating, stopped keeping track just phased in and out, She was sure her mind was broken.. She had started seeing things, hearing things.. Whisps of her friends' faces through the slit in the door, sometimes she heard Professor Fig’s reassuring words, that used to be her motivation to keep fighting, but now it only infuriated her. She'd slam her head into the wall to get them to stop, but it never worked…
Ranrok visited her often to taunt and torture her “I’ll make sure that once I find your friends ill put their heads on pikes to show people what happens if they sympathise with you…” He’d taunt… She knew he wasn't bluffing… the goblin had killed his own brother…
Today was one of those days, Ranrok had just left wherever Dravenne was being held, She was left on the frigid, hard floor… tears steaming down her face.. She was so close to completely giving up.. She wanted to a long time ago but for some reason a part of her held onto that hope that someone would save her.. And she hated that part of herself the most.
A loud metal clang wrang on the door. “Food’s Here…” A guard.. It seemed Ranrok wanted her alive.. To keep taunting her… to keep for his entertainment.
“I'm not hungry..” Dravenne responded hoarsely.. She was, but didn't have energy to eat at all.. The guard shoved the piece of bread through the slit anyway.. It was stale and hit the floor with a thud.. Dravenne picked it up anyway.. It wasn't far from her reach anyway.. She ripped off the hard crust and lamely tossed it to the corner to be scavenged by the few remaining living rats.
She tore bits off the soft middle of the bread.. The bread was always made crudely so it wasn't uncommon to find things in it.. But this thing was new.. A bit of parchment, almost seemed as if it was purposely placed. Folded neatly.. Dravenne sat up quicker than she should have going light headed but she fought through it.
She shuffled over to the small light through the slit and opened it.. It read ‘Tonight, Don't lose hope yet.’
Here's a photo of Dravenne with a cat to make up for the torture i put her through
