Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
· ° 。: ✰ : ·° 。
BLACK FADED INTO blinding white, like the sky clears after a thunderstorm. The darkness she'd been immersed in slowly cleared away in a manner that strangely left her feeling chilly. It had been a welcome blanket of warmth in the time she spent in the wasteland of her dreams.
The absence of light, the chill that came with it, and the hushed whispers of detatched voices were all she knew. It wasn't just a place, she believed, it was simply a feeling of weightlessness that made her feel calm and untouchable.
For the first time in months, she felt powerful.
And now that it was being ripped away...
Rosalie found herself clawing desperately for it, wanting nothing more than to remain in that dim area of peace and solitude. It was a slow realization that was difficult to explain, but she felt herself melding with her physical body.
The stitching of soul to flesh, the marriage of reality and illusion. It was falling from heaven and rising from hell. Somehow, Rosalie knew she was back in the mortal world.
Thirst. It was the first thing she thought of, throat so dry she couldn't even think of anything else. Then, she wondered where she was. Slowly, Rosalie's eyes fluttered open, something that sucked the air from Rebekah's lungs.
Gone were the molten gold of her irises, in its place was a shade of brown that was light enough to see streaks of gold and amber at the touch of light.
It was a big change in her appearance, but it didn't mean it suited her any less. She still had the same pale skin and chestnut hair, a combination of features that was hauntingly beautiful.
"Rosalie," a gentle, feminine voice called her. When her hazy gaze focused, she was met with the concerned face of Rebekah Mikaelson. "How are you feeling?" The blonde inquired, keeping her voice soft.
Confused was the first she feltㅡwhy was Rebekah looking at her that way?
"Thirsty."
A low groan escaped her when she tried to sit up, her body aching all over. Everything somehow felt tender, as though she was bruised everywhere there was skin. There was a moment she wondered if she got in another accident.
Rebekah immediately rushed to assist her, and Rosalie was hit with a sweet scent that had her dizzy. She couldn't pinpoint what it was, but it was intoxicating in a way that made her want to bathe in the fragrance.
The Monet stared at her, eyes flashing for the briefest of moments at the sight of the pulse in her neck. She actually saw how it jumped. Rosalie wanted to sink her teeth into it. To tear her arteries open and feast on the blood flowing through them. The scent and taste of blood was vivid in her mind, she could practically feel the satisfying hum that was related to death. The mental image of doing it was so real, so tangible in her mind that Rebekah had to call her name three times to get her attention.
