[1]
"Why?"
The scratchy voice is heard as a body takes form in mid-air, just before it hits the floor with a dull thunk. A young woman, looking no more than her early twenties, lies on the cold steel ground, face pale with veins trailing in a crisscross pattern along her skin. She doesn't move for a good full minute and to any eye, trained or untrained, she looks dead as a doornail. Maybe the aliens screwed up and brought the wrong person. Or maybe the aliens have a thing for shits and giggles. We shall see.
Suddenly, the girl bucks upwards, taking in a deep gasp of air, only to cut it short, because hi, she really is dead and dead people don't exactly need air. Well, undead, but it's not like she has a sign on her forehead saying so. The pale cast on her skin fades away, taking the visible veins with them and it seems like just the barest hint of color returns to her cheeks.
"Son of a bitch! He actually killed me!"
Taxon, meet Lexi. Lexi, meet the rest of your afterlife. This should be exciting.
Lexi's distracted from this new place she's landed in because there's a big gaping hole in her shirt that screams out for attention. One finger gets slid into what used to be a stake wound in her chest, only to come out free of any blood and of that damned wooden stake. A slight shimmer of light on metal pulls her eyes downward and Lexi looks at her wrist which seems to have a new decoration in the form of a silver bracelet. Her face clearly says that she's utterly confused by these turn of events. "What the hell is this? When did I put this on?"
Taking it off seems impossible, no matter how hard she digs at it. A few choice words leave her mouth as Lexi flips her long blonde hair from her face and looks around at her new digs. A solid metal room with a door on one side and a pedestal on the other. Weird. She's been quite a few places in the centuries she's been hanging around, but none of them ever looked like the actual inside of a spaceship's jail.
"Hello? Stefan? Elena?" Her voice bounces back at her with no answer from the names she's called out. This. Is. Weird. Not scary, though. Three hundred and fifty year old vampires don't get scared. They're hardcore. Yes, Lexi sure enough is. Rising to her feet, she dusts herself off from head to toe and takes a better glance around. Nothing seems familiar. If she's dead--again--this is a suckass version of Heaven. Hell. Wherever vampires go where they get staked by their best friend's brother. Whatever.
"Damon? I swear I am going to snap your neck into little pieces and then decide what to do with the rest of you when I get out of here. You hear me? Asshole."
Yeah, the aliens love their jokes. Too bad Lexi’s the punchline.
The scratchy voice is heard as a body takes form in mid-air, just before it hits the floor with a dull thunk. A young woman, looking no more than her early twenties, lies on the cold steel ground, face pale with veins trailing in a crisscross pattern along her skin. She doesn't move for a good full minute and to any eye, trained or untrained, she looks dead as a doornail. Maybe the aliens screwed up and brought the wrong person. Or maybe the aliens have a thing for shits and giggles. We shall see.
Suddenly, the girl bucks upwards, taking in a deep gasp of air, only to cut it short, because hi, she really is dead and dead people don't exactly need air. Well, undead, but it's not like she has a sign on her forehead saying so. The pale cast on her skin fades away, taking the visible veins with them and it seems like just the barest hint of color returns to her cheeks.
"Son of a bitch! He actually killed me!"
Taxon, meet Lexi. Lexi, meet the rest of your afterlife. This should be exciting.
Lexi's distracted from this new place she's landed in because there's a big gaping hole in her shirt that screams out for attention. One finger gets slid into what used to be a stake wound in her chest, only to come out free of any blood and of that damned wooden stake. A slight shimmer of light on metal pulls her eyes downward and Lexi looks at her wrist which seems to have a new decoration in the form of a silver bracelet. Her face clearly says that she's utterly confused by these turn of events. "What the hell is this? When did I put this on?"
Taking it off seems impossible, no matter how hard she digs at it. A few choice words leave her mouth as Lexi flips her long blonde hair from her face and looks around at her new digs. A solid metal room with a door on one side and a pedestal on the other. Weird. She's been quite a few places in the centuries she's been hanging around, but none of them ever looked like the actual inside of a spaceship's jail.
"Hello? Stefan? Elena?" Her voice bounces back at her with no answer from the names she's called out. This. Is. Weird. Not scary, though. Three hundred and fifty year old vampires don't get scared. They're hardcore. Yes, Lexi sure enough is. Rising to her feet, she dusts herself off from head to toe and takes a better glance around. Nothing seems familiar. If she's dead--again--this is a suckass version of Heaven. Hell. Wherever vampires go where they get staked by their best friend's brother. Whatever.
"Damon? I swear I am going to snap your neck into little pieces and then decide what to do with the rest of you when I get out of here. You hear me? Asshole."
Yeah, the aliens love their jokes. Too bad Lexi’s the punchline.