Bring Me To Life | The Originals (1)

From a Cradle to a Grave

Panic; sudden uncontrollable fear or anxiety, often causing wildly unthinking behaviour.

That was the one emotion that seized Davina as she practically sprinted through the darkened streets of the French Quarter, stumbling over the cobblestone pathways in her rush to reach her destination. Tears blurred her vision as she blindly followed the familiar route out of instinct and her thoughts were a jumbled mess of words thrown together in a tangled web that were sometimes even recognisable.

'Need to find Imogen. Imogen will know what to do. Oh, god, I need my big sister. I can't lose him. No, no, no, oh, god, no. Please,' she thought in a rush of indecipherable babble as she hurried towards the intimating fortress that was the Abattoir because that's where she knew that she would find her sister.

Contrary to what Imogen might have believed, or wanted to believe, Davina wasn't as oblivious to the ongoing tension between the Factions; she knew that each side was preparing for war and everyone was scrambling to gather the strongest allies. Imogen was always honest about the political climate of the supernatural community, and if Davina had asked a specific question she would've answered it to the best of her ability, but she also wasn't opposed to omitting certain facts if she felt Davina was safer or better off not knowing. And even though Imogen had never explicitly said that she had sided with the Originals, her ongoing and public association with both Elijah and Klaus was a certain giveaway. It was that fact alone that had made Davina hesitant to help Marcel when he asked her to cast a cloaking spell on his warehouse near the docks, but she had never promised anyone anything and she made sure to inform Imogen of the development when she saw her at breakfast.

"Ah!" she cried out in a mixture of shock and pain as she tripped on a cobblestone in her haste, falling down onto her hands and knees as she choked out a dry sob. The palm of her hand and her knees were stinging as she climbed to her feet with an embarrassed blush creeping onto her cheeks and she took a deep breath as she straightened the skirt of her dress. Blood marred her palm as she looked down at it with a grimace twisting her lips, blinking away the tears in her eyes as she wiped it on the material of her skirt.

Davina squeezed her hands into fists at her side, letting the searing pain of the dirt infected scrapes bring her back to reality because she knew that she wouldn't be able to help anyone if she was acting like a petrified child. 'No', she thought vehemently as she shook her head to herself in admonishment and she closed her eyes for a moment as she continued to berate herself sternly, 'No. No, I have to be strong. What would Imogen do in this situation? What would Imogen do?'

For as long as she could remember her big sister had been a pillar of strength and bravery, never faltering as she embraced her weaknesses like a sword at the ready. She wasn't naïve enough to think that Imogen was impervious to harm or that she was never afraid, but she always did a valiant job at masking that fear in front of her. She had seen Imogen breakdown in a mess of tears once before and that was in the dark of night when she thought that Davina had fallen into a deep slumber.

That night in question was a blur now; Imogen had been missing for a few days and an eleven year old Davina was beginning to worry because it wasn't like her to disappear without a trace, with not even a note or phone call. When Imogen wasn't there to walk her home from school like she usually did, she built up the nerve to ask their mother where she was but Victoria had dismissed her question with a vague reply that Imogen would be home soon, no explanation or further information. After four days without communication of any form, she asked Monique if she could ask her aunt Sophie if she had heard from Imogen since the two of them were practically attached at the hip and the foursome spent most of their time together, getting away from their demanding families. She learned the next day from an equally distressed Monique that Sophie hadn't seen or heard from Imogen since the weekend and was reaching out to anyone that might know something. She could still remember the fear that settled in her stomach, the uncertainty and the helplessness, but there was nothing she could do at the tender age of eleven to help her sister, especially if she didn't know what she was saving her from.