Deciding that it would be the best decision in order to keep the rest of their friends safe, Stefan and Elena have left Mystic Falls. However, their idea hasn't worked out just as well as they thought it would, as Damon finds mysterious women appearing with a vendetta against him. When he decides to enlist Alaric and Bonnie to help him with a little investigating, events ensue that not one of the three would have ever planned on.
This place is a fucking mess. A simple thought, but it was currently the only one that there was to give. It was a fairly accurate statement anyway, the entire aura surrounding Mystic Falls had been torn to Hell ever since 1864, but ever since Klaus had made his appearance it seemed as though it was entirely obliterated. Unless you were incredibly oblivious, incredibly stupid, you could tell there was something amiss in the air of the town, that there was a crack in the atmosphere that was irreparable. It was enough to make most people shudder, but to Damon Salvatore, it just a disgusting tickle that gave him the urge to puke; especially when he was this bored.
Three months, that was how it had been since Stefan and Elena had decided to pull their little move, and for those past months everything had seemed to be getting duller by the second. Of course, that had been the idea of it all, them to both go somewhere more secure, but at the same time keep their friends and family out of more danger. Damon had been skeptical that it would be a successful plan, but so far it seemed to be doing quite well, which begged the question; what the hell was he still doing in Mystic Falls? As far as he could bother to consider all of his attachments to the god forsaken town were broken, he could just go back to doing whatever he pleased whenever he wanted to do it. Yet, here he was, and doing what? Sitting on a roof, drinking what he was sadly sure was probably the last of his bourbon.
He wasn't going to call it moping, because Damon Salvatore sure as hell would never admit to doing such a thing, but to be honest that was exactly what he was doing. His initial thought would be that this was because of Elena, he was very under the impression that he was in love with her, after all, but for some reason the lack of the doppelganger's presence didn't linger on his mind nearly as much as it did when she had first left. Instead, it was Stefan. After the situation of Stefan going with Klaus had played out in a long, annoying manner, there wasn't much time for Damon to try to thank his brother for saving his life. Rather he was gone as quickly as he has shown back up, and though he definitely wasn't going to admit it, he missed his brother. He missed Stefan a lot more than he missed Elena, and that was causing him to reflect back on what he thought he felt, and reflecting was a dreaded thing.
So, it was better to drink, to numb his mind and not think at all. However he didn't have nearly enough bourbon left right now to stop thinking, only a light buzz that felt like an annoying vibration in his brain. The only options he had were to either find more alcohol (and the stage of the buzz he was in was currently the laziness stage) or to distract himself with other things, namely, people watching. Essentially it just seemed like there were a lot of morons wandering around, doing brainless activities that they only did so they didn't listen to their mortal clocks ticking away. They were the types of things that put Damon into a predatory mood, and somewhere in the back of his thoughts there was need to hunt, but his current laziness did a fair job at suppressing it. Instead he just played with different ideal situations, different tactics of how to swoop down and take a moron out and there wouldn't be a single blink from any of the excess morons before they were both gone. It was a beautiful art.
This mental game of cat and mouse had been playing for at least fifteen minutes before Damon was pushed out of it via his subconscious. The vampire glanced around, not sure on what was disturbing him, but feeling something incredibly wrong, even in the already torn setting. It seemed like there was a mist surrounding him, one that he could feel, see and assumed he could touch, however when he reached in front of him, the air didn't feel at all different. What happened the moment after he tried to touch the fog was all a blur.
It was as though he has suddenly tuned into a bad channel, all of his previous thoughts had suddenly been clouded and he could remember how to do anything properly. The only thing he managed was to stand up, looking around once more to try and see what was making him abruptly brainless. The mist was thicker now, though, and any attempts to even see his own hand in front of his face would have been in vain. There was no seeing, there was no thinking, and though Damon couldn't say he had ever been the claustrophobic type, he was definitely beginning to feel like he was closed in some place that he wouldn't be able to get out of.
Just as the clouded trap was starting to feel like it would last an eternity, Damon felt himself hit the concrete roof with a meaningful amount of force. Lying down made it somewhat easier for him to see, but there were still no details, just shadows and lights that appeared to be a million miles away. In the midst of blurs, a silhouette was just barely visible; it was clearly that of a woman, with beautiful curves that framed a body that, if it were fully apparent with all of it's details, Damon would have been able to appreciate. He lifted his head trying to see the woman more clearly, the fog moving right on top of him again as he did. The sound of the mysterious silhouette walking closer was audible still, and by the time that the footsteps stopped Damon was certain that the figure was now practically hovering over top of him.
He waited, not sure he could move, or if he could what he even planned to do. Whether it be a stake to the heart or a kick to the groin, something had to be coming to him either way. After what seemed like a very elongated moment, a soft, almost sultry voice echoed in his ears. "Damon Salvatore," It didn't take him long to register that it wasn't anyone he ever heard say his name before, if he'd ever met them at all, making the situation all the more curious. The feeling of what was easily recognized as a heel against the most sensitive part of his lower body made him cringe and tense up to the point that he almost missed the rest of the stranger's statement. "Consider this your warning. Get out of Mystic Falls. Do not move to any city which belongs to us. Make yourself disappear, or be prepared to face the consequences." The heel moved away from it's danger zone and Damon relaxed slightly despite what he was being told. "You have forty-eight hours, Mr. Salvatore. Do not take this lightly."
Damon blinked rapidly in hopes that it would somehow allow him to see the woman, but just as quickly as she had shown up the silhouette was gone, and the mist was gone shortly after, fading back into the crisp evening air. Sitting up, Damon looked around trying to make something of what had just gone on, and he had come to one conclusion; he was absolutely and altogether clueless. So much for dull.