one ♛ i see the stars in black and white ) video

[selfishing]

[ When she does address the network, Isobel has a cool, yet calculating, maybe even friendly? Smile. Because, not long after waking up, survival mode kicked in. She's perused the Forge. She doesn’t see signs of Klaus. But she recognizes three people. No, Matt, you're not getting a shoutout. ]

Hello, Anatole.

[ She looks off to the side. ]There

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[selfishing]

[ Forever! ]

[ She's not stupid. He shouldn't be being so helpful. Something's going on. But, for the time being, she wants to see him. At least someone is agreeable. And a few good memories float through her mind. Good ones. A bad one. She doesn't feel like being 'ripped to bits.' But, Elena isn't here. ]

And a second blast from the not so recent past. All right. I'll play. Let's chat. Did you have somewhere in mind?

[ Because she's new. But, she can find her way... ]

[selfishing]

And I didn't even mean to be predictable.

[ Are there foreclosures in this strangely Victorian setting? Probably not. ]

You know how I like privacy.

[ Her hand comes to her necklace and she begins to play with it. ]

I feel like stretching my legs. How far away are these ruins.

[selfishing]

I'll find my way.

[ Sure enough, she gathers her coat and the same formerly blue dress (it's kind of charred black but, what? it's a look) and she heads out into the city. Normally, she'd research, really find out about the city, the ins and outs. The nooks. The crannies. But, she isn't patient today.

By the time she arrives, she thanks the NPC she followed, a brawny man who she may get use out of yet. Looking him straight in the eye, she dismisses him, all ready missing Cherie and Frank. Had she said it in French, he probably would have just tilted his head.

Watching him leave, she turns back towards the ruins. ]

[selfishing]

[ As opposed to five minutes from now.

She studies the ruins, the architecture as she talks and walks. ]

I thought I was dead. I never believed in an afterlife - after afterlife. Purgatory. Hell. If there is a hell, I'd be there. [ She glances back. ] And so would you. [ And his brother with his long sordid track record. ] I should be dead. And I'm not. [ And now, for an interrogation. Usually, she's not the question-asker. She's the demander. The catalyst. The mover, the shaker. So, she sounds just as detached as ever. She only sounds mildly curious. ] How did I get here?

[selfishing]

[ Would she be happy, though? You're away from Elena. This is definitely cause to celebrate. ]

I didn't wake up in front of a door, Damon. I woke up in a bed.

[selfishing]

[ So, she arrived through a door and then lost consciousness? And then woke up in a room? So many unanswered questions. ]

I've noticed that there are those here that sound like Renaissance festival enthusiasts.

[ She rolls her eyes. ]

Vampires?

[selfishing]

Public?

You're not in a position to negotiate. [ And now, she superspeeds in front of him, close, lips close. ] What is it you need? Or, is it what you want? Because what you need and want are almost never the same thing.

[selfishing]

[ Hand in his hair, pulling his head back, yanking and then... superspeeding over to that one ruin over there. ]

I don't like to be told what to do. But, perhaps your tone was hostile. Or, what your tone implied. Is that what you want?

[ Arm crossing. ]

For me to behave myself.