Damon's navy ovoids gush around the inexorable and inky surroundings, scrutinizing each and every countenance and objects, though there weren't really many objects to examine besides the chair he was plastered to. Klaus's callous face was even gelid than usual. Throughout the whole time he had been present here. After Caroline's demise, well, he was definitely upset. That won't even be the word. The disconcerted assassin which was abstruse somewhere in his already lurid mind had been incited back to its frigid mold. Caroline had been the reason for him embalming those homicidal and authoritative craves. But since now Caroline had been buried about 10 feet under the ground, those lithe promises he made to her seemed to have confronted the same fate. And everyone Klaus pledged to Caroline would be secure were currently being hunted down. Like he was. And being tormented. The guy required something to load the agonizing puncture of blankness in his dreaded heart. So why not put use the old trends to use?

Nothing was equivalent ever since Elena died. Which was 5 years ago anyway. Tyler and her where the only ones clashing with a catastrophic meet with death whilst they were depleting off Silas. They all vowed to die trying, and those two literally did. At least it wasn't a complete dissipate. Tyler being rid caused Klaus and Caroline to be elicited towards each other, which was predictable. Both did have the hots for one another. But Elena passing away caused a gigantic torrent and revolution in his and his brother's life. Stefan concluded to flip his humanity switch and indulge in sanguine blood and alcohol and women and whatever he did during his dark ages to remove or condone the ache in it all. He didn't quite do the same though. Yes, he went back to being how he was before he collided with Elena. Detached, rhetorically nonchalant. But he didn't exactly claim a killing spree or so like his brother, he had a queer agenda of his own. But he actually got over Elena soon enough. He didn't even think it would be feasible, he even concluded to twist out the sliver circlet around his calloused finger caring the lapis lazuli and strut into sunlight at first. But Elena's face came swaying up to his gaze, and he knew she wouldn't want that. And some functional part of his then defected brain told him to respect it. But what did he have left? But then, that one person diverged everything…

'Damon.' Klaus's ample accented voice caused Damon to get clasped out of his profound pool of disturbing anticipations, enlightening his senses to undergo the anguish he was in. The spiked metal device puncturing through the mild flesh of his neck into some section of his neck he couldn't name.

'Klaus.' It was even an anguishing throb to utter a word, but he did anyway. 'Look, man, I know you're going through a rough time, but do you think killing everyone associated with Mystic Falls is the answer?'

'Rough time?' Klaus questioned with mock hilarity snaked around his voice. 'Do you have any idea how it is to watch your loved one die in front of you and you had nothing to do about it?'

Damon's chiseled brows escalated in incredulity or rather skepticism. Did he have no knowledge whom he was inquiring? His dry rims compressed out into a thin line whilst his icy disks actually took a moment to surf through the visages of Klaus's slaves. Katherine having the cure rammed down her throat was actually a huge advantage for Klaus. Doppelganger blood equals to production of hybrids. At least he wasn't all lonely.

'It's ironic, in a way. You not being able to do anything?' A scornful scoff bolted out. But he decided to add something 'respectful' before his raven tresses got sprightly slashed out. 'Did you forget whom you are asking?' Damon inquired mockingly. 'Both of my girlfriends died in front of me. Both apparently with same faces and I had nothing to do about it. But do you know what I did? I let go. Which you learn to do yourself.'

'I don't want to let go!' The volume of his voice amplified to a really excessive level, blaring through the rather serene atmosphere leading Damon to grant his cerulean orbs a roll. 'I want to kill everyone Caroline was ever attached to.'

'What good will that do to you?' Damon had audacity fortified with his words. 'Are you sure you don't need a mental doctor instead of killing?'

'I can't see them living or happy.' Klaus replied, derision was lucid in his tone, but the clarity in the answer was absent. Something hinted at Damon that Klaus himself didn't have the knowledge what amenity it would really bring him. His brain was surely dysfunctional now.

'So, Damon,' Klaus continued eluding the afflictive receptivity from before. 'We haven't really spoken in 5 years, but I have been keeping a track of you.'

'Stalker much?' Damon's usual pretentious smirk veered onto his anhydrous rims. Despite the fact he was in aching agony, he couldn't abolish his conceited penchants.

'You don't really leave behind a clean track, do you?' Klaus glided on as if Damon's previous words weren't acknowledged by his heightened hearing.

Damon tried to angle up his shoulders into a shrug, but every fragment of his shoulder blades were immobile with ache. 'What work of mine are you going to praise, Klaus?'

