Bring Me To Life | The Originals (1)

Friends with Chocolate (And Alcohol)

"There is nothing better than a friend, unless it is a friend with chocolate."

― Linda Grayson

It had taken Imogen Clare a fair amount of time to adjust to the quiet that now filled her nights. Before the events of the Harvest ritual that had changed her life, she spent her weekdays either at home with her parents dulled voices like white noise in the background of her mind as she tried to ignore them the best she could while she took care of her baby sister.

When Davina was still an infant, the sound of The Wiggles or soundtracks from Disney movies singing in the upstairs playroom could be heard from every room in the house as she idly played with her building blocks or her baby doll that Imogen had brought for her second Christmas. Imogen would sit to the side of the room on one of the comfortable armchairs with a book in hand or her homework from school that day as she protectively watched over the rebellious toddler to make sure she didn't do anything that would put herself in harm.

As they both grew older, The Wiggles stopped playing quietly in the background and were replaced with the likes of Bon Jovi, Elvis Presley, Madonna, AC/DC, Good Charlotte and any other band or musician that the girls discovered on one of their many trips to the local record store. If there was one thing that Imogen had wanted to pass on to her younger sister it was that one simple song could change your view of the world.

Imogen's weekends during her college career were normally spent surrounded by raucous laughter of young people in a drunken haze, deafening music being played from speakers and idle chatting spoken loudly over the resounding bass vibrating the floor of whatever club she and her friends had conned their way into that night.

But now that her world has been turned upside down, her nights were normally spent alone in her newly acquired apartment as she finished whatever researched paper she needed to complete for her psychology degree or simply reading one of her many books quietly on her comfortable couch with a glass of wine in her hand.

Imogen sighed slightly to herself as she turned her head from her copy of To Kill A Mockingbird to gaze out the window at the lights of the French Quarter and reluctantly admitted to herself that the view from her new apartment's longue room window was absolutely gorgeous in the clear night sky.

A few weeks pry, Marcel had made the compelling argument that she was much safer in the French Quarter where he could keep a mindful eye on her and protective her from the witches that were still trying to use her to find Davina's location. Imogen had argued relentlessly for hours after he first suggested it but the self-proclaimed King was just as stubborn as she was and matched her arguments instantly with one of his own. It took them three hours straight of heated debate until Marcel finally became frustrated with the argument and offered her a deal that she couldn't refuse and that was how Imogen won the right to have a sleepover with her sister for one weekend of their choosing.

The day after Marcel had convinced Imogen to move into one of the apartment buildings he owned in the middle of the French Quarter, a few daywalkers and a bunch of hired humans showed up on her doorstep with cardboard boxes in hand.

Imogen placed her half-full glass of red wine down on the coffee table in front of her as she uncrossed her legs gracefully and memorised the page number of her book before setting it down next to the wine glass. She hummed to herself in boredom as she gracefully pushed herself to her feet with her arms extended over her head to stretch her muscles and she rolled her neck from side to side with her eyes closed as she cleared her throat gently.

A quiet knock on the front door to her apartment startled her enough to make her stuck in a sharp breath as her bluish eyes sprung open in surprise and she stiffened with suspicion as she slowly started walking towards the door with a frown on her lips. It was extremely uncommon for anyone to come knocking on her door, especially after nine o'clock at night and Imogen hesitantly opened the door with her magic slowly swelling in her stomach in case she needed to defend herself against an attack.