Civil Twilight
Civil Twilight
By: Megan
Chapter 10: Shine A Little Light Part 2
Ah long time no see readers! I've been so incredibly busy with school I've barely had time to think straight let alone write. And my muse has been lacking. But, whatevs. The summer is nearly here, hence a lot of free time. ;)
Again, as usual with me, this chapter is supposed to be 5-6 pages longer but I cut it in two to work on the second half for awhile longer. Enjoy!
After drinking her fill from the blood overflowing from her sister’s delicate wrist, Clara heard a sound. A dull roar that grew louder and louder with every passing second until she actually came to the realization that not only was the sound vibrating in her ears, but she could feel it. She could feel the sound! It enveloped her entire senses; a throbbing in her lips and fingers, her veins in the flesh of her temples pulsed violently as she grabbed Katherine’s exhausted face in her hands.
“What is happening to me?”
“You are dying,” came her sister’s reply, “That is all. Your heart will stop. Your body will compose as though it were a block of ice, and then you will be reborn as what I am.”
Clara sighed, as she was re-born her capacity for fear diminished rapidly, and the drumming in her ears distilled into a mild alarm that rang somewhere in the distance of herself. Enthralled by the vivid colors spinning overhead, she was aghast a how she had never recognized the beauty of it all before. Her senses were more attuned, as she peered through the tunnel of her vision with her new vampire eyes.
However, the awe diminished as soon as, for some reason, Katherine stood and sunk, without warning or precedent, into Clara’s arms. With her fingers locked around Clara’s own, Katherine looked up at her sister’s face with the most innocent astonishment.
“It is over.”
“Katherine,” Clara stared at her. “What have you done?”
“I have allowed you to drain me to the point of death. If I had not allowed you to take as much, in your weakened state, you would have surely died.”
And Clara, disbelieving and horrified, felt a wetness make its way down her cheeks. As she lifted a finger from her left hand towards it to wipe it away, she recognized it covered in blood. Her tears were no longer composed of a small mass of water spilling from the green pools of her eyes in what would only have been several hours back. Now, she held her dying sister in her arms, her face stained red. Katherine sat upright, supported by Clara, composed, refined, but no longer filled with any sort of brilliant energy that had been so inherent of her being, only pallor and weakness remained now. Her legs stretched out straight, limp on the floor. Her white dress pooled at the bottom of her feet like an angel’s gown around her small form.
Looking up at Clara sharply, she asked a final request: “What I am about to tell you, it is a necessity that you find someway to write it down.”
Damon, wringing himself free of the kinetic pull of Clara’s hand, which, by simple touch, had plunged him so deeply into the wanton and desperately sad past of love lost, fell backwards and shamelessly unto the floor. He said nothing. The pain on his face was infinitely more terrible than Stefan had ever witnessed in the history of having known his brother, and Clara looked down upon the fallen man with a look of pure and unadulterated pity. Damon’s face contorted and softened and desperate on the verge of some awful and terrible emotion that he was not able to control. He was in fear of that emotion. And also of the feeling of pain which in its spellbinding power, in that moment, entrapped him.
“You are Clara.”
Expectance. Astonishment. Pain.
“Excuse me.”
Standing up, Damon went rather quickly back up the stairs, and out of Stefan and Clara’s sight. Looking past his shoulder at his brother, Stefan turned back his attention to Clara, with one simple question.
“I don’t know what Damon just saw, but apparently he believes that you really are not just simply a figment of any power or spell. So I just want to know one thing: if you have been perfectly content spending your entire existence in complete anonymity from those who knew you, why come back now? What are you hoping to gain?”
Clara, stepping closer to Stefan, her gray eyes gleaming, answered, “It’s not about what I have to gain. It’s about what all of us have to loose. You, me, and Damon. You and I both know that there is something coming, and it is so big, ugly, and damned, it makes all three of us look like tiny puzzle pieces.”
Elena had been sitting in that chair for the past several hours now. Completely still, completely silent. She was staring ahead at something at the wall, a spider; slowly making it’s way up the paisley print that lined the wallpaper. Because it was not what she was thinking about. She still saw the image of his hand in hers, when she hesitantly took his hand in that darkened room in the manor when she had been shot. And she still remembered the exact shade of bruised purple that tainted his shirt when she came to thank him. But not his face, because she didn’t dare look up at it. She didn’t dare let her eyes wander up to level with his own. It wasn’t fear, it was something else entirely, and that in and of itself frightened her to such an extent she had no idea what to make of it.
