Post by Lilith Malvolia on Feb 4, 2018 14:38:12 GMT -5
Lilith Dominica Malvolia
by JadE
26
age
femalE
gender
02/29/1992
birthday
blood status
Purebloodsexual orientation
Undetermined--If asked, she would say heterosexual, she supposes, because she believes that is the correct answer...She has not really thought much about it. Despite her age, she is a virgin and doesn't believe that anyone would ever be interested in her as a wife because she is a squib. She would be so surprised to be shown affection by anyone at all that she would gladly give any pleasure she could in return, though she would have no idea how to do that.
epidemic x status
Squib by birth
occupation
Employee of Borgin & Burkes
Server at the Bitter Snake
Server at the Bitter Snake
general appearance
Lilith is of average height, with modest curves. Her hair, she would describe as a bland brown, but truly the long locks have a myriads of shades and sheen that catch the sunlight. She dresses simply, but always in wizarding attire.
skills
None really to speak of... Lilith sees herself as having no skills, but only deficiencies. She is physically coordinated, though--and reasonably graceful. She has an air of deference to those who have magic. She is very capable of persevering. The woman is incredibly humble. She has no ego whatsoever.
weaknesses
No magical capabilities. She has battled with depression and self-hatred for her entire life due to her status as a squib. She is deeply ashamed and truly believes she has less worth than those with magic. There is nothing if asked by a pureblood that she would not do. She has had it ingrained in her mind that she should dedicate her life in service to those more deserving of drawing breath.
She is unable to read and write.
She is unable to read and write.
positive traits
+Amiable
+Benevolent
+Clean
+Dutiful
+Humble
+Nonauthoritarian
+Benevolent
+Clean
+Dutiful
+Humble
+Nonauthoritarian
negative traits
-Invisible
-Apathetic
-Naive
-Shortsighted
-No self esteem
-Obsequious
-Nonauthoritarian
-Weak willed
-Self-deprecating
-Dependent
-Insecure
-Afraid
-Easily discouraged, demeaned, and devalued
-Illiterate
-Apathetic
-Naive
-Shortsighted
-No self esteem
-Obsequious
-Nonauthoritarian
-Weak willed
-Self-deprecating
-Dependent
-Insecure
-Afraid
-Easily discouraged, demeaned, and devalued
-Illiterate
hobbies/interests
Cleaning, knitting, crocheting, embroidery
accomplishments
She has no accomplishments--only failures and deficiencies.
character history
Lilith is a woman who has never known love. She has known very little kindness in her life. From the moment of her birth, the sole person responsible for her care and upbringing hated her--and blamed her for taking away his wife and love. Her brothers followed the precedent set by their father and treated her terribly. This mistreatment only grew in severity when it became clear that the girl lacked magical capacity.
Though the girl has little recollection of the time before she turned ten, those years were spent moving from relative to relative as her father came and went from jail and then back with him in the spans of time between. His sentences were short though--a year or two here and there. He was getting better at avoiding prosecution, eventually striking a deal to be an informer for the Ministry to keep himself out of Azkaban. A deal that lasted nearly a decade until the Ministry rescinded the offer and remanded him to life in a stone cell.
For the years when her father was out of prison, which would have roughly corresponded to the years the girl should have attended Hogwarts, Lilith was hidden from the world. They lived in Knockturn Alley, in a flat that occupied the space above a pawn shop there. It was narrow, rickety hovel of a place, but seizures by the Ministry and squandering by Rafe had left them with little. Lilith was treated much like a servant. She had no friends. She was not permitted to speak unless spoken to--and often even then if she spoke, she was beaten or had a wand raised against her. The girl learned to make do as best she could without magic--cleaning and mending for her father and brothers. The flat was a magical home, so there was no way for her to cook without magic.
Hers was a life of solitude and seclusion. She knew nothing of the outside world--and to this day has never visited the muggle side of London. The girl has no way to exit and then re-enter Diagon Alley as she has no magic. She rarely even braves leaving Knockturn. The brightness of the rest of the world is so foreign to her that it is frightening. A great deal frightens her--being alone--being so weak. It all reinforces for her her inadequacy.
