Empty Crown ⚜ Klaus Mikaelson

32. 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙁𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙠𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙚𝙧𝙨

October 31.

For many it was Halloween, for Imelda Fell it was her eighteenth birthday. And, given her current situation, was spending it in a bar in a backwater town in North Carolina, drinking and wishing she could still get drunk. The bright side was it still helped her thirst.

It was a slow day, most of the loggers were complaining about the rain outside, ruining their chance at cutting down trees and making millions. It was the same complaints they'd had for the last three days, the time Imelda's been there.

"Let me guess, you wan' anothr' drink?" The gruff voice of an old veteran grumbled from in front of the Hybrid Luna. His one good eye, a murky green, focused on her while the clouded blue gazed off to the right.

Imelda slid her glass to him, wordlessly. He shook his bald head before filling it up with whiskey. She took her glass and he carried on, no doubt to go back to smoking and playing a losing card game at the other end of the bar. Poor man had yet to win a round blackjack.

Imelda was pretty sure he'd never win, not when the man he played with cheated every other turn. Three days was enough time for Imelda to know she easily stuck out in the town but she knew these were the sort of people that, if you let them be, they'd do the same for you.

Which was great, seeing as aside from the first day spent finding a special herb and compelling someone to fly like a bat out of hell to Bonnie, she spent that time breaking her bones and shifting.

To put it simply, Imelda Fell was a currently very bitter, very exhausted individual and only had it in her to drag herself to her campsite, dress and limp to the bar where she'd drink for hours on end, vanishing for the night and back the next morning.

The second form of a social life Imelda had entered the bar with a loud bang. Hayley Marshall gained attention by smirking and sauntering up to the whispered "young killer." The older brunette thought it was a dumb name for the annoyingly peacekeeping Hybrid Luna.

But old small town minds were made and the auburn haired girl was on the run from possibly killing an ex. For Hayley, she was on the run because of some secret drug problems. The rumors that surrounded them were funny and sometimes was able to earn a grin from Imelda.

"Stop stomping." Imelda muttered, her hand tightly wrapped around her glass. She didn't need to look up to see the annoyed look in green eyes. Imelda learned very quickly that, like her, the full blooded wolf drank her issues away, the only difference? Hayley was louder.

Hayley sat next to her Luna with a huff. "You left me." Her lisp was getting less noticeable, all thanks to Imelda. It was a simple enough trade, Hayley teaches Imelda to control the shift and Imelda teaches her how to speak more properly, she also teaches her patience.

"You were snoring in my ear." Imelda defended dimly.

"What's got you in an even more sourer mood?" Hayley knocked her shoulder into Imelda's but was still unable to steal her drink. How she got better alcohol than her, she'd never know. A cold beer bottle was placed in front of her so she figured it was good enough.

Imelda peered into amber liquid. "I'm eighteen today and my dad is currently locked up because his alter ego is a murdering dick." That was, of course, the only problem Imelda was focusing on.

The other problems were that Finn was dead, killed by her friends. Damon and Elena were currently on a road trip to get Jeremy and figure out where Damon and Stefan came from. Apparently, whenever an Original is killed their entire bloodline dies.

The only way Imelda knew all of this was the shocking voicemail left by Stefan Salvatore with Caroline in the background shouting for her to get home. That had been yesterday and Imelda still didn't know if she wanted to return after saying she wouldn't or not.