Apr. 20th, 2012

prodigalsavior: ([Rebekah] Alcohol makes it better)
Every now and then, the constriction of the village tightened around him until he wanted to throw something through a wall. It wasn't often--for the most part he'd learned to be content in his three years here--but when it happened, it was like a restless burning he couldn't shake.

He was a vampire, a predator. Once upon a time, he'd been death lurking in the shadows. He took what he wanted. He didn't ask for permission.

And now...well, on several levels, yes, he had everything he wanted. People weren't happy about it, but so far no matter how badly he acted, no matter how far he pushed against the boundaries, no one snapped back. He didn't know what to make of that. Shouldn't they be snapping back? Shouldn't someone be drawing lines?

Granted, he was all ready to rip through the lines already drawn, as well as someone's throat. He remembered the last real taste of fear he'd had, the night he and Rebekah had hunted those girls through the club, and he shivered just a bit. Biting his lower lip, he sent her a message.

My room. Now. I have a plan.

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Damon Salvatore

June 2013

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