Mikaelson manson
Rebekah's once beautiful features were contorted in pain and distress as she hunched over the toilet, the sound of violent retching punctuating the silence. Blood splattered from her mouth, staining the porcelain a garish crimson, and with each heave, several teeth clattered against the bowl.
Her reflection in the mirror only heightened her despair—her skin had taken on an ashen pallor, and her eyes bore the telltale redness of broken capillaries. The transformation was both alarming and disheartening.
Just then, Klaus entered the room, his eyes widening at the sight of his sister's suffering. "What is wrong with you?" he demanded, though his words held a hint of genuine concern beneath the gruffness.
Rebekah, too consumed by her own pain and resentment, merely shot her brother a bitter glance. "Like you care," she spat, her voice laden with pain.
With a trembling hand, Rebekah wiped the blood from her mouth, the crimson liquid smearing against the back of her hand. Despite the agony coursing through her body, she was determined to maintain her facade as a human teenager, no matter the cost.
"I have to get ready for homecoming," she announced, her voice wavering slightly as she pushed past her brother.
Klaus, ever the cynic, couldn't resist a smirk. "So you're still pretending to be a student?" he questioned, his tone rife with amusement and derision.
Refusing to be baited, Rebekah shoved her pain deep down, turning to face her brother with a steely gaze. "Yes, because it's the closest thing I can get to being human without you sucking the joy out of my life."
With that, Rebekah swept past Klaus, her stride surprisingly steady given the internal turmoil she was experiencing. There was no time for weakness, not when she had a dance to prepare for—a dance that served as a fleeting reminder of the life she had always longed for but could never truly attain.
As Rebekah left to ready herself for the homecoming dance, Klaus found himself alone in the room, the weight of his unspoken thoughts heavy upon his shoulders. His mind raced as he began to formulate a plan—one born not only out of his desire to unsettle Cassandra, but also out of a deeply buried need that he himself was not yet ready to acknowledge.
Through the network of spies he had strategically placed around Cassandra, Klaus had learned of her anticipation for the dance. This knowledge was like a siren's call to him, drawing him in with the promise of wreaking havoc and throwing her off balance.
Or so he told himself.
In truth, Klaus's motivations were far more complicated than he was willing to admit. There was something about Cassandra that drew him in, a magnetic pull that he could neither explain nor ignore. As he plotted and schemed, he couldn't help but wonder if perhaps there was more to his intentions than a simple desire for chaos—if, perhaps, his true feelings lay buried beneath the surface, waiting to be uncovered.
Gilbert Residents.
As the morning sunlight filtered through her bedroom window, i stirred from my slumber, the lingering fog of sleep quickly dissipating as i became aware of the activity surrounding me. The sound of hangers clinking together and the rustle of fabric pulled me fully into the waking world, and i realized my sister, Elena, was already rummaging through my closet in search of the perfect homecoming outfit.
"Ah, god, I hate that you have better fashion sense than me," Elena teased, a playful grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.
Chuckling, i replied, "Thanks, sis. But if you can't find anything to wear, let's just stay in and watch bad TV."
Elena's eyes sparkled with amusement, but her expression soon turned sly. "Love to, but did you forget Caroline is your best friend?"
Cassandra's eyes widened as the realization hit her. "Right," she breathed, remembering the importance of the dance, not only for herself but for her friend as well.
Salvatore Manor.
Enzo stood in front of the mirror, fiddling with the knot of his tie as he grumbled to himself about the absurdity of the situation. The thought of attending a high school dance was about as appealing as a stake through the heart—after all, he'd much rather be doing anything else.
Yet here he was, dressing up to attend this ridiculous event, all because Caroline had been so insistent. She had argued that since he had been held captive and tortured, he deserved to experience all the things he had missed out on during the last fifty years, including dances.
At first, Enzo had been determined to refuse, but then Cassandra, his "little fire," had reminded him of his own words—that he wanted to make up for lost time. The memory brought a smirk to his face, even as he continued to struggle with the tie. Oh, how the tables had turned.
Gilbert Residents.
With their nails freshly painted and their spirits high, i and Elena were in the midst of sharing a lighthearted conversation when Caroline's frantic voice pierced through the air, her tone dripping with disbelief.
"You won't believe it—the gym is flooded! Can you imagine? They tried to cancel the dance. Luckily for us, it didn't work."
Confusion clouded my mind as i attempted to make sense of Caroline's words. "What do you mean, 'it didn't work'?" I questioned. "If the gym is flooded, then there's no dance, right?"
A sinking feeling of dread took root in my stomach, my instincts screaming that something was amiss. Who could be behind the flooding of the gym?
Caroline continued, her voice laced with a hint of guilt. "Well, don't be mad, but Klaus volunteered for us to use his house for the dance."
Cassandra couldn't hold back her frustration, a curse escaping her lips as the truth dawned on her.
A sense of resignation washed over me as i pieced together Klaus's motivations. It was all too clear—with the wards surrounding Tyler's house preventing his entry and rendering his compulsion useless, Klaus had resorted to a different tactic. By volunteering his own home for the dance, he was not only ingratiating himself with the very people he sought to manipulate but also ensuring that Cassandra would be well within his grasp.
