Davina Claire (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fantoche) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entrancelogs2014-10-13 06:44 pm
fantoche) wrote in entrancelogs2014-10-13 06:44 pm
[semi-open] I was looking for a breath of a life
Who: Davina Claire + YOU!!!! (Minus the thing closed to Rebekah Mikaelson)
Where: Closed - the garden, Open - the roof
When: October 13th afternoon into late evening
Rating: PG-13/R-ish - mentions of blood, death, general angsty angst - will update as needed.
Summary: Davina reviving in Wonderland and coping with things...
The Story:
CLOSED TO REBEKAH:
She lets out a small groan as she moves, the air chilled against her damp skin. She remembers a flash of pain and then darkness. A cold, unwelcoming darkness. The Ancestors had been so angry with her, calling her actions a betrayal to the coven. The coven that betrayed her first.
She hadn't asked to be lied to, almost killed, and then hunted. She hadn't asked for her own mother to deceive her - offer her up to have her throat slit for the betterment of the coven. For the enrichment of their own powers with no guarantee of their return from death. While the choices she'd made after her rescue hadn't exactly been positive, they'd been hers. Or at least that's what she kept telling herself. That she hadn't been a puppet for Marcel - a weapon he could load with just enough ammunition to make her dangerous.
There was so much more to it than the Ancestors could possibly understand. And yet, they'd seen fit to punish her rather than the elders for what happened. Threatened to take away her magic. Punish her if she acted out against the coven again. It wasn't an empty threat, that much was sure. It had left her shaking, everything so uncertain.
She gasps, shooting upright in the bed of flowers, eyes wild with panic. They dart around looking for something familiar - anything to give her a location. Tell her she was at home - that this wasn't just another way of the Ancestors punishing her. She pushes herself to an upright position, arms wrapping around her midsection as damp hair clings to her face. Tears begin to freely flow as she realizes she's not home - that the revival hadn't worked.
"Marcel? Marcel - where are you?"
When there's no response other than a soft breeze, she tests her magic a little by reaching out - trying to find him. After a moment, it's clear he's not here - so she does the only other thing she can think of... She screams.
OPEN:
She needed air - opting to go up rather than out. After 8 months in an attic, it was almost natural to want to go to the highest point - it almost seemed safer even if it wasn't true. She needed to think, clear her head and get out of her room. A room that reminded her too much of everything at home. Of what she'd lost thanks to Klaus.
She didn't want to forget - wouldn't forget - taking the violin that had appeared in her room and a blanket with her as she climbed the stairs to the roof.
She settles in towards an edge, watching quietly as her fingers toy with the violin in her lap - a small sound escaping from the instrument occasionally when her fingers brush the strings. It doesn't take her long to get lost in thought, grateful for the darkness as a mask for the few tears that slip out.
There had to be a way home. She couldn't give up - not yet.
[ooc: If you'd rather run into her somewhere other than the roof, she will have had to travel from the 2nd floor up, with a stop to the kitchen on her way back down before heading back to her room. Feel free to throw up a top level somewhere else if you so choose. Also no preference on prose or action - your pick.
Bonus! As a general note, feel free to have heard the scream in the garden - especially if your character is supernatural. Also people are welcome to notice the small touch of magic from when she reached out in search of Marcel.]
Where: Closed - the garden, Open - the roof
When: October 13th afternoon into late evening
Rating: PG-13/R-ish - mentions of blood, death, general angsty angst - will update as needed.
Summary: Davina reviving in Wonderland and coping with things...
The Story:
CLOSED TO REBEKAH:
She lets out a small groan as she moves, the air chilled against her damp skin. She remembers a flash of pain and then darkness. A cold, unwelcoming darkness. The Ancestors had been so angry with her, calling her actions a betrayal to the coven. The coven that betrayed her first.
