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001. Naughty Girls Get a Stake in the Heart!
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CÉCILE groans, rolling over in the silk sheets of a bed that isn't hers as sunlight peers through the cracks of the curtains. Being vampires and all, you'd think the Salvatore brothers would just compel themselves some good curtains, but apparently being over one hundred years old doesn't equate to having any kind of sense. I mean, she comes all this way to visit her good, old friends after just escaping a kidnapping in Italy, and they don't even have the decency to get her good curtains?! Go figure.
Not to mention the fact that, whilst she only had plans to visit briefly—a day or two, perhaps—after hearing about her old friend Lexi's brutal murder by Damon's hands, a friend she shared with Stefan, Cécile has now been entirely roped into Damon and Stefan's girl drama because they're both moronic idiots.
Speaking of the Salvatores and their poor hosting, just as shes about to fall back asleep, shes woken once again by voices that she recognise as belonging to Stefan, Damon and, to both Cécile's surprise and pleasure, Caroline—Stefan's girlfriend's bubbly, blond friend who Cécile has come to like rather a lot. If only Stefan were dating her, and not his ex-girlfriends döppleganger who Cécile is sure is only doomed to repeat the history of her ancestor, given the interactions shes witnessed between the girl and Damon in just the short time she's been visiting.
But, anyway. She supposes it really is none of her business, even if she has to witness both of her friends get their hearts blown to smithereens by the same face twice. It only took Damon, what, one-hundred and twenty or so odd years before he got over Katherine? It's perfectly survivable.
Sighing, Cécile vamp-speeds her way down the stairs, intruding on their conversation. If they wanted it to be private, then they should've gone elsewhere. "You assholes woke me up."
Damon rolls his eyes and Stefan gives her a small, fond smile as Cécile flops herself down next to Caroline, somehow making her actions look elegant even in bright pink Hello Kitty pyjama pants. "Hey, Care-bear," she greets, pausing upon seeing the panicked look in her eyes. "What's wrong?"
"Take a wild guess," Damon interrupts, gulping down a glass of Bourbourn that he hadn't been holding when Cécile had entered only a few short moments ago. He smacks his lips together, slamming the glass down on the table and gives an exaggerated, sarcastic smile.
Cécile all but groans. "Katherine."
"Katherine," Damon repeats, clenching his jaw. "She wants the moonstone, or she's gonna throw a tantrum and kill the whole town."
"Sounds fun," Cécile hums, a yawn escaping her lips.
Part of her doesn't understand what's so special about this stupid moonstone, but another part of her—a part she doesn't understand—tells her that it's important, that she knows it's important and she half wants to steal it for herself and lock it up somewhere safe. Obviously, that part of her is insane, a side-effect of being alive for roughly six-hundred years, considering, hey! It's literally just a stupid, boring, ugly, tacky-looking rock!
