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" It would be rude not to dance, you know. " +
Dreary. Living the life of a vampire is dreary; bleak. Like a Monday afternoon dragging on for hours, the clock seeming dead set on a singular number; those hours endless. Everyday felt the same. Every night felt the same. Vampirism is an undoubted curse; a succubus draining the second chance at fulfilling a life worth living.
Dakota felt bleak.
She sat still in a chair far in the corner of the Mikaelson Mansion, eyeing the oblivious guests who mingle carelessly; completely unaware of the horrors that took place just an hour prior. A family dilemma; one that had Dakota's head rumbling, words pounding at her skull that begged to be let in, to penetrate her unruly thoughts; scare her away.
She no longer trusts Rebekah, had she ever, but after finding out not too long after finishing up a much needed deed that the blonde Mikaelson had forcefully gone after Elena, surely leaving cuts and bruises on the fragile human, she no longer believed in a civil truce. Her shoulders straighten, ears perked, and lips downturn slightly at the mere sight of Rebekah, her guard remained unfazed. Although subtly frightened by the capabilities of an original vampire such as her future sister in law, Dakota would never waver. She would never give the Mikaelson the satisfaction of knowing the raven haired girl was afraid.
Posture poor, a glass of bourbon in hand, Dakota sighs heavily. She keeps an eye out for her brothers or Elena, no doubt in her mind the trio had been welcomed warmly by the original family. A nauseating pit forms in the depths of her core, twisting and turning, each deep breath like a punch to her stomach. Something isn't right. Had she not grown to trust her powers so much, the Salvatore would brush this intense feeling off as anxiety, something she had been struggling with before vampirism, but every slight twinge... every urge to upchuck her meal prior, she took to heart; something will go wrong.
Not too far away, Damon Salvatore walks slowly over to Carol Lockwood, handing the mayor a champagne glass with a small smile. "Hello Carol."
"Hello." The woman greets, clinking her glass against the Salvatore's.
"Hanging out with your new besties?" Damon retorts sarcastically, referring to the hosts of this grand ball.
"I'm the mayor, Damon." Starts the Lockwood, "When the oldest, deadliest, family of vampires moves into your town, you welcome them with a smile."
"Hmm, Well at least you know who you're borrowing that cup of sugar from." Murmurs the eldest Salvatore.
Carol sighs, "I'm trying to protect this town. They've assured me they want peace, and I've assured them that I'd enforce it."
Before Damon could counter with another derisive comment about his sister's future family, a new face joins the duo with a sly smirk. Kol Mikaelson grips the older woman's hand before placing a tender kiss to its posterior. "Mayor Lockwood. We haven't formally met. Kol Mikaelson. I hope your lovely town embraces us just as much as we plan to embrace it."
Damon, eyeing him warily, sticks out his hand for a neutral greeting. "Damon Salvatore. Have we met?" Upon Kol's blatant refusal of a returned kind gesture, the Mikaelson smirks, "I've met a lot of people. And you don't particularly stand out. Your sister on the other hand, I have had the pleasure of meeting." The younger original's eyes trail over his opposite, "now, she definitely stands out. A pretty face with a spectacular body. It'd seem she definitely got the looks out of the twin gene pool, hasn't she." And with a condensing chuckle, walks away.
