When Everything's Meant to be Broken [Tag Klaus, then Jenna and/or Ric]
She was gone. It was the only fact Elijah had been able to grasp. At first, he'd hoped--crazy a hope as it might have been--that she'd just somehow moved out of the room while he slept, but a scrambling grasping at the registry, a scanning through misted eyes and with a trembling finger had revealed she wasn't there.
He hadn't wanted to believe, even as pain gutted through him, twisting like wildfire, but the front desk confirmed it.
There was no one named Alexia Branson residing in the hotel. Not anymore.
Bad enough if she had just gone home. Bad enough if she'd gotten angry and moved out. Bad enough to know he might never see her again, and he wasn't sure he had told her enough that he loved her.
But there was no home, no back, no life for her. Damon Salvatore had ended that, for once and always.
The tight control felt like it would splinter, did splinter. He'd grieved before, lost before, but not in so long, and he had locked it up so tightly inside him, swore he would never feel that way again...
And even if he'd needed it, he couldn't draw breath around the pain.
It was hours before he could even send a message, a twisted little arc of a cry for help. Somehow he found himself moving when Klaus told him to. He didn't want to see anyone. He didn't want to be alone. He didn't want to feel. He didn't want to dishonor her by not.
Klaus was right. Love made you weak.
He found himself knocking at his brother's door, even so.
* * *
Just as numb, whatever outlet he'd found for his grief and rage, he moved like the ghost she was, back into the home they'd shared, closing the door and leaning against it, not wanting to head toward his room and wishing to any god who would listen that he could finally drink enough to turn everything off. What a splendid, perfect lie, like all the other little lies.
For the first time, he hated the village.
[ooc: Klaus thread happens first, then Jenna and/or Ric--if anyone wants to snag him in the hallway, feel free to do so at your own risk. ;-)]
He hadn't wanted to believe, even as pain gutted through him, twisting like wildfire, but the front desk confirmed it.
There was no one named Alexia Branson residing in the hotel. Not anymore.
Bad enough if she had just gone home. Bad enough if she'd gotten angry and moved out. Bad enough to know he might never see her again, and he wasn't sure he had told her enough that he loved her.
But there was no home, no back, no life for her. Damon Salvatore had ended that, for once and always.
The tight control felt like it would splinter, did splinter. He'd grieved before, lost before, but not in so long, and he had locked it up so tightly inside him, swore he would never feel that way again...
And even if he'd needed it, he couldn't draw breath around the pain.
It was hours before he could even send a message, a twisted little arc of a cry for help. Somehow he found himself moving when Klaus told him to. He didn't want to see anyone. He didn't want to be alone. He didn't want to feel. He didn't want to dishonor her by not.
Klaus was right. Love made you weak.
He found himself knocking at his brother's door, even so.
* * *
Just as numb, whatever outlet he'd found for his grief and rage, he moved like the ghost she was, back into the home they'd shared, closing the door and leaning against it, not wanting to head toward his room and wishing to any god who would listen that he could finally drink enough to turn everything off. What a splendid, perfect lie, like all the other little lies.
For the first time, he hated the village.
[ooc: Klaus thread happens first, then Jenna and/or Ric--if anyone wants to snag him in the hallway, feel free to do so at your own risk. ;-)]