Once her father was sent off to Azkaban, it did not take long for her brothers to join him. Abaddon, Seth, and Ubel all served time, but seemed to do so on some sort of rotating schedule where at least one of the males was free from incarceration. Their freedom meant that she wasn't totally alone. But in the spring of 2016, Abaddon got himself killed--drawing his wand when drunk on a far more skilled wizard. Seth and Ubel were in prison for the foreseeable future. Lilith truly was unsure of how long either were to be gone for. No one ever told her anything. The men just came and went without regard for her at all. She is unable to read or write--and had no way to notify her father and brothers of Abaddon's death.
The woman soon ran out of food and began to scrounge things from the garbage of the diner in the alley. That helped her stay alive, but then the first of the month rolled around. The land lord came for the rent and Lilith had no money to pay. To cover that month's cost, she began to pawn things--believing that should she be evicted from the flat, she would lose all the property that her brothers had left behind certainly...and hoping that they would understanding. But she feared their wrath all the same--and did not want to continue to sell their things.
Circumstance provided her another means to earn the rent when she was caught digging through the diner garbage for scraps. (She might have been willing to sell familial property to pay rent--but she was not going to risk spending even the slightest amount on herself.) The owner of the Bitter Snake had been less than kind until he asked for her name--and when she gave the surname Malvolia, the man changed his attitude towards her instantly. He gave her a job and promised to keep her fed until one of the other Malvolia men returned--citing it was a man's duty. Perhaps he had served the Dark Lord along side her male family members--she truly doesn't know.
It took her weeks to admit to the man that she was a squib, forced to do so when she dropped a plate in his presence and was unable to repair it with magic--though the man let her keep her job for awhile, he began to give her fewer and fewer shifts, until eventually the woman was completely let go. Her lacking of magical capacity is a closely guarded, though--or as closely guarded as she can manage.
The new administration saw to the release of her brothers and father from Azkaban. But they have not brought her into their new homes and lives as free men. Instead, the squib still lives in her tiny, horrible flat in Knockturn, but the place it is not nearly as cold and unbearable now that the Dementors are gone. She believes herself even more worthless now that she has been actively abandoned by her father and brothers. The cleaning and cooking she once performed for them is now done by mudbloods. Her father told her he sees her as even less than the mublood scum. Lilith has to agree, because at least a mudblood can perform simple magic.
Though the girl has little recollection of the time before she turned ten, those years were spent moving from relative to relative as her father came and went from jail and then back with him in the spans of time between. His sentences were short though--a year or two here and there. He was getting better at avoiding prosecution, eventually striking a deal to be an informer for the Ministry to keep himself out of Azkaban. A deal that lasted nearly a decade until the Ministry rescinded the offer and remanded him to life in a stone cell.
For the years when her father was out of prison, which would have roughly corresponded to the years the girl should have attended Hogwarts, Lilith was hidden from the world. They lived in Knockturn Alley, in a flat that occupied the space above a pawn shop there. It was narrow, rickety hovel of a place, but seizures by the Ministry and squandering by Rafe had left them with little. Lilith was treated much like a servant. She had no friends. She was not permitted to speak unless spoken to--and often even then if she spoke, she was beaten or had a wand raised against her. The girl learned to make do as best she could without magic--cleaning and mending for her father and brothers. The flat was a magical home, so there was no way for her to cook without magic.
Hers was a life of solitude and seclusion. She knew nothing of the outside world--and to this day has never visited the muggle side of London. The girl has no way to exit and then re-enter Diagon Alley as she has no magic. She rarely even braves leaving Knockturn. The brightness of the rest of the world is so foreign to her that it is frightening. A great deal frightens her--being alone--being so weak. It all reinforces for her her inadequacy.
