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(𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗢𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹𝘀; 1x5)
..••°°°°••..
"Chocolate strawberries for breakfast?" Rebekah raised a brow at the supposed human who plopped down giddily on the sofa, licking her lips, staring longingly at the plate in her hand.
"Yes. What of it?" Emery snaps defensively.
"Not overly healthy," Rebekah comments.
"It's fruit with carbs―a balanced dish." Emery offers proudly, lifting her gaze to meet Rebekah's eyes, only to notice the deadpan expression on the blonde's features. She sighs, "Leave me be, Rebekah."
"We both know Nik's going to bitch about it."
Emery scoffs. "Well, Niklaus isn't the one carrying a fetus that insists on compulsive cravings, so therefore he has very little say over my eating choices." The sorceress almost moans as the sweet flavour bursts on her tongue. "Also, I doubt chocolate strawberries will disturb a baby hybrid's developmental system."
Rebekah nods, seemingly realizing that she wouldn't be able to change the raven-haired woman's mind. Emery hopes that all the Original's will pick up on that quickly. "A comfort food for you, then. Given how much I've seen you eat them."
Emery stares down at the chocolate strawberries; they're absolutely drenched in a mix of milk and white chocolate, but she's also made them pretty with little designs in dark chocolate, one of which is a pair of wings. It strikes her like a sword through the gut, and tall castle walls and the light chattering of nobles surround her. The ghost of a hand at the base of her back murmurs sweet nothings in her ear before a hand presents a chocolate strawberry with a pair of wings, and she smiles giddily, brown eyes staring down at her with adoration before the sweet taste slathers her tongue. It sours as she looks back up, and then there's just pain. Betrayal. Death.
Then, the sun beams down on her, and those brown eyes disappear, replaced by two sets of blues. The sky. The ocean.
The wound stitches itself back up, and those insignificant voices drown out―the golden light wraps itself around her. A place in the mountains, a field or two, surrounded by red and blue flowers on either side, which brush against her fingertips wash away all that blood. Emery's never told anyone; she tells Rebekah, "My thirteenth birthday, my dads took me up in the mountains. The view was―" Emery sucks in a breath. "something else entirely. I painted it years later. The strawberries were scarce then, and we didn't have chocolate and goddess, were we tired, but um―it was just everything."
"That sounds nice. Human." Rebekah says, her eyes filled with reminiscence of the moments she and her brothers had shared, which she cherished on their namedays as humans. The last one was Henrik's thirteenth nameday. Rebekah pauses. "Dads?"
