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*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･..･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*
After Kol's death, Azalea left New Orleans promptly. It just seemed easiest. To escape. At first, she had no idea where to go or what to do. She just drove. She drove for hours. It seemed there wasn't any place that didn't seem to remind her of her love in some way. Even going on a murder spree wouldn't help. That was basically half of their date nights through the years.
She'd received many calls, texts, and voicemails from Rebekah. Most went unanswered, as she knew that every notification would just be a plea for her to come back, that they would work through this together, that Kol would be back before she knew it. Though she cared for Rebekah, she couldn't handle constantly hearing about it. She only hoped that Bekah wouldn't resort to a tracking spell and drag her back to New Orleans.
In her long life, Azalea had barely ever lived on her own. For the century that she did, she wasn't aware of who she was missing. In leaving, the feeling was ever present. No Klaus, no Rebekah, no Elijah. Most importantly, no Kol. She tried so hard to shake that feeling. The piece of her that felt completely empty without him. It felt like losing a limb.
Azalea's constant reminder to herself was that she would learn to walk again. Something inside of her knew that wasn't true, though. That was the problem with loving someone so much. When you lose them, never in your life will you feel the same again.
She thought after the first time she lost him, it would be easy. She found that it was quite the opposite. Azalea De Luca had never felt more lost in her life. Vampires as old as her weren't given the chance to turn off their emotions anymore. It was supposed to be easier to handle the horrors of immortality. In Azalea's experience, that was not the case.
So what did she do to quell her overwhelming loss? Besides running from his family, she went home. Italian summers were always the best.
She hadn't been back to her home ever since she left. There was too much that she never wanted to face. Her brother's death. Her own death. Her mother's.
✿
Poland, 1172 A.D.
It was a night like any other. Everyone else was asleep, but Kol crept to Azalea's room in the middle of the night. Late nights were theirs. To talk, to sneak out and get into some trouble, to be intimate, to share secrets. Only this night, Kol happened to share the wrong one.
"Youwhat?" Azalea had never been angrier. They laid in bed, Kol looking a little shocked at his own words. How could he slip up this bad? He had never slipped up like that. Azalea scrambled out from under the covers, never taking her eyes off of Kol. "You motherfucker! You were the one that killed my mother?"