Once her father was sent off to Azkaban, it did not take long for her brothers to join him. Abaddon, Seth, and Ubel all served time, but seemed to do so on some sort of rotating schedule where at least one of the males was free from incarceration. Their freedom meant that she wasn't totally alone. But in the spring of 2016, Abaddon got himself killed--drawing his wand when drunk on a far more skilled wizard. Seth and Ubel were in prison for the foreseeable future. Lilith truly was unsure of how long either were to be gone for. No one ever told her anything. The men just came and went without regard for her at all. She is unable to read or write--and had no way to notify her father and brothers of Abaddon's death.
The woman soon ran out of food and began to scrounge things from the garbage of the diner in the alley. That helped her stay alive, but then the first of the month rolled around. The land lord came for the rent and Lilith had no money to pay. To cover that month's cost, she began to pawn things--believing that should she be evicted from the flat, she would lose all the property that her brothers had left behind certainly...and hoping that they would understanding. But she feared their wrath all the same--and did not want to continue to sell their things.
Circumstance provided her another means to earn the rent when she was caught digging through the diner garbage for scraps. (She might have been willing to sell familial property to pay rent--but she was not going to risk spending even the slightest amount on herself.) The owner of the Bitter Snake had been less than kind until he asked for her name--and when she gave the surname Malvolia, the man changed his attitude towards her instantly. He gave her a job and promised to keep her fed until one of the other Malvolia men returned--citing it was a man's duty. Perhaps he had served the Dark Lord along side her male family members--she truly doesn't know.
It took her weeks to admit to the man that she was a squib, forced to do so when she dropped a plate in his presence and was unable to repair it with magic--though the man let her keep her job for awhile, he began to give her fewer and fewer shifts, until eventually the woman was completely let go. Her lacking of magical capacity is a closely guarded, though--or as closely guarded as she can manage.
The new administration saw to the release of her brothers and father from Azkaban. But they have not brought her into their new homes and lives as free men. Instead, the squib still lives in her tiny, horrible flat in Knockturn, but the place it is not nearly as cold and unbearable now that the Dementors are gone. She believes herself even more worthless now that she has been actively abandoned by her father and brothers. The cleaning and cooking she once performed for them is now done by mudbloods. Her father told her he sees her as even less than the mublood scum. Lilith has to agree, because at least a mudblood can perform simple magic.
parents
Rafe Malvolia (68, Death Eater, former prisoner in Azkaban, Black Market trader, smuggler)
Constance Malvolia (died giving birth to Lilith)
Constance Malvolia (died giving birth to Lilith)
siblings
Abaddon (would be 32, but was killed in a duel)
Seth (29, former prisoner in Azkaban, newly marked Death Eater, Azkaban guard)
Ubel (27, former prisoner in Azkaban, newly marked Death Eater, Azkaban guard)
Seth (29, former prisoner in Azkaban, newly marked Death Eater, Azkaban guard)
Ubel (27, former prisoner in Azkaban, newly marked Death Eater, Azkaban guard)
children
None.
partner
None.
other family
None.
family history
The Malvolia line is a long-standing bloodline of Italy. Records documenting the pureness of the family date back hundreds of years. Rome is and has always been the seat of power for this family. The majority of the family remains in the city to this day, though few have spread over the world. Power plays in society and in the family are long established as commonplace for this vicious group of purists. Politics and even religion have served them well. In modern times, to be of Rome is to be of the Vatican--and the Malvolia's have had long had influence over the Catholic church. They have placed several of their bastard children upon the the papal throne to act as puppets for purist interests globally. Though few of the family have ever held any belief in Christianity, there have been no shortage among the clan to see the usefulness of religion in controlling and misleading the non-magical animals of the world. Prejudice runs high in this family--and has for decades upon decades.
