Ava was known for running away.
What happens when she finally has to come home only to be met with the demons she tried to leave behind.
Ava O'Connell was ready to go for good, until one pretentious family got in her way.
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Well, avangaline was over the moon.
Who wouldn't be when their witchy companion unloaded a bombshell the size of an undead blonde witch mother who wants to kill all her children one by one. Or save them... it didn't make any sense.
Before the room exploded in 'how can we stop it.'s and cries of impatience, Ava marched to the only other person who would care to know the answer.
*****
The ballroom door swung open and revealed a scene that made Avangaliene grimace. Blood pooled onto the floor as it dropped down the dark skinned witch.
His head had lifted slightly at the sound of her entrance but fell when he saw her face. Exhaustion tearing away at him as any life left his body with each morsel of blood puddling under his lifted feet.
The blonde stormed up to the witch, choosing to ignore the state he was in as his hands groped at chain dangling from the ceiling.
Her fist recoiled and slammed into his cheek, feeling the crack under her fingers and smirking in victory. His head snapped to the side as the air shuddered out past his lips, eyes still sunken and deep within their sockets.
"Why the bloody hell me?" Ava shouted, rubbing her knuckles slightly as they reddened from the punch.
Vincent chuckled lowly as his head lifted to match her glower.
The expression was far to insane.
"Because you're the perfect candidate. Healthy, beautiful, smart... you not only already speak like us, but so many people worship the ground you walk on- or at least Camilles. No one would question the change of personality as you already act like her. And klaus would murder anybody who touched a single strand of hair adorning your head." Vincent's voice was weak and pained, yet the smile still clung to his lips like the chains clung to his wrists.
"Well fix it. Do something and abracadabra her out of me!" Ava yelled as her hands balled into fists, a glare plastered in her eyes. Vincent still chuckled, his gaze tracing in between the girl and his blood soaked shoes.
"I can't. Only mother can." The man replied nonchalantly, guilt edging further into his voice as he watched the despair sink into the helpless girls expression. It had began to settle at that point.
She couldn't stop it. Her body would no longer be controlled by her, and she had no idea how that would affect her.
Would she still be able to see and hear and feel?
Feel the pain and destruction as her friends fall by her own hand. Like a puppet, her hands restrained by a psychopathic puppeteer.
