xiii. sunlight

1K 65 9
                                    

from the dining table!

❝ from the dining table! ❞

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

·° 。: ✰ : ·° 。


THE MORNING SUN CAME quick and early, which wasn't surprising given how late she'd went to bed. Though it felt like minutes, she and Nik were on that terrace for hours.

Her heart was beating so fast that there was a minute she thought it endangered her life. A distraction was the solution to divert her mind from thoughts of him.

So, the Monet spent the rest of her evening (after what happened on the terrace, at least) talking to her family on the phone. A conversation with them was long overdue, anyway. She was happy they were having an excellent time settling in and rediscovering France, but was sad she wasn't with them. 

Afterwards, Rosalie found herself staring at the ceiling of the four-poster bed and twiddling with the sun pendant, yet again. The piece of jewellery brought her so much comfort and solace in times of anxiety, but knowing who it was from...

It was his words on that letter. 

It was his last name.

Mikaelson.

The 'M' on the back of the sun stood for Mikaelson, she realized. Rosalie thought she probably should feel offended, as it could imply he owned her; but she never felt that way. After months of knowing him, it made her feel more connected to him and his family.

The kiss kept replaying in her mind. Every look, every touch, every kiss. She'd been the one to pull away, saying a soft 'good night' with a shy smile just before she slipped back to the bedroom. He just watched her, smiling back, looking a bit dazed himself.

Rosalie was perpetually giddy that she barely got a wink of sleep. It was a cycle of thinking about him and trying to find a distraction.

Attempting to sleep was futile, so the Monet paced back and forth within the bedroom walls. She walked over to one of the two doors in the room, only realising she hadn't explored the room yet.

Peeking through the crack of the door, the brunette found a bathroom her mother would kill to have.

White and grey marble was everywhere, decorated with streaks of gold she was sure to be authentic. On one side was a shower with clear walls, and an enormous bathtub on another. The towels and toiletries on a wooden cabinet were perfectly organised, it made her heart sing.

Entering further, she saw herself reflected by the mirror on her side, with a pearly white sink below it. The table it was on looked like it was made of mahogany, similar to the cabinet.

She peeked through the drawer under it, finding a variety of things: unused toothbrushes, tubes of toothpaste, soap and shampoo both lavender-scented, some razors, and most notably: men's shaving cream.

DREAMERS,   niklaus mikaelsonWhere stories live. Discover now