warning: death blood...yall know wtf is going on....lemme apologize in advanced....
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AS SHE LAY DYING, ALL SHE COULD THINK ABOUT WAS THAT THERE WAS MORE TO LIFETHAN SHE HAD EVER THOUGHT POSSIBLE. Life was an infinite cycle of love, hate, happiness, pain, birth, death. That was the way of the world, Rory had believed just as most people, until it wasn't. The cracks had appeared in the lies long before she realized what she was staring at.
There was something out there, something powerful and beyond any imagination, that allowed for all these faults to take shape as things from the worst nightmares. From shapeshifters, to werewolves, to immortal creatures frozen in time, a blood-borne extraordinary ability to heal, it was all manageable for Rory. She survived it all. It was only a matter of time before her hubris got the best of her; and in it's form of Olivia Godfrey.
The first thing Rory realized as she came to, was that her body felt unnaturally heavy. She was paralyzed. It was hard to think, each thought was like wading through water with weights attached to her limbs. Her eyes were all she could move as she took in her surroundings.
Where was she?
She was facing the center of a large empty room with only a crib with a black canopy the only furniture. Then the cry of her baby girl snapped her mind out of the murky water. She tried sitting up, tried getting to her daughter, yet she had no control over herself. She remained paralyzed, barely breathing, pale and cold from whatever drug had been injected into her veins. Someone had dressed her in a plain black dress. She looked like she was dead.
The sound of heels clicking reverberated around the attic as a pair of black heels appeared in her vision. Olivia knelt in front of her, raising her brow at finding Rory awake. "Oh. You're still here." She rolled her eyes, "Pryce said your kind is particularly hard to kill once you've triggered your genes. No matter that, you'll make a fine first feast for him, Aurora. Angel blood, how about that?"
Rory wanted to scream, to cut this bitch's throat out. An anger, a mother's anger, that coursed through her veins. She had never hated another being so much before, the instinct the kill was overwhelming.
"You had such a beautiful baby girl," Olivia stroked Rory's still face, long nails like the side of a knife in her delight. She could see the fury in Rory's eyes. "Don't worry, I haven't touched a hair on her little head." The grandmother of her child smiled tauntingly. "I have Roman for that."
And Rory was afraid of that.
"How you managed to make my son so sentimental and weak is beyond me. It's not like our kind to be so...domestic. I'll fix that." Olivia laughed coldly, before turning her head toward the door. "He's here. Now, sleep, princess."