Members of the family aligned first with Grindelwald and then with Voldemort and now with the Death Eaters to rise up and assert dominance of the purebloods over all others. Children are indoctrinated from birth with prejudices in regards to blood purity and magical superiority. Blood traitors, bastards, and squibs are not acknowledged on the family tree. There have been a sharp rise in the number of squib births in the modern generations. This is not discussed--and the family takes significant measures to hide this fact. There has been an abundance of cousins marrying cousins throughout the history of the family, but in the current generation a concentrated effort is being made to bring new pure lines into the tree. As such, even sons of the main line, which currently reside in London, are considering matches with second, third, and fourth daughters born to second, third and fourth sons. Sons of the subsequent branches are seeking marriage with any pure line, even the poorest of families--but this is all being done with the utmost discretion.
Born to Renard Malvolia and Sylvia Gamp, Rafe grew up alongside his younger brother, Rom, in a decently sized house, in a small Wizarding pocket of Surrey. His childhood was not the easiest one with his father in and out of prison--a precedent he would follow himself and set the same for his own sons.
Childhood may have required him to grow up quickly, but he managed to always stay a few steps ahead. The man was clever and learned quickly. His first stint in prison (and two others) were on account of sharing in with his father's illicit dealings. In the process of attempting to defend himself, he learned a certain craft for the legal language--and managed to pursue that knack while landing himself in all manner of other trouble. The more trouble he found, the better he seemed to get at finding ways out of it...at least until the Ministry began to take such a hard line against those who had supported the purist agenda.
After a three year stint, his longest by over two years--to that point, he decided he would settle down. He saw a face in Knockturn--young and pretty--and decided she was to be his wife on sight. He cleaned up his act sufficiently to earn him the blessing of her father. The girl took to his charm--and her family agreed to the union with the younger witch. By the end of the year, Rafe had married Constance. Barely a month into their marriage, she was with child.
It happen rather rapidly and he was well pleased. He did not need to kill, torture, and otherwise menace the impure to serve the purist interests. He could make children and fill the world with good blood. Beautiful, strong magical blood. His wife was perfect to look at--and both sweet and submissive. He knew that he, himself, was handsome. Such a pairing was a recipe for success. The witch appeased any of his urges to wreak havoc on the world--and bore him son after son. The boys were strong--all exhibiting magic at very young ages. Abaddon had been crackling with lightening when he took his first breath. Seth had summoned a toy to himself before he could crawl--and Ubel, the latest bloomer of the trio, broke four windows during a vicious tantrum for his first display of magic. That had been mere weeks before his sister was to be born.
It wasn't until Constance was bringing a fourth child into the world that things changed. When she went into labor with their first daughter, everyone knew that something was wrong. Her other pregnancies and birthings had been easy. During this one, though, she was suffering greatly--in intense pain and sharp, high fever took hold in her. The birthing drug on, hour after hour, her suffering growing. In those hours, Rafe began to hate his daughter. To curse her. To wish for her death--to wish she had never been conceived.
On the second day of Constance being in labor, she began to bleed...to hemorrhage. Badly. Rafe believed the healers would save his wife--he insisted they do so. But her plea was for them to save her daughter. He yelled and screamed and cursed and threatened the healers until he was forced to leave the birthing room. The last he saw of his wife alive, the color had already faded from her cheeks and she had the look of death. It was obviously she lived only to bring the girl into the world and had no strength to carry on beyond that. His last images of her were a shaking woman, burning hot, propped on ice, tears streaming down her face. She lived to hold her daughter and give her a name.
The man would not hold his daughter. He did not look at her. He did not care for her. It is only by the kindness of those who had called Constance sister and friend that the child survived infancy. With his wife gone, all improvements in his character were lost--and Rafe set himself upon the destructive path his father had taken. He would lead his sons into a life of crime and muggle torture. The men all took the mark of the Dark Lord. Rafe during the first wizarding war--his sons during the second.
Members of the family aligned first with Grindelwald and then with Voldemort and now with the Death Eaters to rise up and assert dominance of the purebloods over all others. Children are indoctrinated from birth with prejudices in regards to blood purity and magical superiority. Blood traitors, bastards, and squibs are not acknowledged on the family tree. There have been a sharp rise in the number of squib births in the modern generations. This is not discussed--and the family takes significant measures to hide this fact. There has been an abundance of cousins marrying cousins throughout the history of the family, but in the current generation a concentrated effort is being made to bring new pure lines into the tree. As such, even sons of the main line, which currently reside in London, are considering matches with second, third, and fourth daughters born to second, third and fourth sons. Sons of the subsequent branches are seeking marriage with any pure line, even the poorest of families--but this is all being done with the utmost discretion.
