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There were countless spectacular ways Rory imagined to reawaken after dying such a tragic death.
Resurrection should call for a grand event as the books and shows and movies will tell you.
True Love's kiss.
Dramatic gasping in every molecule of air in the room.
Tearful, sobbing reunions.
A burst of white light filling the room.
But in the end, Rory simply cracked an eye open, glaring at the ray of sun hitting her face.
It was all quite underwhelming.
The first thing she registered was:
"I'm fucking starving."
Well, dying will do that to you, she thought to herself, her hands ghosting over her abdomen, which was no longer gaping halfway open.
The healing process had done it's magic, but it didn't take away the soreness. She had been changed into the white dress she had laid out to wear for Klaus and her's secret wedding while she was dead. How ironic. She lifted the fabric above her waist to see the damage with her own eyes. A web of silvery-white lines, slightly puckering, were all that remained of her unconventional and severelyunhygienic C-section. Her stomach remained distended, but empty, leaving just skin and fat.
Realizing she was in her former bedroom—the suite Klaus had given her before they had inevitably given into their love for one another—she dug into her nightstand drawer.
Yes, her stash of cravings remained untouched (some vampires were too nosy and too unpredictable.) Rory scarfed down an entire bag of Takis and a few mega-stuffed Oreos to satiate the gnawing burn in her stomach. She also found an apple juice box to accompany her first meal back on the living plane.
Her basest need met, she then grew keenly aware of a few things aside from her still beating heart and human body. Or rather, angelic body. Her senses were on hyperdrive, but not to the intense extremes of what she expected werewolves or vampires to have. There was no sudden blood cravings or uncontrollable anger. In fact, she had a lot of control over everything. She was just the same as she had always been—Rory, albeit more refined.
Rory had been one of the nephilim this whole time, so of course she wouldn't feel too differently.
Somehow, she knew it had only been a few hours since she had passed. Okay, and also the fact that her flat screen TV on top of the dresser displayed the time and date.
Distinctive arguing in the hallway was muffled by the closed door. Hayley's sharp voice ricocheted over her father's demands clashing with her mother's authority. A deeper accented tone barging in every so often alarmed Rory since Mikael was definitely not supposed to be alive anymore. She didn't have time to beat his ass again.