She felt pathetic, she felt down. Mostly because she had only known the actions that Damon had carried out over the past six months to be heinous and unforgivable, and in an uncharacteristic moment of heroism, he had saved her, seemingly devoid of any ulterior motive. But, had that somehow absolved him of his wicked practices that preceded one diminutive deed of kindness? Not by a long shot. Elena had worked herself up into these fits; wanting to loathe him, wanting to completely hate him, despise the very beautiful form that composed the mysterious soul within, but only found herself at an entire loss.
She was utterly fascinated by him, and it made her sick. She was indebted to him, and that absolutely perplexed her at how it had come to this. What’s more, is that she found herself actually thinking about him, wondering where he was or what he was doing at certain times during the day, she found herself caring about him. Elena could feel bile rising up in her throat, and she got out of her deceased father’s chair in his abandoned study, only to make her way to the place she knew she would find herself going to, but the last place she should be. At the Salvatore house.
Driving up the pathway to the bright green clearing shielded with heavy trees, Elena stopped Jenna’s beat up truck awhile away from the house. She stared ahead for a moment, looking at the branches twist and turn up the threatening trellises of brush and weeds, it was as if the very nature surrounding the house was protecting it, and maybe that was why it was the only place where Elena felt truly safe. Because, she wouldn’t accept the other possibility as to why, as it was directly related to him.
Elena’s eyes were drawn to another form however, making it’s way towards the clearly at the right of the truck, about several yards away. It was Damon. Elena found herself being grateful that she luckily stopped the truck when she did, otherwise she would have missed him if she had made her way completely to the house. Pulling the keys out of the ignition and putting them in her pant’s pocket, Elena slid out of the truck, shutting the door behind her, making her way to Damon.
“Damon.”
She said his name to alert him to her presence; however, he did not hear her, so that she had to repeat herself.
“Damon? Damon…”
One, two, three more times each time with passing clarity until he finally acknowledged her by tilting his head up, and staring at her straight into her eyes, level with her own.
Elena was shocked at how blank his face appeared, it was sallow and appeared even paler than usual, although a ruddy red color appeared on his cheeks as is he had actually been crying. They just stood there in silence.
“You’re here. Why?”
Formulating an answer that would have probably come out as naïve or even nonsensical given that she could never keep up with Damon’s blatantly honest questions or virulent quips, the vowels spilling out of Elena’s mouth only ended up constituting to nothing more than a raspy sigh, as both Stefan and Clara came up to them at the clearing.
Damon turned away from Elena to look at Stefan, and then the two brothers glanced at Clara and then back to Elena, excepting Clara to be staggered by the resemblance to her sister. However, the blonde didn’t even grant Elena a second glimpse, simply turning to the brothers and letting out a tiny laugh.
“What? Did you really except that I didn’t do my research before coming back to town? I even studied up on Elena ... the little genetic wonder that you are.” Turning to the perplexed brunette, and looking her up and down.
“Right now we have a much more pressing matter to deal with, Damon,” Stefan announced to his brother, who looked as if he honestly didn’t give a damn. His neck was bent down, his eyes cast at the ground. Stefan would have merely summed it up to him trying to vex him; Elena took it as Damon simply didn’t want anyone to see his face at that particular moment. She had not been there nor had any knowledge of the event that took place previous to her arrival, however she could sense that there was something wrong. Did Damon even feel pain?
“We have to take care of this Iscariot situation,” Stefan continued, “the man that we have is not talking.”
“You mean the one who confronted Damon and I during the attack at the Founder’s Mansion?”
“Yes.” Damon answered, “We have him.”
“What do you mean you have him?”
“What I just distinctly said. Chained up in the basement to be exact.”
Stefan nearly scoffed at Damon’s off-handed bluntness with Elena, and Elena looked at the two Salvatore’s as if they were both insane.
“You’ve completely lost it.”
Damon rolled his eyes at Elena’s exasperation over the subject.
“Well we needed information, didn’t we?”
Clara spoke up. “Well, the point is, he’s not talking. And, I thought I could be of assistance. Give me 10 minutes with him, and he’ll tell you what you need to know.”
To be continued...
What was it that Katherine wanted Clara to write down? What will Clara do to Stefan and Damon's poor captive? And apparently Damon and Elena have a conversation that isn't quite resolved....
