It pierces at something inside of her, and while she keeps her hands on the side of his face, her own expression nearly crumbles as it reaches her. The mournful sound rushing past her ears until it's all she can hear. She doesn't know if it's hope or sheer delusion at this point.
The greatest secret of all is Elena is a fatalist where it really matters, and she should've never forgotten that to start with. There's a hatch in the high, high ceiling but it's sealed shut, and impossible to reach. The hopelessness wants to seep in through the cracks and Elena can't allow it, not when he sounds the way he sounds and looks the way he looks.
She hasn't been tortured much as of yet, aside from taking her blood and setting it in bags, but the real torture for her has been listening to what has been done to everyone else. To the broken bones and the broken screams and not able to do anything but pound against the door.
Nothing could be more torturous to her than that, whatever they could've done to her own body, and Elena doesn't doubt their own strength or bravery. They aren't so easily broken down, and they've fought against it as it's all they can do, it's all she knows how to do.
We're not, he says, and her eyes close against him, lips briefly resting at his temple since she doesn't know that he believes it, that she believes it anymore either, but she holds on tighter as if that means something. As if she can hold on to anything and anyone in the end.
"Just hold on," she whispers. There has to be a way. There were people aside from them that were looking into the Society, that know they were aware of it as well, and they could be searching for them. It's not much, but it's a thought Elena had when she was trying to grasp at straws. Once the ceremony begins, there's no turning back, but --
It's not about her surviving this time.
She just wants everyone else to.
It's her blood that needs to be spilled, ultimately.
Her palm splays over the side of his face as she brings him over, glancing upward but there aren't any windows.
She grows cold at Lucien's words, but Elena isn't one to cower, and she refuses to react to them. It's what he wants and Elena never wants to give him what he wants, even as her face grows visibly pale at the mention of Ethan screaming her name. Her eyes tear themselves away from Ethan to look at the bars of the cell.
There's no where to run and the solid realization of it has her heart picking up its speed, beating painfully against the bars of her ribcage as it fighting to make its way out.
It isn't as if she's devoid of fear.
Fear is certainly coursing through her veins strongly along with plenty of other emotions, namely hate and apprehension. The dread sinks into and pools at her stomach, balling it tightly into a knot. In spite of this, her back straights like a rod, her jaw sets stubbornly, and her eyes darken with purpose.
They practically glower with the hate and revulsion that she feels for him, her eyes, jaw still locked tightly enough she feels the strain of it at her teeth. "What more do you want?" she asks, breathing through what feels like fire swarming her chest.
He has everything he needs for the ceremony.
He's had plenty of fun at their expense. What is the point he's trying to make before it all comes to a head? Elena had been comforted by the belief he'd needed her alive. As long as she was a bargaining chip of some kind, there was something to bargain, and she could just as easily plunge a knife into her stomach the way she did with Elijah.
Elena wouldn't think twice before she did it, and it's Ethan's reaction that reminds her how there is nothing she will not do so as long as there was something she could barter with.
no subject
It pierces at something inside of her, and while she keeps her hands on the side of his face, her own expression nearly crumbles as it reaches her. The mournful sound rushing past her ears until it's all she can hear. She doesn't know if it's hope or sheer delusion at this point.
The greatest secret of all is Elena is a fatalist where it really matters, and she should've never forgotten that to start with. There's a hatch in the high, high ceiling but it's sealed shut, and impossible to reach. The hopelessness wants to seep in through the cracks and Elena can't allow it, not when he sounds the way he sounds and looks the way he looks.
She hasn't been tortured much as of yet, aside from taking her blood and setting it in bags, but the real torture for her has been listening to what has been done to everyone else. To the broken bones and the broken screams and not able to do anything but pound against the door.
Nothing could be more torturous to her than that, whatever they could've done to her own body, and Elena doesn't doubt their own strength or bravery. They aren't so easily broken down, and they've fought against it as it's all they can do, it's all she knows how to do.
We're not, he says, and her eyes close against him, lips briefly resting at his temple since she doesn't know that he believes it, that she believes it anymore either, but she holds on tighter as if that means something. As if she can hold on to anything and anyone in the end.
"Just hold on," she whispers. There has to be a way. There were people aside from them that were looking into the Society, that know they were aware of it as well, and they could be searching for them. It's not much, but it's a thought Elena had when she was trying to grasp at straws. Once the ceremony begins, there's no turning back, but --
It's not about her surviving this time.
She just wants everyone else to.
It's her blood that needs to be spilled, ultimately.
Her palm splays over the side of his face as she brings him over, glancing upward but there aren't any windows.
She grows cold at Lucien's words, but Elena isn't one to cower, and she refuses to react to them. It's what he wants and Elena never wants to give him what he wants, even as her face grows visibly pale at the mention of Ethan screaming her name. Her eyes tear themselves away from Ethan to look at the bars of the cell.
There's no where to run and the solid realization of it has her heart picking up its speed, beating painfully against the bars of her ribcage as it fighting to make its way out.
It isn't as if she's devoid of fear.
Fear is certainly coursing through her veins strongly along with plenty of other emotions, namely hate and apprehension. The dread sinks into and pools at her stomach, balling it tightly into a knot. In spite of this, her back straights like a rod, her jaw sets stubbornly, and her eyes darken with purpose.
They practically glower with the hate and revulsion that she feels for him, her eyes, jaw still locked tightly enough she feels the strain of it at her teeth. "What more do you want?" she asks, breathing through what feels like fire swarming her chest.
He has everything he needs for the ceremony.
He's had plenty of fun at their expense. What is the point he's trying to make before it all comes to a head? Elena had been comforted by the belief he'd needed her alive. As long as she was a bargaining chip of some kind, there was something to bargain, and she could just as easily plunge a knife into her stomach the way she did with Elijah.
Elena wouldn't think twice before she did it, and it's Ethan's reaction that reminds her how there is nothing she will not do so as long as there was something she could barter with.
Now she's not so sure.