Her Majesty // Mikaelson

19 Storm

The image is from SPN and since the plot line of the Mark of Cain was inspired by the show, I thought it'd be a good visual aid for the Mark. The song attached is Game Of Survival by Ruelle. I know, another Ruelle song ;)

I look at my hands. My gold ring seemed painted red. It was slick with liquid. Red, dark liquid. It dripped from my fingers. My hands were shaking. My ring and middle finger tapping each other lightly.

I couldn't feel it. My new spring white dress was barely beautiful anymore. The innocence had been stripped with it as the red stained it. My coat was half torn off me, and my left sleeve was missing. The straps on my matching wedges were all but falling off. I had kicked one off in rage; it got in my way, and that was it's punishment.

My red curls were damp with the light rain that hit the cement and bounced upwards off the already growing puddles. It had started raining after the mayhem erupted. The water now ran red. Not just the color of blood, but the smell. The look. The texture.

Because it all, was blood.

The stone crypts of the cemetery we're covered in the rich iron smelling liquid. The bodies scattered around the alter where I sat were those of witches. Loyal to Vincent, whom I lost sights of when I killed his pretty girlfriend.

I look around at the black coats on the bodies around me. There were some who wore things casual like they'd come from work to meet here. Or they were grocery shopping, and Vincent sent a message to them.

Either way, wherever they had been, they wouldn't be returning. My icy blue eyes were the only thing recognizable about me.

My sword wound had reopened, at least that's what I thought at first. But I realized quickly it was just a wooden stake, stabbed into my still-sore shoulder. I pull it out, dropping it onto the cement next to my feet, one bare, one with the broken wedge.

The stairs I sat on grew more wet with each passing minute. The rain soaked into my hair, dripped down my face and my chin. It dampened my dress, through my ripped coat. As though trying to rub out the crimson stains.

There wasn't fear, or sadness. I couldn't feel anything except the slight burn on my neck were more stars had surely appeared. This time I felt it. With each stopped heart did my strength magnify.

I guess I did feel something. Unstoppable. I rose my shaking hand up, touching the dark red in the chest of my dress. Where a hole was. A witch had pulled my heart out, with their magic. And I didn't even flinch. Now, my skin beneath was healed.

My heart beat out strongly, and that's when terror sweeps in. Slowly, like a light blanket. Terror of myself.

They screamed. They enchanted, threw me at the stone gravestones in the cemetery. It made no difference. My body moved, without the influence of my conscious. With all the training of the past millennium.

And with that did I kill all the witches who didn't flee. All the warlocks who stood here to fight me. Defending against whatever it was that Vincent had invited into their sacred ground.

Me.

I look over the cemetery, then up into the sky. "I'm fine." I say out loud. My voice came out as scratchy. I touch my throat, feeling the area that one of the warlocks had slit my throat with. It must have done internal damage.

I lean up against the rail, which stood on both sides of the cold stone stairs, and swallow the stone that was hovering at the back of my mouth.

I grabbed the body nearest to me, without a head, and reached into the woman's pocket, grasping her phone with violently shaking hands.