I have nothing to say about this, except that the inspiration came to me at about 5 AM in the morning one day this week. And it was finished sleep-deprived as well, so, there you go. Elena might be OOC and angsty, bla bla bla, but I own nothing...I've been in a weird mood all week. That being said...Enjoy?
It was a dreary night in Mystic Falls. Rain had pummeled the town relentlessly all day long, and it had just ceased about an hour ago. Tree branches, telephone polls, mailboxes...Everything within reach of nature's tears dripped, heavy with the weight of them.
In an average-sized house in a decent neighborhood of the town, a young girl appeared to be in the midst of an average teenaged evening. Dressing in a cami and shorts, brushing her hair and teeth, preparing for bed, Elena Gilbert could be a poster girl for teenagers in that moment. On the surface.
Sighing, Elena sat down at her desk, staring into the mirror on the wall behind it, at the pictures covering the ornate frame. Pictures of her and Stefan, her and Jeremy, her and Damon...All pictures taken in good times, less stressful times, though her life had never been simple since the supernatural became involved. She plucked a particular favorite from the mirror, a shot of her piggybacking on Stefan, arms linked around his neck, both of them grinning like mad. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, returning the photo to its original position.
Stefan had been gone for months; her heart still ached with his absence, but the pain was somehow muted now. She was simply becoming a robot. The events preceding and following the sacrifice had beaten her emotions to a bloody pulp and left them to die in the street. It was easier not to feel at this point, to immerse herself in a daily routine of shower, go to school, complete homework, then watch a movie or something with Alaric, since Jeremy was out so often with Bonnie nowadays. And finally, sleep, where she could be lost in better times.
Damon's puppy eyes were bothering the hell out of her; he constantly dogged her steps, not understanding that what she had done the night Stefan had left, had been done out of desperation, an urge to comfort the dying man. It had been nothing more than her attempt to ease Damon's passing, and he would not accept that. Her calm assertations that there had been nothing more behind her actions had not gotten through to him, and she was losing patience. She avoided him as much as possible, on the verge of demanding Bonnie research a spell to keep him out of the house.
So many things were bothering her, not the least of which was Elijah's betrayal, surprisingly. She was deeply disturbed, not so much about his betrayal, which she understood, in a distant corner of her mind; she was worried for his safety, in close proximity with Klaus. After all, they had feuded for, what, centuries, Elijah plotting to kill Klaus for most of that time? And at the drop of a hat they were allies? Elena didn't buy it one bit of the story she'd been told when she'd awoken from "dying".
Crossing to the window, she looked out at the night, wondering where Elijah was. No, Stefan. Why had Elijah come to her mind first?
She shook her head to clear out the uncomfortable thoughts clinging like cobwebs. She moved to her dresser, decided she could use a nice, mentally-clarifying walk. It was a Friday night, everyone would be in the more populated areas of the town tonight, she wouldn't need to worry about being spotted and fussed over...Pulling out a red hooded sweatshirt, she put it on over her cami, adding a leather jacket to guard against the chill of the autumn night. She slipped off her shorts, tugging on a pair of jeans and flicking her long hair back into place.
Creeping downstairs, Elena carefully avoided the creaking step on the staircase, pausing at the bottom and peering towards the living room, where Alaric lay on the couch, cradling a bottle of whiskey as he snored. Realizing he had to be more responsible, Alaric now saved his drinking for Friday nights, exclusively.
Elena smiled at his sleeping form, tiptoeing to the front door and edging outside. It was a crisp fall night, but it was refreshing to take a deep breath of the night air.
She decided to take a familiar path, one she would know even blindfolded. Walking would clear her mind, so she tucked her car keys and hands into her pockets, bracing her shoulders. A brisk wind whipped through the street, and she was still glad it wasn't a long walk to the cemetery.
As she passed a dim alley lit only by a feebly-glowing street lamp, Elena heard movement, and jerked her head to the side, her steps faltering. Catching a glimpse of a suit-clad form leaving the alley via the other end, she sped up, running a hand through her hair and taking a breath to steady herself. Probably just someone else on their way somewhere, like her.
As she crossed to the other side of the street, the wind sent a flurry of dead leaves skittering across the sidewalk, their brittle edges making small scraping noises against the pavement. Elena shivered, suddenly losing her determination to go to the cemetery. As she paused, a chill ran down as her spine, as she swore she heard her name called in a lightly-accented voice, carried along the wind. "Elena..."
The voice of he whom she considered a traitor rang through her ears, as faint as the voice had sounded. As weak as it had sounded. Pulling her hands from her pockets, Elena whipped around, her gaze scouring her immediate surroundings. Wary now, she took a few steps backward, letting out a garbled shriek as something grazed her back. Turning, she saw the gnarled branches of an overhanging tree swaying from the contact with her body. Nothing more. What had that voice been? Her imagination?
Looking down the sidewalk, Elena could see she was close to the cemetery. She took another quick glance around her, dashing the remaining few feet to the familiar, rusted gates, which hung open all day, every day. There was simply no need for security; the dangers of Mystic Falls lay in the activities of the living, or so most thought.
