❝ welcome to the final show! ❞
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THE CEREMONY DIDN'T LAST too long, thankfully. Rosalie had received her diploma, an occurrence she had been anticipating since she started college, and she wanted to bolt out the door the moment her fingertips grazed its surface. For someone who had put so much effort, it was shocking that the urge to disappear was stronger than relief or happiness. She didn't even want to be there. The whole thing was completely overrated, people clapped after her speech was done and everyone looked sickeningly happy. Well, it would be strange to say otherwise, given the event she was attending, but she just wanted to go home, wherever that was.
Becoming a licensed lawyer didn't give her as much happiness as she had expected, yet she kept on smiling for the sake of her family at the back of the room. Mrs Monet was dabbing a handkerchief at her tears, and beside her was a grinning Mr Monet, looking so proud. How could she ever think of disappointing them?
Her siblings were sat next to them, clapping without much enthusiasm. Jacob was tugging at the collar of his button-down, irritation clear on his face. Beside him was Alaska, who was surprisingly wearing a dress. The make up hadn't covered her apparent fatigue, and Rosalie felt her stomach coil at the sight of it. Rosalie knew they were happy for her, but circumstances had forced them to act differently.
"Hey, Rosalie, did you hear me?"
The brunette looked up from her pasta, to be faced with the expectant gaze of her father. He wore a small, yet confused smile, eyes patient as he caught his daughter's attention.
Rosalie felt her face flush upon realizing that she had zoned out for the umpteenth time. It was one thing to unconsciously do it in her lonesome, but for it to be witnessed by her family multiple times was just embarrassing. "Sorry, Dad." She gave a breathy chuckle to cover her humiliation. "Can you say it again, please?"
"I said," Mr Monet reiterated, not unkindly. "I'm really proud of you, sweetheart. Really, really proud. There wasn't a doubt in my mind that you could do it."
Oh. She swallowed hard at the words. For the first time in her life, her father directly said the sentence she had been craving to hear. I'm proud of you. Her parents, though kind, had never explicitly said what they wanted from her. Rosalie's academic success was something that was just...expected. She could vaguely recall her kindergarten teacher telling Mrs Monet what an 'excellent and advanced student' Rosalie was, and the look of pride her mother had gave her. It started and snowballed on from that moment.
Her first epiphany had happened in her sixth grade, where she had nearly fallen asleep during the midterm test because she barely slept the night before as a cause of cramps from her first menstrual cycle. The look on her mother's face after that one, singular time Rosalie had received a nearly average score on her English midterms was something she'd never forget. There were no words spoken, but that expression was more than enough to affect her.
"Thank you." She spoke, voice just as shaky as she felt. Thankfully, a waiter came by to refill their beverages, which diverted everyone's attention from Rosalie. For a few minutes, the only sound amongst the group of six was cutlery against plates as they ate lunch.
"I'm going to the restroom, please excuse me for a sec." Camille smiled at them before standing up. The Monet family had welcomed her with open arms when Rosalie suggested inviting her to the celebratory lunch. Mrs Monet thanked her for 'being such a kind friend to her daughter.' Camille blushed.
"Listen, Ro," Mrs Monet said in a gentle voice, promting Rosalie to meet her gaze. "This might come as a shock, so I'm just gonna say it. We've decided to move back to France."
It took Rosalie a moment to register her mother's words, and her jaw almost dropped at the revelation. France, where she had been born. France, where her family had fled just months after her birth. France, where they never, not once, returned.
Mrs Monet continued talking as though her daughter was not in a state of shock. "Your father was given a job offerㅡa very generous oneㅡand, well, your grandparents would really appreciate being close to us. It's perfect, really."
"Youㅡwhat?" It was a dizzying notion. Both of her siblings had been born in the United States, and none of the Monet children set foot in the European country once the family had settled. Not for Christmas, or New Year's, not for visits or sightseeing. It was Rosalie's birth place, where her father's parents resided. She didn't even knowㅡnever dared to askㅡwhy they never returned, and the news of moving back was all so sudden and unexpected.
"We're not forcing you to go with us," Mr Monet said in a kind tone. "But we wouldn't be opposed if you came with."
Rosalie's eyes involuntarily flickered to her sister at the other end of the table. "All four of you are going back to France?"
"I haven't decided yet," Alaska mumbled. Their gazes met, and the blonde quickly looked away. Ever since the argument a few weeks prior, Rosalie hadn't talked to either Monet sibling. The brunette hadn't talked to any of her friends from Mystic Falls. She told herself that she was busy with school work and there wasn't enough time; but with college done, that excuse was useless.
