THROUGH NARROWED HAZEL HUES the male studied his surroundings, bow drawn with an arrow ready to fly toward an enemy. The enemy that no longer stood before him, who had seemingly vanished into thin air. Or, was it he that had vanished? Sheathing the arrow, he then slung the bow over his shoulder, pale lips pressing into a thin line as his brow furrowed. Humming momentarily, Alec continued to take in his surroundings, the large buildings were entirely foreign to him, he could tell from the lack of bustle on the streets that he definitely was not in New York City anymore. A hand combed back through ebony locks as the six foot something male groaned, knowing that he would have to make himself visible to the mundane population if he had any hope of finding out where he was.

SLIPPING THE STELE from his pocket, the male then swiped it over one of his runes, sighing softly for a moment. Shoving the object back into his pocket, Alec then wandered out into the street in hope of finding someone who could help shed some light on the situation he found himself in. “Excuse me,” He flashed a fake smile in the direction of the being before him. “I think I’m lost, would you mind telling me where we are?” Confusion filtered over the shadow hunter’s face as he peered away from the other, studying his surroundings. He couldn’t help but wonder if any fellow shadow hunters had ended up following him to, wherever the hell he was.

...

                           there’s   C E R T A I N   memories  that  remain  etched  in  your  head  like  scars:  even  the  sea  would  be  BLISSFULLY  unable  to  wash  away  the  pile  of  sand  stuck  on  repeat  in  his  mind  (  cordially assuming that this was genuine survival and not merely a staple in some corner cell of hell  ).  strange  town,  strange  faces  —-  something  partially  easy  about  those  two  devices.  it  was  the  air,  however;  the  way  it  came  to  be  playing  some  melodic  tune  and  oh  how  his  concern  rang  like  a  bell.  “ there, there mate....afraid we’re both dealing with the same issue. ”

            he’s  not  harsh  as  much  as  he  finds  SOME  amusement  in  having  no  answers  and  no  foot  in  any  door  regarding  whatever  the  hell  was  going  on;  he  was  calling  it...ironic  positivity  (  take a page out of all the people drinking their glass half full and pretend he wasn’t aching with worry  ).  “ you, uh —- didn’t happen to come here after having someone else’s hand in your chest? ”  he  gives  a  shrug,  lets  the  worry  filter  into  some  corner  of  his  mind, to  be  taken  out  in  any  form  of  drinking  necessary.  “ just asking to eliminate a pattern being the undeniable cause. ”

( michael malarkey, 27/142+, he/him )  welcome to reprieve, ENZO ST. JOHN who is from THE VAMPIRE DIARIES, SEASON 8.  rumor has it they are a VAMPIRE, but only they could tell you the truth! when i close my eyes, i think of them and imagine TORN SHIRTS, PLUCKED GUITAR STRINGS, GRINS AS SHARP AS KNIVES & A SMILE AS CHARMING AS THE CHESHIRE CAT.