She hadn't asked to be lied to, almost killed, and then hunted. She hadn't asked for her own mother to deceive her - offer her up to have her throat slit for the betterment of the coven. For the enrichment of their own powers with no guarantee of their return from death. While the choices she'd made after her rescue hadn't exactly been positive, they'd been hers. Or at least that's what she kept telling herself. That she hadn't been a puppet for Marcel - a weapon he could load with just enough ammunition to make her dangerous.
There was so much more to it than the Ancestors could possibly understand. And yet, they'd seen fit to punish her rather than the elders for what happened. Threatened to take away her magic. Punish her if she acted out against the coven again. It wasn't an empty threat, that much was sure. It had left her shaking, everything so uncertain.
She gasps, shooting upright in the bed of flowers, eyes wild with panic. They dart around looking for something familiar - anything to give her a location. Tell her she was at home - that this wasn't just another way of the Ancestors punishing her. She pushes herself to an upright position, arms wrapping around her midsection as damp hair clings to her face. Tears begin to freely flow as she realizes she's not home - that the revival hadn't worked.
"Marcel? Marcel - where are you?"
When there's no response other than a soft breeze, she tests her magic a little by reaching out - trying to find him. After a moment, it's clear he's not here - so she does the only other thing she can think of... She screams.
OPEN:
She needed air - opting to go up rather than out. After 8 months in an attic, it was almost natural to want to go to the highest point - it almost seemed safer even if it wasn't true. She needed to think, clear her head and get out of her room. A room that reminded her too much of everything at home. Of what she'd lost thanks to Klaus.
She didn't want to forget - wouldn't forget - taking the violin that had appeared in her room and a blanket with her as she climbed the stairs to the roof.
She settles in towards an edge, watching quietly as her fingers toy with the violin in her lap - a small sound escaping from the instrument occasionally when her fingers brush the strings. It doesn't take her long to get lost in thought, grateful for the darkness as a mask for the few tears that slip out.
There had to be a way home. She couldn't give up - not yet.
[ooc: If you'd rather run into her somewhere other than the roof, she will have had to travel from the 2nd floor up, with a stop to the kitchen on her way back down before heading back to her room. Feel free to throw up a top level somewhere else if you so choose. Also no preference on prose or action - your pick.
Bonus! As a general note, feel free to have heard the scream in the garden - especially if your character is supernatural. Also people are welcome to notice the small touch of magic from when she reached out in search of Marcel.]
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"What's it like here?" There had to be things that Rebekah hadn't covered - preferring to get a second opinion just to be safe.
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"It's not bad here," he says, answering her question. "I mean, I'm sure there are worse places you could be stuck. I've been stuck in worse places. The closets give you anything you could want or need, and most of the people here are friendly and interesting. The only thing is the events. Every other week or so this place likes to throw something at us from one of our worlds. Sometimes it throws us in an alternate world with no memory of who we were. Or it could take our powers, or make us sing spontaneously. It threw us back into the old west once and we had to travel to Oregon." Not his favorite event.
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While she was here, though, it wouldn't hurt to try and branch out from the old ones - make some new associations, possibly even new friends. Although she was going to be careful with that one in case Klaus decided to repeat history.
"Has anyone ever escaped?" There's a pause as she debates her second question. "What kind of music do you like?"
Smooth.
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He raises his eyebrow at her second question, odd thing to ask but at the same time not. "I like, well I usually go for a lot of indie stuff, I'm from New York City so it's easy to go find some really good music that hasn't really hit the airwaves yet. I guess I also like some top 40 stuff too, depending on the artist."
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"Do you ever listen to house music?" She's definitely not interviewing him for the position of a new sort of bestie. Definitely. "Sorry... You just... You remind me of someone I know."
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There's a beat as she recalls something he said, giving him a bit of a look. "You guys really got thrown into the old west?"
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"Yeah, I think they were trying to teach us about westward expansion. It sucked."
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"No, I wouldn't wish this on him. I don't really think the Old West would have suited him." Or her for that matter. "I feel like there's easier ways to teach people about expansion."