Born to Renard Malvolia and Sylvia Gamp, Rafe grew up alongside his younger brother, Rom, in a decently sized house, in a small Wizarding pocket of Surrey. His childhood was not the easiest one with his father in and out of prison--a precedent he would follow himself and set the same for his own sons.
Childhood may have required him to grow up quickly, but he managed to always stay a few steps ahead. The man was clever and learned quickly. His first stint in prison (and two others) were on account of sharing in with his father's illicit dealings. In the process of attempting to defend himself, he learned a certain craft for the legal language--and managed to pursue that knack while landing himself in all manner of other trouble. The more trouble he found, the better he seemed to get at finding ways out of it...at least until the Ministry began to take such a hard line against those who had supported the purist agenda.
After a three year stint, his longest by over two years--to that point, he decided he would settle down. He saw a face in Knockturn--young and pretty--and decided she was to be his wife on sight. He cleaned up his act sufficiently to earn him the blessing of her father. The girl took to his charm--and her family agreed to the union with the younger witch. By the end of the year, Rafe had married Constance. Barely a month into their marriage, she was with child.
It happen rather rapidly and he was well pleased. He did not need to kill, torture, and otherwise menace the impure to serve the purist interests. He could make children and fill the world with good blood. Beautiful, strong magical blood. His wife was perfect to look at--and both sweet and submissive. He knew that he, himself, was handsome. Such a pairing was a recipe for success. The witch appeased any of his urges to wreak havoc on the world--and bore him son after son. The boys were strong--all exhibiting magic at very young ages. Abaddon had been crackling with lightening when he took his first breath. Seth had summoned a toy to himself before he could crawl--and Ubel, the latest bloomer of the trio, broke four windows during a vicious tantrum for his first display of magic. That had been mere weeks before his sister was to be born.
It wasn't until Constance was bringing a fourth child into the world that things changed. When she went into labor with their first daughter, everyone knew that something was wrong. Her other pregnancies and birthings had been easy. During this one, though, she was suffering greatly--in intense pain and sharp, high fever took hold in her. The birthing drug on, hour after hour, her suffering growing. In those hours, Rafe began to hate his daughter. To curse her. To wish for her death--to wish she had never been conceived.
On the second day of Constance being in labor, she began to bleed...to hemorrhage. Badly. Rafe believed the healers would save his wife--he insisted they do so. But her plea was for them to save her daughter. He yelled and screamed and cursed and threatened the healers until he was forced to leave the birthing room. The last he saw of his wife alive, the color had already faded from her cheeks and she had the look of death. It was obviously she lived only to bring the girl into the world and had no strength to carry on beyond that. His last images of her were a shaking woman, burning hot, propped on ice, tears streaming down her face. She lived to hold her daughter and give her a name.
The man would not hold his daughter. He did not look at her. He did not care for her. It is only by the kindness of those who had called Constance sister and friend that the child survived infancy. With his wife gone, all improvements in his character were lost--and Rafe set himself upon the destructive path his father had taken. He would lead his sons into a life of crime and muggle torture. The men all took the mark of the Dark Lord. Rafe during the first wizarding war--his sons during the second.
other
Pisces
face claim
Lili Simmonsstatus of application
completehave you read the rules?
Of course.how did you hear about us?
Morgan
roleplay sample
The months of her working, she had kept all her coin at home, but she was beginning to gain what to her was a great deal of savings--to any other, it would have been deemed a very meager sum...but Knockturn Alley was not a safe place...and she could do nothing to keep her savings safe from theft, so she had come to Gringott's in hope of opening an account--or adding funds to the Malvolia vault. Her request to access the familial vault had been responded to with the command to provide her wand.