A wry chuckle frolicked up from the inmost profundity of Klaus's chest. 'Well, I don't think you'd mind making it more lucid to me about your rather weird assassinating agenda.'

'Depends on which you're talking about.' Damon replied. 'And 'weird'? I won't use that for any of my agendas. It's just insanely maniacal ideas.'

'However you describe it.' Klaus grant his mocha tinted ovals a slight roll. 'Some really innovative journalist must have put a name to your killing spree. 'Cinnamon Carnage.' I was speaking of that.'

Damon claimed a sharp intake of oxygen, an airy frown embodying on his forehead, which was ornamented with tiny beads of sweat. That.'

'Yes, that.' A sneer actualized on Klaus's lips. 'Go on.'

Damon finally managed to escalated his virile shoulders into an indifferent shrug. 'I like brunettes. I killed them. Brown is the color of cinnamon and I think you're not dumb enough to not know what 'Carnage' means.'

'5 each state.' Klaus stated.

'Ding ding ding.' Damon uttered with spurious zest in his tone. 'California, Texas, New York and where not. I give you less credit for how smart you actually are. My apologies.'

'Why did you do it, Damon?'Klaus questioned tentatively.

'I told you, I like brunettes.' Damon answered composedly. He couldn't rupture out the actual reason. It would display the vulnerability that had curled out and decayed in his icy heart a long time ago. He had no traces of that feeling anywhere hidden in him. But he still had agitations admitting. Even though why he motioned those actions might have been pretty evident.

'And here I thought each of your ideas were 'Insanely maniacal'. Turns out they are just dumb.'

Snickers and laughs and chuckles obfuscated the halcyon atmosphere, all from the imbecilic puppets of Klaus. He had no idea what he found more satirical. The hybrids actually estimating those words as comical or the frosty blood skidding in his veins galling up due to the hilarity of such a harassment.

'Fine, then, Klaus.' Damon unearthed his conceited demeanor just for one moment of lassitude. 'Why do you think I did it?'

'I think…' Klaus began. 'You did it to divert your heart and attention from the pain you were feeling after Elena died, but somehow, hurting yourself as well. I am no observer, well I am, but it's clear. Brown hair, petite physique, with the exception of the hue of the eyes. You might have been trying to remind yourself how Elena felt…' Klaus disentangled his lusty arms that were encased across the vast expanse of his chest whilst he took a strode towards Damon's hindered physique. 'To taste how her lips were. To remind yourself how her body felt against yours.' He went on and on, about the lushness and what not, but Damon concluded to zoom out on all of it. But he did grasp onto some of the astral sighs that slithered past the plush lips of the enchanted females present. Of course that would happen, Klaus reciting somewhat a romantic ballad or whatever in his ample accent. God knows what chicks dig in British accents.

'Look, man.' Damon ensued speaking, restraining Klaus from finishing whatever more whimsical sayings he had to utter. 'If you're trying to turn me on, it's really not working. Just doing the exact opposite. You should try this on my brother.'

Really, really muted laughs generated from around, causing a vein to ensue on Klaus's mild forehead. He derive a huge preservation of oxygen before tracing back his distance, to bestow the prior distance between him and Damon. 'Then tell me, Damon, a story. The most unique one in your little atrocious spree. Go ahead and share with us.'

'Just pick up a story book if you're in the mood for it, Klaus.' Damon answered rigidly.

Klaus's beige circlets compressed. He took a moment to process something before he elevated his chin into an canonical nod. Two figures streaked up on either sides of him. Before he could protest, an agile hand grasped onto on to his neck, another one clasped onto the obsidian tresses. Damon attempted swivel his hand out of the vervain laced material bound around his fists, but all he presented with was failure and ache.

The pair of robust hands began cant his head at a really noxious angle with tremendous force applied. His end was nearing, he could just allow his taut muscles to unlax. Just ease back and allow all the thoughts of his broad years glide past his eyes in one spark. But for some reason, he couldn't. He just wasn't able to.

He couldn't allow his versed soul to slide away without certifying one thing. That one person's safety. He wasn't even certain if she was still alive. Judging the last time he had caught a glance of her, he didn't know of the chances. It was ironic, that even in his expiring moments, her prospects could dash up. It had been 4 years. The feeling should have succumbed along with his humanity. But would she'd be secure if he died, right? Or would she'd be attenuated into this deranged abyss. He thought what he did back then was inane, yes, but he thought it was for her best. And his own. But why was this giving him second thoughts about her living?

