[OPEN]
Characters: Damon and anyone who chooses to join in
Setting/Location: Common Room
Date & Time: Day 59
Warnings: Drunkenness and beads
Summary: Damon's throwing a party. He'll probably make himself feel better by making other people feel bad.
( Oh, when the vamps go marching in... )
Setting/Location: Common Room
Date & Time: Day 59
Warnings: Drunkenness and beads
Summary: Damon's throwing a party. He'll probably make himself feel better by making other people feel bad.
( Oh, when the vamps go marching in... )
He sighed softly, taking a swig of...of...of whatever it was that these people considered alcohol, and made his way over at a casual, elegant swagger. He knew before he got there that things were going to get ugly fast. That's the way it always was with vampires, especially young ones. All of their emotions were heightened, intensified. Out of control, really. And Bonnie hadn't exactly been the model of control to begin with. At least, that wasn't the way he remembered it. But Damon had done his best to drink away most of his remaining brain cells that gave a thought to Fell's Church.
Raising his glass slightly, Damon nodded to her. "I want you to know that I forgive you," he said. He really meant it. He wasn't going to hold it over Bonnie, the way she had gotten in the way of his plans. Somehow, holding a grudge didn't feel worth it now. And that was a huge concession on his part. After all, he could hold a grudge for a good five hundred years, if he wanted.
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All that was, of course, forgotten as soon as he opened his mouth. For someone who wouldn't shut up about how charming he was, he was really bad with women sometimes.
"That's very gen-rous," she managed to get out. Wow, that was a hard word. "Generous," she carefully repeated, enunciating every syllable.
She thumped her head against the wall, sighing. "What do you want, Damon?" Bonnie asked very softly, and the tone of her voice was more weary than it was spiteful. She wasn't sober enough to be spiteful.
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More like inappropriate for any time or any place. Damon didn't want to talk about his feelings, not now, not ever. But he had the sinking feeling that Bonnie could pretty easily guess what he wanted out of life. The impossible. Well, there were two things he would take. Both quite impossible. He either wanted Elena back (highly unlikely, as she had never even been his to begin with and, well, dead was dead) or else he wanted all of his time in Fell's Church to just...poof...vanish.
Either one would make him a happy man.
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"Do you know what I want?" she spoke, voice still low and completely lacking its usual upbeat tempo. "You're my sire, and do you have any idea what it is that I want? Do you know anything about me?"
He'd guess something ridiculous, Bonnie thought. That her desire was to be in the best sorority at the University of Virginia or to get married and have five babies or to become best friends with Shannen Doherty.
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Damon sighed. "No," he answered unabashedly, "I don't know what you want. And if I wanted to know, I'd ask. I'm not one for beating around the bush, in case you hadn't noticed."
He folded his arms. "And while we're on the subject, I would like to know why you've been acting like a spoiled brat. I have been working my ass off to keep from going into a hunger frenzy and you see determined to make me do something we'll both regret."
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She took another sip from her near-empty glass. Next, she'd go with something a little stronger. Whether she was ignoring his question or whether she had just forgotten it was unclear, but Bonnie carefully pushed herself up, standing on the seat. She reached out and pressed her palms against Damon's shoulders, giving him a very serious look.
"Damon," Bonnie asked solemnly, eyes open wide, "Do you think I'm pretty?"
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Deal with one psycho at a time, he told himself. Gently, but firmly, he took hold of Bonnie's wrists, pulling her hands away from his shoulders and pressing her palms together, in front of her chest. "You're pretty," he said. Bonnie wasn't his type, but the process of becoming a vampire always had a way of making people more attractive.
"You're drunk and upset and that's really a bad combination. Why don't you go lie down in your room for awhile?" Damon wished vampires could compel other vampires, but he just wasn't that powerful. "Sober up a little and then rejoin the party. I'm going to fake a King's cake. And I imagine your boy toy will want to dance with you." He nodded over in Face's direction.
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"No," she repeated again, softer, and a little more sadly. "Caroline was pretty. Elena was pretty. They always had boys wrapped around--"
Pathetically, she wriggled her pinkie finger, shoulders slumping.
"M'not good enough," she mumbled, slumping back down into her seat. "Again."
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In a low, very dangerous voice, Damon glared at her. "Listen up, Bonnie. You're not some pathetic high school girl anymore. You're a superior being and it's about time you started acting like one. So no more bitching and moaning. You just do want you want, take what you want, be what you want. That's how we are."
He paused a moment, giving her a special glare which silently added that he was letting her off easy. She should never, ever have mentioned Elena and it was only by remembering that this was his binge party that Damon was able to let it go.
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She reached out and poked Damon in the chest, giving him a look of her own. "She was my friend long before you ever came along. I'll talk about her when I need to talk about her, and if you want another you-know-what to go prowling with you or be your wingman or whatever, then stop being so damn mean all the time."
Bonnie flopped back down into the chair as if all the energy had been sucked out of her. "Anyway, you should know what it's like when you want someone who doesn't want you."
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Damon held up his hands in a mock gesture of surrender. "I'm not going to have this conversation with you while you're drunk. You're fairly unreasonable as it is while sober, but now we're done."
He glanced over at Face. Vaguely, he wondered if the threats he had made earlier, threats about how he treated Bonnie, might, in fact, come to fruition after all. He had really been joking around, enjoying the way that he managed to make that used car salesman squirm. But given the way Bonnie was behaving, Damon was starting to suspect that the idiot had said or done something that would require him to pound his nose through the back of his face. He could certainly use the exercise.
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Not today, though. Her head was spinning a little bit and she was pretty sure that Damon would win the conversation.
With vampiric grace, Bonnie extended her leg to push out a chair at Damon. "Sit with me?" she asked sweetly, reverting to her more typical gentle tone. "We can talk about whatever you want."
Bonnie wasn't ready to go make small talk with Face just yet. She wasn't ready to pretend everything was okay.
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Nevertheless, he grabbed the back of the chair, turning it around and straddling it.
"Fine. Talk."
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She decided to go with the second choice. For all his faults, Damon seemed liked the type of guy who would be willing to pretend a drunken confession had never happened.
"I like Face," she pronounced, eyes quickly darting across the room at the conman and then looking back at Damon. "I told him that I wanted him to stop sleeping with other women. He said no."
For a moment, her expression fell into the same open, unbridled sadness that often presented itself on the face of a child. "Then he kissed me. He wants to sleep with me and keep his options open."
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"Want me to bite him?" he asked, unsure of what else to say.
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"Yes!" she chirped.
Another pause. And a sigh.
"No. Yes. I don't know what I want to do, other than push strangers off the caravan."
Suddenly, she looked up at Damon, eyes lighting up. "Wait. You're sexy, right?" she asked and continued without waiting for him to respond. "You should teach me. Guys stick around for that sort of thing, right?"
Bonnie made an attempt every now and again, but she'd always been better at being cute.
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