Also hurrah for evolving feelings! You'll be getting magnificent D/E next chappie, that's all I'm saying. ;)
Last but certainly not least, read and review! Chapters find themselves being written when I'm inspired by feedback. lol
By: Megan
Chapter 10: Shine A Little Light Part 2
Ah long time no see readers! I've been so incredibly busy with school I've barely had time to think straight let alone write. And my muse has been lacking. But, whatevs. The summer is nearly here, hence a lot of free time. ;)
Again, as usual with me, this chapter is supposed to be 5-6 pages longer but I cut it in two to work on the second half for awhile longer. Enjoy!
After drinking her fill from the blood overflowing from her sister’s delicate wrist, Clara heard a sound. A dull roar that grew louder and louder with every passing second until she actually came to the realization that not only was the sound vibrating in her ears, but she could feel it. She could feel the sound! It enveloped her entire senses; a throbbing in her lips and fingers, her veins in the flesh of her temples pulsed violently as she grabbed Katherine’s exhausted face in her hands.
“What is happening to me?”
“You are dying,” came her sister’s reply, “That is all. Your heart will stop. Your body will compose as though it were a block of ice, and then you will be reborn as what I am.”
Clara sighed, as she was re-born her capacity for fear diminished rapidly, and the drumming in her ears distilled into a mild alarm that rang somewhere in the distance of herself. Enthralled by the vivid colors spinning overhead, she was aghast a how she had never recognized the beauty of it all before. Her senses were more attuned, as she peered through the tunnel of her vision with her new vampire eyes.
However, the awe diminished as soon as, for some reason, Katherine stood and sunk, without warning or precedent, into Clara’s arms. With her fingers locked around Clara’s own, Katherine looked up at her sister’s face with the most innocent astonishment.
“It is over.”
“Katherine,” Clara stared at her. “What have you done?”
“I have allowed you to drain me to the point of death. If I had not allowed you to take as much, in your weakened state, you would have surely died.”
And Clara, disbelieving and horrified, felt a wetness make its way down her cheeks. As she lifted a finger from her left hand towards it to wipe it away, she recognized it covered in blood. Her tears were no longer composed of a small mass of water spilling from the green pools of her eyes in what would only have been several hours back. Now, she held her dying sister in her arms, her face stained red. Katherine sat upright, supported by Clara, composed, refined, but no longer filled with any sort of brilliant energy that had been so inherent of her being, only pallor and weakness remained now. Her legs stretched out straight, limp on the floor. Her white dress pooled at the bottom of her feet like an angel’s gown around her small form.
Looking up at Clara sharply, she asked a final request: “What I am about to tell you, it is a necessity that you find someway to write it down.”
Damon, wringing himself free of the kinetic pull of Clara’s hand, which, by simple touch, had plunged him so deeply into the wanton and desperately sad past of love lost, fell backwards and shamelessly unto the floor. He said nothing. The pain on his face was infinitely more terrible than Stefan had ever witnessed in the history of having known his brother, and Clara looked down upon the fallen man with a look of pure and unadulterated pity. Damon’s face contorted and softened and desperate on the verge of some awful and terrible emotion that he was not able to control. He was in fear of that emotion. And also of the feeling of pain which in its spellbinding power, in that moment, entrapped him.
“You are Clara.”
Expectance. Astonishment. Pain.
“Excuse me.”
Standing up, Damon went rather quickly back up the stairs, and out of Stefan and Clara’s sight. Looking past his shoulder at his brother, Stefan turned back his attention to Clara, with one simple question.
“I don’t know what Damon just saw, but apparently he believes that you really are not just simply a figment of any power or spell. So I just want to know one thing: if you have been perfectly content spending your entire existence in complete anonymity from those who knew you, why come back now? What are you hoping to gain?”
Clara, stepping closer to Stefan, her gray eyes gleaming, answered, “It’s not about what I have to gain. It’s about what all of us have to loose. You, me, and Damon. You and I both know that there is something coming, and it is so big, ugly, and damned, it makes all three of us look like tiny puzzle pieces.”
Elena had been sitting in that chair for the past several hours now. Completely still, completely silent. She was staring ahead at something at the wall, a spider; slowly making it’s way up the paisley print that lined the wallpaper. Because it was not what she was thinking about. She still saw the image of his hand in hers, when she hesitantly took his hand in that darkened room in the manor when she had been shot. And she still remembered the exact shade of bruised purple that tainted his shirt when she came to thank him. But not his face, because she didn’t dare look up at it. She didn’t dare let her eyes wander up to level with his own. It wasn’t fear, it was something else entirely, and that in and of itself frightened her to such an extent she had no idea what to make of it.
