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◤ 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖞-𝖘𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓: ❛ dead man walking ❜ ◢
✧
HER TEARS HAD DRIED LONG AGO, BUT THE STAIN STILL STAYED. Numbness crept inside her bones and held her prisoner as she took another swig of bourbon down her throat, the bitter taste at least giving her something to fill as she drowned herself in it. Something was always better than nothing.
She looked like a mess, and felt that way as well. Her hair hadn't been brushed and her clothes were still dirty from before, unable to take a moment to shower and change into something new. She probably smelt terrible as well, but she didn't care as she drowned another bottle. Marcel, though he looked like he was in a much better state, still felt the emotional weight she did.
He was cleaned up, but the look in his eyes was as numbing as herself. His tears had dried, but the stain was still there to faintly see. She wished she could say something to comfort him, that it would get better and soon the pain would go away, but how could she? She was living proof that the pain never seized, lingering forever until it became a dull ache of the past.
But vampires always felt more intensely. Everything amplified in their body, all their emotions heightened and increased unlike her own. She still had human emotional capabilities, and she couldn't feel the intense pain he did, at least not in the way that he did.
"I'm sorry about Davina," she said in a low voice, sipping again at the bottle.
"You didn't do anything. It was Klaus and the witches who took her," Marcel said in a biting tone, eyes flaring up for a moment in anger. Yeah, she knew that anger well.
There was another beat of silence and Marisol's eyes searched Marcel's body. "Did you want to be a vampire?" she asked him.
He looked startled by the question, surprised that she was taking this route of conversation. Then, slowly, he nodded. "I grew up with them. I didn't want to be a weak boy forever."
"I don't know any wolf who wanted to be a wolf. I mean, I certainly didn't want this. I hated what I was for a long time, so I tried to keep my nephew from making the same mistakes as me," she paused then to take another sip, "Magnus – he, he was supposed to stay a warlock. He wasn't supposed to be anything else."
"What happened to him?" Marcel asked cautiously and she looked into his eyes for a moment before taking in a breath and continuing.
"I betrayed the Mikaelson family. I – I ran away and that's unacceptable. Kol found us, some years later. He said he was giving me mercy but not killing me directly, and snapped Magnus' neck right in front of me. I pleaded for me to take me instead, but Kol didn't listen."