He could feel the attaching bone of his neck with his anatomy splinter completely in one… Two… Three.. 'Wait!' Damon decided to blare out. 'You want a story? I'll give you a story!'

The pressure stopped exerting on his neck whilst the menials elevated their heads to scrutinize their monarch, waiting for what order he'd supply. Damon could feel rigidity and tensity materializing in the chamber. His own cerulean rings surfed along to Klaus's glacial façade, his heart thumping brutally against the interior of his chest.

Klaus just diminished his head a fraction. Damon wasn't sure what it was. A nod? Or what? But he just steeled himself. His lids streaking down shut whilst he braced himself for his end. He never attempted to fabricate a picture in his head of how his death might be. But now to process, this wasn't so bad. It'd be quick and less tormenting. But he had had enough anguish in the past few hours than he had in his whole existence.

Respite flushed through him like a rapid disease once the hands had lost contact with his skin. With a quick toss of breathe, Damon spiraled around his neck once before he halted, granting it moments to heal. 'Still want to hear?' Damon offered.

'Go on.' Klaus nodded.

'Sooooo.' Damon began rather infuriated. 'I met a girl during the Carnage. Fell in love. Spent a wonderful time. But in the end, I killed her. The End.'

'You killed her?' Damon couldn't differentiate if it was actual amusement in Klaus's voice or just apathy.

'Is it that hard to believe?' Damon scoffed airily.

'From what I've seen, it takes a lot to make you fall in love. Just ironic that you killed her.' Klaus shrugged.

'You misapplied by monstrosity.' Damon said. 'It was part of the Carnage and I figured I want no attachments.' Lies, Damon thought to himself. All lies. He did want attachments. He felt like being vulnerable and emotionally manifest for once in his life. He had the knowledge he could be, his heart was positioned in delicate, safe hands. With no one to fight for her, no one was there to make her have second thoughts about loving him. But then, everything averted…

But he did kill her. Well, he wasn't really certain if she died, but she couldn't have survived that. The picture was still grotesquely vivid. His jagged knife charging into her interior from the exterior of her flat stomach, creating a huge puncture there. He could have done it with his own virile hand, he didn't want the blood of her body on his hands. Literally. It still ran a tremor vibrated down his spine at the remembrance of the sight. Sanguine, cerise fluid gushing out of those lush barricades once the maximum impact of pain slapped through her then the lean frame receding before compacting with the ground.

Maybe he just didn't thrash his hand through the small expanse of her chest and just grasp it back with her heart in it. But how could have he gazed at that heart, the decayed, un-beating heart? The heart the once beat with full zest and vivacity, expanding out the light it contained? The heart that once gave his purpose, that once loved him. Or how could have he snapped that neck? With the delicate skin veiling the petite bones where he planted extolled kisses. Her whole anatomy belonged to him. Each and every fragment. But back then, it was for both of their melioration.

Maybe he left her bleeding out on that ground as he hoped someone would discover her and save her somehow. That he could convince himself that he got it overwith and could move on without his humanity. And even if she had managed to clasp onto a bit of her life to survive, he had made sure all knowledge of him was abolished.

'What was her name?' Klaus enquired intently.

A sigh waxed out of Damon's dry labia. 'Livavia. Like Lie-Vay-Vee-A.'

A wide smirk unfurl onto Klaus's adamant features, causing perplexity to imbue through all of Damon's psyche. Why the hell was the bastard leering like that?

'Seems like we got the right girl. Bring her in.' Dictum spiraled around his words as he blared out his command, leaving Damon's countenance bedazzled.

'You are getting sloppy with killing, aren't you, Damon?' The smirk remained plastered to Klaus's physiognomy, allowing Damon's pale skin to crawl. He didn't have to be a psychic to sense the radiating peril.

'There you are, love!' Joy seemed to possess Klaus's tone as one hybrid skidded in with her hand bound around the slim arm of another female. Saliva began to amass in Damon's mouth whilst his teal circlets dilated. He had no idea how to send the saliva down or how to prevent his heart from slashing out through his chest.

His still broadened circlets raked down the familiar form of the other female. That delish figure with extravagant curves and coy, long legs. Disorientation ornamented that angelic physiognomy with flaming leaden eyes. And that icy façade on the face, which signaled that her interiors were shuffling around abashing. This was a dream, had to be. As eerie as it was, he wasn't sure if he wanted to be clasped out of it.

'Livavia?' Damon's voice ruptured at the end. The call sent Livavia's head thrashing towards the sound. A frown inched down on her forehead. 'Damon?'