She felt pathetic, she felt down. Mostly because she had only known the actions that Damon had carried out over the past six months to be heinous and unforgivable, and in an uncharacteristic moment of heroism, he had saved her, seemingly devoid of any ulterior motive. But, had that somehow absolved him of his wicked practices that preceded one diminutive deed of kindness? Not by a long shot. Elena had worked herself up into these fits; wanting to loathe him, wanting to completely hate him, despise the very beautiful form that composed the mysterious soul within, but only found herself at an entire loss.
She was utterly fascinated by him, and it made her sick. She was indebted to him, and that absolutely perplexed her at how it had come to this. What’s more, is that she found herself actually thinking about him, wondering where he was or what he was doing at certain times during the day, she found herself caring about him. Elena could feel bile rising up in her throat, and she got out of her deceased father’s chair in his abandoned study, only to make her way to the place she knew she would find herself going to, but the last place she should be. At the Salvatore house.
Driving up the pathway to the bright green clearing shielded with heavy trees, Elena stopped Jenna’s beat up truck awhile away from the house. She stared ahead for a moment, looking at the branches twist and turn up the threatening trellises of brush and weeds, it was as if the very nature surrounding the house was protecting it, and maybe that was why it was the only place where Elena felt truly safe. Because, she wouldn’t accept the other possibility as to why, as it was directly related to him.
Elena’s eyes were drawn to another form however, making it’s way towards the clearly at the right of the truck, about several yards away. It was Damon. Elena found herself being grateful that she luckily stopped the truck when she did, otherwise she would have missed him if she had made her way completely to the house. Pulling the keys out of the ignition and putting them in her pant’s pocket, Elena slid out of the truck, shutting the door behind her, making her way to Damon.
“Damon.”
She said his name to alert him to her presence; however, he did not hear her, so that she had to repeat herself.
“Damon? Damon…”
One, two, three more times each time with passing clarity until he finally acknowledged her by tilting his head up, and staring at her straight into her eyes, level with her own.
Elena was shocked at how blank his face appeared, it was sallow and appeared even paler than usual, although a ruddy red color appeared on his cheeks as is he had actually been crying. They just stood there in silence.
“You’re here. Why?”
Formulating an answer that would have probably come out as naïve or even nonsensical given that she could never keep up with Damon’s blatantly honest questions or virulent quips, the vowels spilling out of Elena’s mouth only ended up constituting to nothing more than a raspy sigh, as both Stefan and Clara came up to them at the clearing.
Damon turned away from Elena to look at Stefan, and then the two brothers glanced at Clara and then back to Elena, excepting Clara to be staggered by the resemblance to her sister. However, the blonde didn’t even grant Elena a second glimpse, simply turning to the brothers and letting out a tiny laugh.
“What? Did you really except that I didn’t do my research before coming back to town? I even studied up on Elena ... the little genetic wonder that you are.” Turning to the perplexed brunette, and looking her up and down.
“Right now we have a much more pressing matter to deal with, Damon,” Stefan announced to his brother, who looked as if he honestly didn’t give a damn. His neck was bent down, his eyes cast at the ground. Stefan would have merely summed it up to him trying to vex him; Elena took it as Damon simply didn’t want anyone to see his face at that particular moment. She had not been there nor had any knowledge of the event that took place previous to her arrival, however she could sense that there was something wrong. Did Damon even feel pain?
“We have to take care of this Iscariot situation,” Stefan continued, “the man that we have is not talking.”
“You mean the one who confronted Damon and I during the attack at the Founder’s Mansion?”
“Yes.” Damon answered, “We have him.”
“What do you mean you have him?”
“What I just distinctly said. Chained up in the basement to be exact.”
Stefan nearly scoffed at Damon’s off-handed bluntness with Elena, and Elena looked at the two Salvatore’s as if they were both insane.
“You’ve completely lost it.”
Damon rolled his eyes at Elena’s exasperation over the subject.
“Well we needed information, didn’t we?”
Clara spoke up. “Well, the point is, he’s not talking. And, I thought I could be of assistance. Give me 10 minutes with him, and he’ll tell you what you need to know.”
To be continued...
What was it that Katherine wanted Clara to write down? What will Clara do to Stefan and Damon's poor captive? And apparently Damon and Elena have a conversation that isn't quite resolved....
Also hurrah for evolving feelings! You'll be getting magnificent D/E next chappie, that's all I'm saying. ;)
Last but certainly not least, read and review! Chapters find themselves being written when I'm inspired by feedback. lol