"I'm sorry, Mom..." Rosalie exhaled. The brunette twiddled with her thumbs, but forced herself to meet her mother's eyesㅡall blue and intense. "IㅡI don't think I can go this time, I meanㅡ"
"That's completely fine, Ro" Mrs Monet smiled at her daughter, reaching over to pat her hand in a comforting manner. "We're not forcing you to go, as long as you're happy."
Rosalie smiled weakly.
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"Fiji, I'm home!"
Rosalie dropped her keys on the counter, and shrugged her coat off. It was well into the night, and she was utterly tired. She had spent the whole day with her family, who were already on the next flight back home. Well, with the recent news of the Monet family moving, Mystic Falls would no longer hold that title.
It was oddly silent in the appartment, the brunette noted. Fiji always approached her before she even stepped through the door way. "Fi? Hey, boy, where are you?"
Rosalie walked to the kitchen, which was one of the most frequented space, and inspected the area. Neither Camille nor Fiji was present. She took a carton of milk from the refrigerator, because dairy was obviously good for the body. Then, the Monet retrieved a glass from the cabinet on other side of the room, closing an open drawer while she was at it. The brunette sat on one of the stools at the counter, and poured herself a glass of milk before grabbing her phone and scrolling through her contacts. She texted Cami, nearly jumping out of her skin when a phone pinged with a notification somewhere in the apartment.
"Camille? Hello?" Rosalie stood up, trying to hear any indication of movement. "Come on, it's 10 PM. Are you seriously pranking me at this hour?"
The Monet rubbed a hand over her face, tiredly trudging to the living room. "Just come out, I wanna sleep already."
Rosalie stepped through the threshold, freezing. "What theㅡ"
A man, tall and menacing, stood in the middle of their living room, holding a limp and unconscious Camille in his arms. One of his hands supported her friend's body, while the other held a kitchen knife pressed against her neck. "Don't move, or I'll slit her throat."
She blanched, heart thudding painfully against her chest. Rosalie swallowed. She slowly showed her hands, palms facing him, one of which was clutching her phone. "Okay. Okay, there's no need to be violent, yeah? Just...just let her go, no one needs to get hurt."
The man narrowed his eyes at her, increasing the pressure of the knife on Camille's throat. "Put your phone on the table."
There were no clear indications of prior physical abuse on Camille from her view, which was a small relief at the present situation. Rosalie paled, spotting Fiji's blond body unmoving in a corner.
"Now!" The man roared, causing her to snap out of it. Rosalie complied with his command, movements slow and careful. "What do you want?" she asked, accusingly.
He opened his mouth to speak, but only a surprised intake of air came out, accompanied by the sound of something being squished. She gave him a strange look, wondering what could possibly be wrong at this point. Then, he was kneeling down, taking Camille with him. Rosalie blinked at the crumpling man before her, his fallen body revealing a woman holding a bloody lump in her hand. It took her a moment to realize it was a heart.
Rosalie could've passed as a statue with how still she stood.
"I don't know who the hell you think you are, butㅡ" the Monet gulped, trying to stop the shudder that came with seeing an actual human heart out in the open. She shifted her eyes on Cami's form, which was now covered by a dead body.
"Klaus is a friend of mine." The woman said, casually, as though she hadn't just killed a man with her bare hand, like her aura was not intimidating enough.
Her golden eyes narrowed at the name, but remained on Camille. "Oh, it's Klaus now?" Rosalie said through gritted teeth, "Why don't you tell him he caㅡ"
"Rosalie, it's okay," she muttered distractedly as she lifted the corpse, which was now grey and covered with veins, without straining a muscle. She dragged it to the side and propped it in a sitting position, tossing the heart next to it. "I'm not going to hurt you. You have my word."
"You commited murder right in front of me. Seriously, I just became a lawyer less than 24 hours ago..."
"My name's Persephone." She said, like her name would help the situation. Persephone approached Camille cautiously for the brunette's sake, lifting her body with care.
"Right..." Rosalie's gaze was set on her friend, who was now being carried to the couch. She watched Persephone check on her, terrified that Camille would suffer the consequences if she interfered. Persephone cradled a hand on the back of Camille's head, quietly muttering incoherent words.
Once she was done, the raven-haired woman suddenly looked at Rosalie, gravely saying, "You have to come with me."
That seemed to wake her up, a bout of fury flooding her senses.