"I do not have a wand, sir." The timid comment was made with Lilith staring down at her feet. Her voice was so quiet. There was no doubting her shame in that moment. The goblin behind the counter clearly could not hear her and called for her to speak up. She repeated herself, but her vocalization was no louder than before. Of course, the creature could not hear her--and was beginning to become rather aggravated with the young woman.
The goblin was leaning over the counter now--and ordered her to look at him--Lilith, of course, complied. She was an obedient thing. Louder, he ordered. With more volume than she believed herself capable of she said: "I have no wand, sir." It was as if in the moment she spoke, the entire bank had fallen silent and her comment reverberated off the stone walls. Lilith was obviously mortified by the truth of her words. Tears pricked her eyes--she blinked, fighting them. She hated herself so much every time she had to confess her magicless state. She felt so small...so completely insignificant.
'Be gone with you then' was the eventual command the goblin had given her...it seemed she would be unable to access her family's vault and would not be able to get one herself with the sum she presently had...though even after talking with goblin, she wasn't even sure if she could ever get an account herself being nonmagical. She spun away and rushed towards the door. Humiliated and wholly embarrassed... why had she been so foolish to even come here? Her father's cold, hard voice cursed and taunted her--reminding her of how low beneath those who had magic, she was. Tears streaked her cheeks and her rushing made her careless. Someone who had been waiting in line just behind her was stepping forward and Lilith collided right into them.
"I'm so sorry," the squib said pitifully. "Excuse me." Lilith did not dare lift her eyes from where they were staring a hole into the ground. Her body had flinched away, recoiling in anticipation of a violent response to her carelessness. The girl was fully prepared and expecting for whoever she had run into to raise their hand against her. She deserved it, or so she thought.
To be so ignorant of the world made even the simplest tasks monumentally difficult for the squib. She knew so little. The girl could not read or write a word. Her memory was sharp—and she was quite the seamstress, but those skills did not serve her here and now. Curse her father and brothers for leaving her so helpless and alone. Curse Abbadon for getting himself killed. Lilith wanted to just crawl into a hole and cry. For all the hate and resentment she felt for the male Malvolias, she wished even just one was near. Being alone was crippling her with fear. She was not sure how much longer she could keep her wits about her when it seemed tasks that were so simple for the rest of the world were impossible for her.
Perhaps if she had possessed any form of identification what-so-ever, she could have managed to access the family vault…or to acquire some account of her own. But she had nothing. She knew her name. She knew her surname. But she had no records—no paper that validated her persona. Obviously no wand to provide as proof, either. Perhaps there was something back at the flat that could prove who she was—but how would she know? She could not recognize her name when written. Any script was all meaningless scribbles to her.
The situation was hopeless—and Lilith wished she had never come to this wretched place. Why had she left Knockturn? It never turned out well. She’d had to yell out her great shame—surely everyone in the bank would be looking at her now. The woman would not dare to look around to check. It was easier to pretend there were no traitorous tears on her cheeks, if her face was tilted to the ground. But hiding in her shame made her careless—she had run into some stranger.
Lilith made her sincere apology, but did not dare the disrespect of lifting her eyes to someone who was surely her better—someone with magic. Instead, she just waited. Waited for the punishment that would inevitably come. She almost longed for it. At least that would be familiar—it would be something she could understand…not like the rest of the world. Not like this bank…or these customs. It was not her fault she knew so little. There was no one to teach her—no one who had ever seen her as more than a servant with means so limited that she was beneath even a house elf in worth.
The strike Lilith was waiting for did not come. But instead a voice she had heard somewhere before spoke to her. Her mind tried to piece together where she had heard the distinct timber, but she could not pinpoint the memory or moment. The accent was different than most she heard in Knockturn—there was no shortage of cockney, British, Scottish, and Irish dialects being spoken within the shadows. The occasionally Russian or German would be heard to, with their brusque, hard pronunciations. This stranger’s diction bordered on something akin to those—though, Lilith, of course, had no idea where she might be from. In truth, the squib had never even heard of Bulgaria. Her knowledge of the world could be equated to a sheltered or neglected toddler. Sure, they hear snippets and tidbits, but there is no context for any information acquired—so no understanding is ever managed.
