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a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com) wrote in
taxonomites2011-07-17 09:07 pm
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024: The Saints Can't Help Me Now [Location: Hyperion Hotel / Accidental Visual]
While Drusilla slept on the silk sheets that Angel had promised her, the figure reflected in her window pane - a girl who was both like and unlike the vampire - said her prayers.
Her lips barely moved as she murmured her supplications up to heaven. They were secrets, her prayers. Secrets that weren't for the ears of anyone but the Lord. (It was strange, wasn't it? The girl gave her heart and her trust to the same deity who had, in another life, abandoned her to the clutches of the devil.) The rosary clutched in her pale hand was worn with use and with piety.
The Drusilla on the bed wore red. In the right light, it looked as if she was a corpse in a pool of fresh blood, stark against the snowy sheets.
The Drusilla in the glass wore a coarse nun's habit. In any light, she glowed with virtue.
It was the life that she could have lived. The person that she could have been. She rarely dreamed of such things - the pixies whispered of the future, not the futures that had never been able to come to pass - and, when the sudden sharpness of the reflection pierced her head, Drusilla woke with a start. For a moment, she gazed - wide eyed and unblinking - at the window.
"No."
She snatched up the lamp that stood on the table next to her new bed, throwing it without hesitation. The glass shattered and the girl disappeared before she'd had a chance to ask for forgiveness for the sins that her other self had committed.
"I'm not sorry," she snarled, addressing the broken window and the shadow that had stood there, "I'm not sorry."
Her lips barely moved as she murmured her supplications up to heaven. They were secrets, her prayers. Secrets that weren't for the ears of anyone but the Lord. (It was strange, wasn't it? The girl gave her heart and her trust to the same deity who had, in another life, abandoned her to the clutches of the devil.) The rosary clutched in her pale hand was worn with use and with piety.
The Drusilla on the bed wore red. In the right light, it looked as if she was a corpse in a pool of fresh blood, stark against the snowy sheets.
The Drusilla in the glass wore a coarse nun's habit. In any light, she glowed with virtue.
It was the life that she could have lived. The person that she could have been. She rarely dreamed of such things - the pixies whispered of the future, not the futures that had never been able to come to pass - and, when the sudden sharpness of the reflection pierced her head, Drusilla woke with a start. For a moment, she gazed - wide eyed and unblinking - at the window.
"No."
She snatched up the lamp that stood on the table next to her new bed, throwing it without hesitation. The glass shattered and the girl disappeared before she'd had a chance to ask for forgiveness for the sins that her other self had committed.
"I'm not sorry," she snarled, addressing the broken window and the shadow that had stood there, "I'm not sorry."
[Private]
"Touché," Katherine smiled wryly, inclining her head a little in acknowledgement. It was useless to try to fool Drusilla.
Her kind of vampires were much like humans in their ability to feel emotions; in fact, they felt them even more keenly. Everything became more amplified after turning and feelings were no exception. But there was also a mental switch to turn off emotions and morality and to let the predator right beneath the surface take full reign. But Katherine had spent her entire life as an undead from the moment she'd turned to run from those who were even older and stronger than her, the Original vampires of her world. She needed the steadiness of a clear head to aid her in running and hiding, in surviving, not one that was only concerned with bloodlust. Hope of freedom was a constant companion of hers.
"Perhaps I still have something left to learn, then."
[Private]
"Read the stars," she suggested, "They forgot how to lie a long time ago."
But she had a feeling that Katherine would try to change what she saw if she really didn't like it. That wasn't how it worked. That only paved the way to that future.
[Private]
Drusilla was right, as usual. Katherine refused to believe anything was preordained. The odds were always stacked against her, but she was first and foremost a fighter. A survivor. Self-preservation outweighed all her other characteristics; she would fight fang and nail against anything trying to drag her down. She believed in making her own luck, and determining her own future. She had to. If she didn't, then she might as well give up - and Katherine Pierce never gave up.
[Private]
She tilted her head, her hair an ebony waterfall that she longed for someone to drown in.
"Do you trust yourself?"
[Private]
"I trust only myself." Over five centuries on the run had made her distrustful to a fault. She'd started to trust Stefan during the past few months, which is a mistake - little does Katherine know that his recent romantic involvement with her is in large part simply a ploy to subtly extract information out of her that she wouldn't normally divulge. Even someone as old and experienced as her could still be fooled.
[Private]
"You must be lonely."
It was a statement rather than a question. Drusilla was mad, but she trusted. She trusted her version of the Slayer and the Angel Beast and her ersatz family. She wasn't alone.
[Private]
Regrouping, Katherine responded with an air of indifference. "Good thing I enjoy my own company."
[Private]
"You have me," she offered, simply.
[Private]
Drusilla's offer made Katherine smile. "I appreciate that. We'll look after each other in this alien prison, us girls."
Because Drusilla was one of the very few people in Taxon for whom Katherine would lend a helping hand if ever needed.
[Private]
She was satisfied with Katherine's answering smile. This time, she had listened.
"We should have another party soon."
A sleepover, with dolls and stories in the darkness and sweetmeats for dinner.
[Private]
[Private]