i ran from my enemies for 500 years, & then one day, i stopped. so call it PRIDE or VANITY, but after the life that i've led, i refuse to driftoff into the sunset.
rebekah mikaelson wasn’t known for arriving with gifts for the host, even when she turned up COMPLETELY unannounced and without invitation. over the months she had however picked up small bits and pieces from the bennett witch, including the fact that their war wasn’t going to be won with blanket hostility. instead, she had to be charming, cunning, & p e r s u a s i v e( even if rebekah preferred to boarder deceitful ). after all, if klaus wasn’t going to play fairly then by what code should they?
rumours the blonde knew better than to DISMISS entirely lead her to the house, a bottle of wine in hand — a peace offering ( or war). for as high as katherine pierce was in the list of people rebekah DIDN’T want to work with, she didn’t want to admit that she was higher on the list of people she didn’t particularly want to work against. just as she didn't want to admit that she ESPECIALLY didn’t want klaus working his way into blackmailing her onto his side, and offering her a place of t h e i r s had been entirely rebekah’s idea.
she entered katherine’s house without invitation; a self proclaimed queen in HER kingdom, she asked for nought any more. the world was to be exactly how they wanted it, starting with new orleans. though she found no immediate life, a cabinet caught her attention, extracting from it two wine glasses to bring along on her hunt. if social niceties expected her to bring a drink, she was at LEAST going to indulge in it herself. although the same social niceties suggested the POLITE thing to do when a door was left slightly ajar was to knock and await a reply, rebekah let herself into the room without warning. instead she cast a sweeping glance around the room and a show of holding up the bottle as she drew the attention to herself.
❝ SO you are back… good, you’re just in time to join the war. ❞
tragedy etched a mark upon her skin that could never be scrubbed clean, never to be forgotten & from it bore the monstrosity of survival. such supposed crimes of a burdened heart, faithless, one who laughed quite heartily at the thought of a greater power deemed her worthy of a cell in depths of hell. but of course a cell would soon grow to become a throne, humanity sacrificed to join legions, born from the accursed flesh of Lilith to rise once more. & what a place to begin her revival tour than the very ‘kingdom’ of the one who reveled in her demise.
but it was rebellion & resistance that surrounded her, all that a demon would thrive in. well, in a pretty little co-ed body or some comatose ballerina. it wasn’t the form of a duplicate spawned from her used-to-be ancestor. souls were so easily stolen, bargained, marked as her own when tempted with a pretty face. & it was true that blondes had so much more fun. viridian irises admired the reflection in oblong, full length glass, slipping into dress after new designer dress, squeezing into skin tight jeans & ensuring every piece of lingerie made her irresistible to the dumber sex.
creaks in the aged floorboards would bring the impromptu fashion show to an end, new eyes rolling at the sound of the most nauseating voice, bile inching up her throat. her groan was hardly stifled for sake of appearances, knowing that her preparation for the looming dinner party would be thwarted.
❛ —- in the flesh. ❜
& with a graceful swipe of her hand, her wardrobe tossed astray found order, settling for an adorable little white number for the sake of irony.
❛ & i can cause a little bloodshed by myself. thanks. ❜
