Elena couldn't see anything past her nose. She couldn't see what she was walking on, what she was walking by, or who she was walking to. But she did know who she wanted to find. The dark should've been scary to her, should've induced panic, or hallucinations, but instead, she welcomed it like a childhood friend. She felt it's softness like a blanket, enveloping her, obscuring everything. She lifted her hand to drag it along the wall, feeling something very soft and downy, but moist, filling the air with a pungent scent. She felt her bare feet encountering something thick and slick, but didn't think twice about it. She was all anticipation, like a coiled spring, ready to feel hand on her, hoping they belonged to the one she wanted, to the one she needed. A primal need took over her, and she felt her lips pull back over her teeth. If she hadn't been so anxious to get to where she was going, she would have gotten in pounce position. But she was, so she collected herself, instead smiling at the nothingness of the place she was walking through. There was a faint buzzing in her ears, then the music. The music she had become so accustomed to, blending into something else, blending into a clear voice, singing about the beast howling in her veins. How appropriate, she thought, smiling yet again as she emerged into light, embracing her new surroundings, loving how as she walked in every eye was set on her. Then she saw him. Damon. His head swiveled, his eyes widened as if she had said his name out loud. Elena. His words rang clear in her head, and she exhaled, not realizing she'd been holding her breath until she'd finally heard his voice. She saw him step through the crowd, saw every individual making room for him, spreading, so that he had a clear route from where he'd been to her. When he stood in front of her, all quieted. Her eyes swept over him, her lashes fluttering over him like little flying butterflies, before they finally rested on his eyes. The most vibrant blue she'd ever seen, the most beautiful ocean. One could drown in those eyes. He took her hand, leading her to doorway, and she glanced at the crowd. Bonnie, Caroline, the Originals, Matt, Jeremy, Alaric, Stefan, Katherine, and Jenna were among them. Elena was confused. She questioned for the first time since she'd been here what was going on, where they were. She was suddenly wary, not sure whether she could trust the people here. She glanced down at herself. Her dress was floor length, closely fitted, silk, and such a light pink that it could be mistaken as white. A heel peeked out from the bottom. But that's not right, she thought, I was barefoot just a second ago. She watched Damon's dark hair move slightly against his ear, curling around the nape of his neck. He pushed the door open, held it for her before entering behind her. She heard the door close with a light snick before she heard him speak.
"What are you doing here?" He walked around her, eyeing her up and down before sitting on the edge of the table. Elena took the time to examine the room he'd brought her to. There was a bed in the far left corner, windows facing it, a large writing table with parchment and several black leather bound books with black, small scrawl. It was very dark, the windows seeming to reflect images from outside. Tombstones were shown, large trees, the black of night with the full moon. She turned her gaze back to his.
"I could ask you the same thing." His gaze darkened, and he put his hand on her neck, right where her pulse should be. She could feel the pounding of it, amplified by Damon's hand pushing slightly. Her eyes closed just as his did, and before a minute had passed, his heart beats matched hers. Something about that seemed wrong, something about that seemed impossible… but she never got the chance to say that outloud. Damon's lips were immediately on hers, the pressure ensuring that hers would be swollen within seconds. She tasted blood, not sure whether it was hers or his, thinking for sure she would die from the roughness or from the pleasure, knowing a person could not feel so much at once without exploding, knowing that a person's tolerance for pain and pleasure cannot merge without causing some harm. I can't take this, Elena thought, and if I can, I won't last long after it's over. Her hands wound their way into his hair and he cried out against her mouth as…
"Elena!" She jerked awake at the sound of her name, her head disconnecting from her textbook. She was positioned oddly on the wooden chair in her living room, as if she'd tried to move off of it. She raised her eyes to the person in front of her, scared of the dream, of the direction it had taken.
"Please tell me you didn't just see that, too." Damon looked shaken.
"I wish I could, but that would be lying." Elena looked down at her homework, almost completed, then continued her work, not thinking about the state her hair must be in or how freaked out she was. She thought these things had gone away already, that they wouldn't show up anymore. It had been so nice, not having to worry about this stuff. She remembered the ball last night, she remembered leaving early because she'd been tired of the Mikaelson's, of Stefan. She sighed. Well, at least I finished the calculus stuff. She turned to her other work, to the essay she had to do on classic literature. She'd picked A Tale of Two Cities because she hadn't read it before, and it gave her a good excuse to. She picked up the book, excited about losing herself in it so she could at least momentarily forget about how messed up and weird everything had gotten yet again.