”Thank you, milady, I do apologize again for my carelessness,” Lilith countered timidly when the stranger responded that it was okay that the squib had nearly toppled her over. Lilith did not believe for a second it was okay—but could appreciate that the other woman was kind enough to overlook a lesser’s sin against her. Surely, the woman was good and admirable to exhibit such kindness. Lilith made an attempt to discreetly wipe away the stray tears that had escaped her watery eyes. A nod of her head was her inaudible response when the stranger asked if she was okay. ”I am,” she promised—her voice audible and clean in its gentle timbre. The squib could hardly believe that someone would be so kind to her—particularly after bearing witness to the exchange with the goblin and then being victim to Lilith’s lack of environmental awareness.
”We are an insignificant number,” was the soft comment offered by the timid squib. Lilth had no idea if there were others within the wizarding world that lacked wands beyond those born to magical parents, but devoid of magic themselves. The girl had no idea that veela and vampires also went without conduits. The majority of those creatures would have been able to read and write, though, so perhaps an alternative solution could have been available to them instead of providing a wand for identification. ”I cannot imagine we are worth any such accommodation.”
No matter how the stranger had spoken to her, Lilith would have never dreamed to deem the woman rude. Even if the blonde had been deliberately so, Lilith would have deemed the behavior right and just due to her station. A squib was worthless—a waste of air and resources. She had been told this for years. Practically daily for the majority of her life. Even before it became clear that she lacked magical capacity, the prejudice and pity towards those born tp a magical line without magical capacity was known to her. She had always feared it would be her fate to live her life as a mark of shame against the Malvolia line—and it was. The hate she felt from her father and brothers---and from herself—for being a squib kept the girl broken and submissive in all things. She would never believe she was worth anything more than scraps and abuse.
"I do not have a wand, sir." The timid comment was made with Lilith staring down at her feet. Her voice was so quiet. There was no doubting her shame in that moment. The goblin behind the counter clearly could not hear her and called for her to speak up. She repeated herself, but her vocalization was no louder than before. Of course, the creature could not hear her--and was beginning to become rather aggravated with the young woman.
The goblin was leaning over the counter now--and ordered her to look at him--Lilith, of course, complied. She was an obedient thing. Louder, he ordered. With more volume than she believed herself capable of she said: "I have no wand, sir." It was as if in the moment she spoke, the entire bank had fallen silent and her comment reverberated off the stone walls. Lilith was obviously mortified by the truth of her words. Tears pricked her eyes--she blinked, fighting them. She hated herself so much every time she had to confess her magicless state. She felt so small...so completely insignificant.
'Be gone with you then' was the eventual command the goblin had given her...it seemed she would be unable to access her family's vault and would not be able to get one herself with the sum she presently had...though even after talking with goblin, she wasn't even sure if she could ever get an account herself being nonmagical. She spun away and rushed towards the door. Humiliated and wholly embarrassed... why had she been so foolish to even come here? Her father's cold, hard voice cursed and taunted her--reminding her of how low beneath those who had magic, she was. Tears streaked her cheeks and her rushing made her careless. Someone who had been waiting in line just behind her was stepping forward and Lilith collided right into them.
"I'm so sorry," the squib said pitifully. "Excuse me." Lilith did not dare lift her eyes from where they were staring a hole into the ground. Her body had flinched away, recoiling in anticipation of a violent response to her carelessness. The girl was fully prepared and expecting for whoever she had run into to raise their hand against her. She deserved it, or so she thought.