The cunning behind Klaus's plan was impressive, but it did little to quell the frustration bubbling within me. My mind raced, desperately searching for a way to turn the tables on Klaus and protect my friends from his malicious intent.
In the midst of my growing despair, i couldn't help but utter a resigned thought, "Fuck my life."
Mikaelson Mansion
As much as it pained me to admit, i couldn't deny that Klaus knew how to throw a party. The atmosphere was electric, with a rock band belting out tunes in the garden, and students from school filling the grounds, their laughter and chatter mingling with the pulsing rhythm of the music.
Amidst the revelry, i couldn't help but notice Tyler and Elena locked in a passionate kiss. The sight brought a small smile to her lips—it seemed that Tyler's mission to New Orleans had been a success, bringing my plans closer to fruition
For a moment, i allowed herself to get swept up in the infectious energy of the party, the troubles of the day momentarily forgotten. But deep down, i knew that Klaus's ulterior motives still lurked beneath the surface, a constant reminder that this celebration could be nothing more than a prelude to the storm that was to come.
I stood on the periphery of the dance floor, observing the merriment unfolding before me. Despite my efforts to immerse myself in the festivities, a nagging sense of unease remained, my senses heightened to any potential danger.
It was then that i felt a familiar presence sidle up beside me a magical signature that was unmistakable. Without turning to face him, i knew it was Klaus, his very aura radiating an air of menace.
"Drink?" Klaus offered, extending a glass to her. But i remained stoic, steadfastly ignoring his gesture.
Undeterred, Klaus continued, his voice laced with amusement. "You look beautiful in red. The color of blood suits you."
Though his words were meant to be flattering, i couldn't help but perceive the double-edged meaning behind them, a thinly veiled reminder of the darker aspects of their nature.
With a swift motion, Cassandra turned to face Klaus, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What the hell are you up to?" she demanded, her glare piercing through his facade of nonchalance.
Klaus, still feigning ignorance, took a sip of his drink before responding, "What could you possibly mean?"
A cold, humorless chuckle escaped my lips, my irritation palpable. "A high school dance, really? Don't you have friends your own age to hang out with? Oh, that's right, I keep forgetting everybody hates you."
Without waiting for a response, i excused herself, leaving a seething Klaus alone. I knew it was only a matter of time before his true intentions came to light, and i was determined to keep my guard up, no matter how alluring the festivities might be.
As i made her way through the crowd, i couldn't help but wonder if Klaus's presence at the dance was a calculated move or merely a diversion from a more sinister scheme. One thing was certain—she wouldn't let him catch her off guard.
The gentle sound of water cascading from the fountain provided a soothing backdrop as Cassandra sat alone, lost in her thoughts. It was no surprise to her that Klaus would have such a luxurious feature at his home, a testament to his ostentatious nature.
Stefan, having noticed her absence from the dance floor, approached and took a seat beside her. "I thought I'd find you up there with the rest of them," he remarked, his voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and concern.
I couldn't help but laugh at the comment. "I'll be there in a minute. I just wanted to take in the scenery for a bit," i explained, a wistful note creeping into her tone. "I never had this in my last life, but I made sure my sister in my previous life did. I promised myself that if I were reborn, I'd do whatever I couldn't do in that life."
There was a weight to her words, a sense of determination and longing that spoke volumes of the experiences she had missed out on and the resolve to make up for lost time.
Enzo's senses were on high alert as he immersed himself in the lively atmosphere of the party, reveling in the sounds and sights that surrounded him. However, his momentary respite was interrupted when he detected something amiss—a scent that signaled danger, a hint of distress that demanded investigation.
Following the trail, Enzo found himself face-to-face with a girl, her blonde hair framing a face contorted in pain. Blood dripped from her mouth, staining the ground beneath her. Instinctively, Enzo rushed to her aid, offering a bottle of water for her to rinse out her mouth.
Grateful, the girl accepted the water and wiped her mouth, her pallor betraying her exhaustion. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice hoarse.
Concerned, Enzo asked, "If you're sick, why didn't you stay home?"
To his surprise, the girl simply laughed. "Would you believe me if I told you this is my home?" she asked, her tone tinged with irony as she glanced around at the opulent surroundings.
Enzo gently led the ailing girl to a quiet, secluded area, away from the chaos and noise of the party. As he observed her condition, a sense of familiarity washed over him—he had seen something like this before, perhaps in one of Cassandra's books. His mind raced as he tried to recall the details, hoping to find some insight into the girl's affliction.
Unbeknownst to Enzo, a fight had broken out outside, drawing the attention of Elena and others. Amidst the commotion, one of the partygoers was injured, prompting Elena to kneel beside them. Without fully understanding her own actions, she placed her hand on the wound, as if summoning power from the very earth itself. To her astonishment, the wound began to heal, closing up before her very eyes.
Across the garden, i bore witness to the extraordinary scene unfolding before her. Her eyes widened in shock, a single word escaping her lips: "Fuck."
My outfit.