VALLEY OF GRAVES.

━━━ i. no rest for the dead.

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chapter one.
┕━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━┙

               A peaceful tranquil state of mind sounds like a myth to Delphine Reyes. She doesn't understand how to explain it, it's like her mind isn't her own, like she's sharing it at the most inappropriate times. Tonight, she's been granted the chance to unclench her shoulders and unwind. Most of the time, Delphine finds herself most comfortable in the girls' showers at midnight, alone with her thoughts and soaking in the scolding water cascading down her bronze back, soften her firm muscles.

     Dr. Saltzman had left hours ago on a mission to rescue another stray werewolf with Hope Mikaelson. She doubts they need anymore, they're a bunch of assholes with territorial dilemmas. Well, they're lucky to be territorial together and she's. . . lonesome because nobody even attempts to understand her struggles. She's the only bogey woman here formality known as the wailing woman or Banshee, and it's not easy when her death wants to make her its bitch, luring her to where he waits, forcing her to find corpses, torturing her mind. But lately, things have been quiet like being able to sew something as mundane as a burning bird with no mark or hint of death.

     Her moist lips twists into a scowl as the water curls cold, leaping out of the shower head's shot, goosebumps raise on her skin as she grabs her pastel blue towel ignoring her phone blasting music on top of the sink. Delphine's barely been here long enough. She tries twisting the knob to make it hotter but it only gets colder. She huffs, pinching the bridge of her nose for a few seconds to calm herself down, at least she didn't start scrubbing herself with soap. Snatching her towel and forces strands of her chocolate brown hair inside in her matching pastel blue shower cap decorated with dinosaurs, a Christmas gift from one of her younger brother and shoved her feet in her pool slides.

     She yanks open the shower curtains. Her stomach drops as the lights begin to fade succumbing her to darkness, her grip tightens on her towel.

     "Uh, hello, I'm still here!" Delphine snarled at the person who turned off the lights, her eyebrows creasing. No response. Instead it's like her words are spat in the air like exploding fireworks and fade away. So much for enjoying her midnight shower in peace. She takes a step into the darkness, her eyes straining to spot the light from her phone or even hear her music. What is going on?

     She licks her lips. Something brushes the nape of her neck, her fist jerked over her left shoulder punching air and whirls around spotting nothing but darkness. It's a miracle she could even see her own hands and legs. But there's someone here, someone watching her in this tunnel of darkness.

     "Touch me one more fucking time and I'll burst your eardrum." Delphine threatened, keeping her fingers locked around her towel, her feet carefully spinning around to catch anyone sudden movements near her. She's not in control, how can she be when all she sees is the dark. She can't magically see through the dark like werewolves or vampires nor can she magic up a walking lightbulb; all she has is voices in her head and the moment, not even them can guide her through this.

     "Beware the new comers, wailing woman, they'll be your doom." His words were as soft as the wind blowing, coming from everywhere yet nowhere. A warning, why would a man give her warning about a stray werewolf?

      Before she could ask, a swarm of voices swam around her like nagging flies growing louder and louder, their voices were disorganised, nothing they were saying made any bit of sense. Then a shout in her face made her stumble back into the lavender colored bathroom, wincing when her shoulder touched the scolding hot water and almost trips over her bar of soap.

     Delphine sucks in a sharp breath, stomping out of the bathroom. She should've known the ' pure ' state of mind wouldn't last long, death doesn't take a breath so why would a banshee.