"Oh, God. Not this again. What did you do?" Rosalie approached her, still knelt over Camille's body. "What's happening to Camille?"
Persephone sighed, dusting her pants off as she stood. The Monet took the opportunity to check on Camille. "She'll be fine. I knew you weren't going to cooperate."
Rosalie threw her a dry look. "You think?" The brunette meticulously searched for injuries, finding none. The spot Persephone had held had clumps of dried blood, sticking to her blonde hair, yet there were no wounds at her scalp. Satisfied, Rosalie then moved to Fiji, who was also unconscious and unharmed, but breathing nonetheless.
"Listen, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way. I'd really rather not do the hard way. I just have to take you somewhere to talk, okay? Just to talk, I promise."
"Why can't we talk here?" Rosalie squinted.
"It's not me who has to do the talking." Persephone crossed her arms, straining her leather jacket. "I'll even answer your questions on the way. I'm sure you have many."
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"So, it's true then, what Alaska said." Rosalie glanced at the driver's side where Persephone sat. "There are...vampires? God, that sounds so ridiculous."
They passed a streetlight, briefly illuminating the slight smile on Persephone's lips. "I agree, they can be absurdly ridiculous."
"What about you?"
"What about me?"
The Monet crossed her arms, feeling terribly vulnerable in her get-up. "Are you a vampire?"
"Ew, no," she dramatically shuddered. "Thank heavens."
Rosalie chewed on her bottom lip, carefully choosing her words. "Alaska mentioned something about...Klaus feeding my cousin blood to cure her. If you're not a vampire, how did you help Cami? How did you kill that man back there?"
Weirdly enough, the idea of witnessing a display of supernatural ability hadn't shocked her. It seemed...almost normal. Like watching an old film from childhood, nostalgic and predictable.
"I have my ways." Persephone answered vaguely.
"So, the Mikaelsons are all vampires?" Rosalie questioned, thinking of how odd their conversation might seem to an outsider.
"Yeah," Persephone replied in a tone that was just as casual. "They're called Originals because they're the first vampires, and they're all pretty smug about it, those idiots. Maybe because they killed so many people..."
"If this is your plan to get me to trust anyone from your cult, it's a rubbish tactic 'cause it's having the opposite effect."
"Urgh," she groaned. "Don't say it like that."
"Look," the brunette sighed in resignation. "I'm really confused, and tired, and nothing about our conversation is sinking in. I'm honestly not sure if I'm dreaming or not, I just want to back to my apartment."
"I'm sorry, Rosalie, but I really have to do this." Her voice was kind and comforting, sounding like she meant everything she said.
So much for Rosalie's pitiful tactic. She frowned in thought, would jumping from the car be worth it? Probably not. The brunette glanced at Persephone, might as well get some information...
"The blood drinking I told you about? Alaska says he did it in front of me. Do you know why I can't remember any of it?"
Persephone hummed, pondering. "Klaus could have compelled you to forget about it, but I don't think he did."
"What do you mean 'compelled'?"
"Like mind control, or hypnosis. Vampires can do that if they want."
Her brows furrowed. "He's a vampire, isn't he? Why would you think he didn't compel me?"
Persephone didn't answer, suddenly developing a new-found interest in focusing on the road. It was frustrating, but Rosalie thought of another question, "What else can vampires do?"
Persephone took it in stride. "Enhanced speed and strength, and heightened senses. It depends on their age, I think. The older they are, the more powerful they get."
"So..." She tried to connect the pieces with what she knew. "Basically, the Originals are on top of the food chain."
"Pretty much." The raven-haired woman shrugged.
"Great." Sarcasm dripped from her voice. "Don't they have any weaknesses?"
Persephone proceeded to tell her about daylight rings, and vervain, and wooden stakes. Then White Oak trees, and Originals, and hybrids, and all that. It was overwhelming and exhilarating at the same time to actually know things. Rosalie found herself grateful for Persephone, though she was being taken against her will.
The car was silent, and Rosalie's mind was whirring with information. It was awesome. Persephone spoke up, "What did he do?"
Rosalie hummed in question.
"Klaus, I mean. You seem pissed at him." Persephone glowed at her own observation. For someone who was talking about a friend behind their back, she looked awfully happy at the prospect of Rosalie's anger directed at him.
Rosalie stopped herself from replying when the expression of joy faded from Persephone, who now had dread written all over her. The car stopped, prompting the Monet to tear her gaze from her companion. The brunette looked around to determine where they were, but it was too dark to see without the vehicle's headlights on.
"We're here."
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