Grasping the aged, bronzed bars of one of the gates, Elena caught her breath, leaning her forehead against the cool metal and closing her eyes. When she opened them and raised her head, she found herself face-to-face with Elijah. He was wearing the same suit as the night he had betrayed them, and a somber, pleading expression. Elena shrieked, recoiling as he reached out a hand to her. A hand that looked...bloodied? As she backed away, she met his dull gaze, watching as he opened his mouth.
As the single word "help" emerged, Elena tripped, landing hard on the ground with a gasp. Looking up again in fear, Elena saw nothing. No one in sight. No sign Elijah had been there a moment ago.
She scrambled to her feet, dusting off her jeans and debating entering the cemetery at all. He'd been on that side of the gate...Gathering her courage, Elena raised her chin. She wasn't afraid of Elijah, no matter what he was up to. She felt he represented no threat to her...Even if devotion to his family required him betraying her. Clenching her fists, she passed through the gates stiffly, trying to be as quiet as possible as she traversed the worn gravel paths illuminated only by small lamps placed sporadically on either side.
When she reached her parents' graves, she gave a small sigh of relief, throwing herself down against the cold stone pillar of her mother's tombstone. All was quiet, no crickets chirping or owls hooting. She should have realized something was off, the air still and yet full of anticipation.
After a quiet twenty minutes spent in contemplation, and a mental rant to her parents, Elena rose with a little grimace; the cold was not being kind to her young limbs. She stomped her feet lightly, waving her arms to get some feeling back. Moving back to the footpath, her eyes roamed over a mausoleum against the edge of the cemetery, partially obscured by trees. She'd passed it plenty of times, visiting her parents' graves, and yet...Something about the old, cordoned-off building drew her tonight.
Elena frowned. Why should she want to visit a creepy, rundown tomb in the middle of the night? She'd visited enough tombs to last her a few lifetimes, and what she was doing was already macabre enough. As she stood staring, wind rustled the tree limbs overhead, and she again heard Elijah's voice. "Please..."
Brow furrowed more each passing second, Elena moved towards the building like one in a daze, feet moving automatically on the gravel and taking her to the steps of the supposedly-unused building. The small lights from the main path behind her slightly lit the facade of the mausoleum, and she could see a few discrepancies in what she'd heard about the abandonment of the "structurally-unsafe" place. The steps looked newly-swept, clear of leaves and debris, the doors were wiped clear of cobwebs...
Moving up the steps, Elena could only hope she'd be able to make her way safely through the building; she couldn't seem to stop herself entering. Gripping the cold handle of one of the doors, she pulled, surprised when it easily gave way under her feeble attempt.
Cautiously stepping inside, Elena was shocked to see she was in a small foyer, a set of stairs in front of her leading deeper underground. The staircase was lit by small torches, which suddenly sputtered in an unnatural breeze. Tears forming slightly in her eyes, she gathered what courage she had left, descending the stone stairs with hands cold and numb, hanging limpy at her sides as her feet led her further and further down.
After what seemed like forever, but had in reality been about ten steps she'd traversed, Elena found herself in the main vault of the mausoleum, gasping at the sight that met her eyes. A series of coffins, eight total, lined the edges of the room, each highly-polished and expensive-looking. The one immediately in front of her gleamed the brightest, and as she moved around it, she spotted a name marked in calligraphy upon the wood that made her blood run cold. "Elijah."
Was it occupied? Elena couldn't believe her eyes, moving quickly to the head of the coffin, placing her hands on the chilled wood. It seemed to pulse beneath her hands, reacting to her touch. This was insane, she decided, but so was everything in her life these days. Reaching for the ornate gold handle on the side of the casket, Elena pulled with all her might, gritting her teeth as the lid opened with resistance.
When at last the contents of the coffin were visible in the torchlight, Elena didn't know whether to be shocked or not. Elijah lay inside, his skin and veins tinted gray, looking very unpeacefully dead, if that were possible. The dagger that had passed through so many hands lay jutting out of his chest, his hands arranged on his chest like any other corpse. Elena only one thing in that moment, that she was disgusted, and without giving a thought to the repercussions, or the fact that there were other coffins in the room, lunged for the dagger, ripping it out with a passion she'd forgotten existed within her anymore. It came free with a grating noise, and she nearly gagged, knowing it was scraping against Elijah's bones. The thought brought tears to her eyes as she tossed the antique weapon to the side, the blade clattering loudly as it hit the wall.
Elena began to pace the room, absentmindedly studying the other coffins, not quite processing that she may have just turned the tide in the battle against Klaus. Some time passed as she circled the room, her thoughts running at a speed her mind couldn't quite match. When a rustling sound met her ears, she turned, unsurprised to see Elijah standing unsteadily, a hand bracing himself against the coffin he had inhabited for so long.
The intensity of his longing gaze was what shocked her, his eyes warming at the sight of her even as they adjusted to new life. When he spoke, his voice was rough, sounding strangled as it had after his last revival. "Elena. You're here."
Elena felt a good part of the burdens that had been weighing on her shoulders for the past few months lifted off, and couldn't understand why. She could only beam at the mausoleum's only other living inhabitant, even as she folded her arms and tried for a disgruntled pose. "Elijah. You have some explaining to do."
Well, there you have it. As close to a drabble as I think I can do. R&R, please? It is hard to communicate how much those things mean. Thanks. xoxo