Night 50: M111-M120 Hallway

[sanguinario]

So, her roommate was nice. A nice, ordinary girl... with memories of a serial killer. Nothing to worry about but switching that girl's memory with Bella's face. Absolutely nothing to worry about

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M119

[saviored]

There was nothing about a close encounter with fire that even made it near pleasant. When the number of things that could actually end your undead existence consisted of maybe three items total, the ones on the list were special-and really, Damon didn't much care for near-death experiences when he was already dead, anyway. Redundancy was a nuisance.

At any rate, he'd ditched the merry little rescue band so he could go crash without an audience. Skull-splitting effects, being set on fire-he was entitled. And when he woke up, he noticed that the ceiling was way too white and way too low to be the house.

Damn it, what-

He rolled out of bed. His bare feet hit the cool tiles. He bounced on the mattress a little, heard the frame creak. Probably made in China. He blinked once, twice, waiting for his vision to readjust to the pitch black. After a second or two, it did. Barely. He blinked again. Ugh. He hoped this wasn't some kind of side effect of the vervain. It wasn't as if he made a habit of being injected with the stuff. Caroline had been an ingestion thing, it was completely different. Tonight had been a first and the only thing that made it slightly more tolerable was that it could be blamed on the little witch. Last time he ever thanked anyone before testing their word.

Even if she had saved him. Apparently. For whatever reason. Or maybe not whatever reason; this was Bonnie, so it obviously had something to do with Elena, though that answer didn't make it any less...Whatever, he wasn't gonna philosophize over the morals of teenage girls right at this moment. Not when someone had apparently. Taken his clothes? And replaced them. With...these.

Oh. No way. Okay, now he was pissed. If this was another John Gilbert master plan, someone was losing a finger and a portion of their esophagus. In that order.

Except he didn't think so, he decided as he rifled through one drawer and then the next, moving far too sluggishly for it to not be vervain, probably residual. John was a kill-them-immediately kind of guy when there was nothing left he wanted. Besides, wasn't like the plan hadn't been a success on a 9/10 scale. The vampire population in Mystic Falls had been reduced to just him and Stefan now.

Which, yeah, no lost love for the other vampires, obviously-possible exception being Anna-but he still didn't like it. Who the hell gave that bastard the right to pull a reenactment of 1864, seriously.

Actually, who the hell gave John the right to try to kill him in the first place?

He slammed the final drawer shut. Journal and pens. Useless. His brother might've started honing his Gothic poetry skills right then and there, but that wasn't Damon's specialty. No one had come inside the room. Really? No one? It occurred to him right then what was wrong, really wrong. The place wasn't exceptionally quiet, it was just...like the volume was turned down.

[saviored]

Okay, that was it. Answers. He wanted them, immediately. Which meant he had to find people. Which was fine. If they were wearing vervain, he'd rip it off. Humans. Give them a charm stuffed with an herb and they thought they could mimic invulnerability.

He dug for shoes, chucking clothes onto the floor because they could pick that up or not for all he cared. He finally dug out some shoes (first on the list: find his own goddamn clothes), and yanked open the door. Irritation increased with every ticking second. He'd had a bad night, all right? Some time out wouldn't go amiss. He still wanted to see Elena, talk to her, and really, he should tell Jeremy that his vampire girlfriend was dead, too. His second vampire girlfriend, that was. The one that wasn't Damon's fault.

His eyes narrowed, one hand resting on the doorframe as he peered out. He wasn't usually one for caution, but he felt off. Something wasn't right. About himself. He didn't feel right, like he missing a whole lot of things he never even thought he could be missing.

The view that greeted him when he looked out into the hall was lovely shade of darkness. Rows of rooms. What was this, a hospital? Looked like it. A shifty one, at that. Talk about lack of lit exit signs. Wasn't that breaking some sort of fire regulation bylaw? Where was he? Well, he knew he was in a building, but where was the building? Because he'd definitely left Mystic Falls behind. He knew the town inside out, which wasn't hard to do given its size. This building did not exist there.

Oh, never mind. He couldn't be that far from civilization.

Which was soon proven by a loud bang and a fleeing figure. Awesome. What was that? Distracted for a split second, he stared at the empty space where whoever that was had been, then shook his head. So there were other people here. Who attacked doors. That probably indicated they didn't enjoy being here any more than he did.

His gaze drifted upwards, moving further down the hall before he glanced to his right. One end had a door and the other had an adjacent hallway. Hmm. Wow. The multitude of options was astounding.

Hallway number one of one it was, then.

[to here]