WHO: Rebekah Salvatore and Klaus Mikaelson WHAT: FEEEEEELS! WHEN: Today. This afternoon. WHERE: Crowley's house. RATING: TBD, but it is the most dysfunctional siblings talking about Hell. STATUS: In Progress [Cut lyrics: Lana Del Rey 'Born to Die']
It had been just over a day since Lexi had gotten through to her and Rebekah had cracked, flipping the switch, turning the emotions back on. In the end it had been fear that got to her first. So much fear, some of it carried through her entire life, and now with the fear of the Cage thrown into her soul as well. And Rebekah had screamed and cried, tried to push Stefan away, even when he had refused to leave. How could he not hate her after what she did? How could he even look at her?
How could any of them?
She had fallen in the worst way, been too weak and had turned everything off to run from her emotions, when if she had just held out a few more years...
Okay, it wouldn't have been fine. Rebekah wasn't even sure she could ever be fine again. Every time she closed her eyes she was back there, among the pain and the fire, seeing the world as a wasteland. When she drank blood, she choked it back up, unable to swallow it down no matter how hungry she was. Out of the corner of her eye, she kept thinking she saw figures, people coming to get her, to hurt her. Every noise made her jump and she hated herself for being so skittish, like some damned newborn vampire, unused to the enhanced senses that came with being one of her kind. Of being an abomination like them.
No matter how much she had tried to shut them out, people had refused to leave Rebekah alone the night before, Stefan, Caroline, Kol. If she was honest, she barely even noticed which one of them was near her at any one time, just the feeling of their presence, tensing any time any of them touched her, part of her braced for pain that never came. Waiting for their words to become mocking somehow.
She had managed to wander for a few minutes through the house, unfamiliar as it was. One of Crowley's, she vaguely remembered being told. It was impressive, even had a library. And when she had seen one antique volume, she had laughed bitterly, taking it from the shelf and back to her room. It sat on a table by the bed, her wedding ring beside it. She hadn't felt as though she deserved to put it back on yet. Aphrodite was curled up, asleep on Rebekah's pillow as she herself sat on the windowsill, staring out at the gardens. Her fingers were curled around a mug of green tea, one of the few things she felt able to actually keep down as she sipped at it, drawing the warmth from the mug into her hands. Her door was closed, but not locked, a sort of silent compromise between her want to be alone and her family's desire to not let her be.