To be so ignorant of the world made even the simplest tasks monumentally difficult for the squib. She knew so little. The girl could not read or write a word. Her memory was sharp—and she was quite the seamstress, but those skills did not serve her here and now. Curse her father and brothers for leaving her so helpless and alone. Curse Abbadon for getting himself killed. Lilith wanted to just crawl into a hole and cry. For all the hate and resentment she felt for the male Malvolias, she wished even just one was near. Being alone was crippling her with fear. She was not sure how much longer she could keep her wits about her when it seemed tasks that were so simple for the rest of the world were impossible for her.
Perhaps if she had possessed any form of identification what-so-ever, she could have managed to access the family vault…or to acquire some account of her own. But she had nothing. She knew her name. She knew her surname. But she had no records—no paper that validated her persona. Obviously no wand to provide as proof, either. Perhaps there was something back at the flat that could prove who she was—but how would she know? She could not recognize her name when written. Any script was all meaningless scribbles to her.
The situation was hopeless—and Lilith wished she had never come to this wretched place. Why had she left Knockturn? It never turned out well. She’d had to yell out her great shame—surely everyone in the bank would be looking at her now. The woman would not dare to look around to check. It was easier to pretend there were no traitorous tears on her cheeks, if her face was tilted to the ground. But hiding in her shame made her careless—she had run into some stranger.
Lilith made her sincere apology, but did not dare the disrespect of lifting her eyes to someone who was surely her better—someone with magic. Instead, she just waited. Waited for the punishment that would inevitably come. She almost longed for it. At least that would be familiar—it would be something she could understand…not like the rest of the world. Not like this bank…or these customs. It was not her fault she knew so little. There was no one to teach her—no one who had ever seen her as more than a servant with means so limited that she was beneath even a house elf in worth.
The strike Lilith was waiting for did not come. But instead a voice she had heard somewhere before spoke to her. Her mind tried to piece together where she had heard the distinct timber, but she could not pinpoint the memory or moment. The accent was different than most she heard in Knockturn—there was no shortage of cockney, British, Scottish, and Irish dialects being spoken within the shadows. The occasionally Russian or German would be heard to, with their brusque, hard pronunciations. This stranger’s diction bordered on something akin to those—though, Lilith, of course, had no idea where she might be from. In truth, the squib had never even heard of Bulgaria. Her knowledge of the world could be equated to a sheltered or neglected toddler. Sure, they hear snippets and tidbits, but there is no context for any information acquired—so no understanding is ever managed.
”Thank you, milady, I do apologize again for my carelessness,” Lilith countered timidly when the stranger responded that it was okay that the squib had nearly toppled her over. Lilith did not believe for a second it was okay—but could appreciate that the other woman was kind enough to overlook a lesser’s sin against her. Surely, the woman was good and admirable to exhibit such kindness. Lilith made an attempt to discreetly wipe away the stray tears that had escaped her watery eyes. A nod of her head was her inaudible response when the stranger asked if she was okay. ”I am,” she promised—her voice audible and clean in its gentle timbre. The squib could hardly believe that someone would be so kind to her—particularly after bearing witness to the exchange with the goblin and then being victim to Lilith’s lack of environmental awareness.
”We are an insignificant number,” was the soft comment offered by the timid squib. Lilth had no idea if there were others within the wizarding world that lacked wands beyond those born to magical parents, but devoid of magic themselves. The girl had no idea that veela and vampires also went without conduits. The majority of those creatures would have been able to read and write, though, so perhaps an alternative solution could have been available to them instead of providing a wand for identification. ”I cannot imagine we are worth any such accommodation.”
No matter how the stranger had spoken to her, Lilith would have never dreamed to deem the woman rude. Even if the blonde had been deliberately so, Lilith would have deemed the behavior right and just due to her station. A squib was worthless—a waste of air and resources. She had been told this for years. Practically daily for the majority of her life. Even before it became clear that she lacked magical capacity, the prejudice and pity towards those born tp a magical line without magical capacity was known to her. She had always feared it would be her fate to live her life as a mark of shame against the Malvolia line—and it was. The hate she felt from her father and brothers---and from herself—for being a squib kept the girl broken and submissive in all things. She would never believe she was worth anything more than scraps and abuse.
