DREAMERS, niklaus mikaelson

ix. casket girls

❝ truths be told! ❞

·° 。: ✰ : ·° 。

THE FINE GRAINS OF TIME slipped through her fingers as she wandered the vast space of her mind. Wandering, as one might know, was an entirely different matter from drowning. Rosalie was only slightly overwhelmed by the information she was presented with at the Mikaelson mansion. Maybe it was because she'd been spending so much time with vampiresㅡshe was slowly becoming desensitized to the weird situations that went on in the supernatural world. Kol appeared in the boutique they were shopping at, escorting her and Willow, while Rebekah had taken the dresses they bought back to her apartment.

The house was surprisingly void of other Originals when they entered. The short, raven-haired woman called Persephone wasn't around, and neither was Elijah. Even, he wasn't there. Rosalie tried to avoid thinking about how that made her stomach drop.

Ridiculous, honestly.

Rebekah came shortly after, and with that, she and Kol started to discuss what they had stumbled upon: the death of Sophie, the case of the book she discovered, and how none of them had any helpful information or leads. Basically, they were back to zero.

The Mikaelson siblings had a downcast look the entire time they talked to her, and despite the startling amount of bad news, the Monet genuinely felt touched they cared so much. It made her think that trusting them wouldn't be so badㅡthey had centuries worth of friendship after all, as Rebekah had said.

At the moment, she was about to explore Marcel's house, as she hadn't had the chance to before. She walked by her friend, chattering about the upcoming festival.

They neared the compound, which reminded Rosalie of a historical site. It covered a large amount of land, the brick barriers looking as though it had been there for decades. However, before they could walk further inside, there was a huge emblem carved into the wall that caught her attention.

A dragon below a cursive letter M.

Rosalie frozeㅡshe would recognize that typography anywhere. After all, it's been around her neck for the past few months, a landmark of comfort. Not wanting to be hasty with her assumption, she took a closer look. The way the letter curved in all the same places only confirmed her suspicion.

Whoever gave her the necklace was the same person who had that emblem made.

"Everything alright?" Marcel called out, glancing back at her to find the Monet staring at the wall. She was so centered on the letter that she blocked out his footsteps as he walked back to her side.

Rosalie gulped, her gaze on the crest unrelenting. "That looks like my necklace," her voice was hushed, stunned, "Did you give this to me? Why didn't you say so?"

The brunette came to understand that there were a lot of things that were hidden from her. Alaska had asked their friends to keep her in the dark, maintaining her unawareness. It was both hurtful and touching that they wanted to keep her from the supernatural world. Sometimes she thought it was for the best if they just kept it that way. Sometimes, she even found herself longing for it.