#siphoncursed

Most people would lose a FINGER or a whole hand for touching her skin.  The Mikaelson PRINCESS had long since vowed that no one would make her feel this warmth inside her rib cadge. There is BLOOD in her mouth that is her OWN from being kicked in the chomps.  She gained the upper hand fast BUT she likes to play the damsel to allow them to FIGHT hard.  Lizzie had been inside at the starting point and killed the guy with a glorious smile upon her beautiful features.           ❝ It took ya LONG enough. ❞       blue eyes boring into the icy blues of her LOVER.  It was a secret,  one that they didn’t share with others because even though Hope’s humanity long ago washed into place the death toll would stay from Lizzie’s HEAD if she wasn’t involved romantically with a Mikaelson.  Hope acts INNOCENT and sweet but now has an edge to her.   Outside of a small   BAR  & GRILL in  Kansas.  The two of them had ate dinner with a few men that Hope considered “trusted” as in compelled.                        ❝ What are you LOOKIN for? A bruised lip? ❞

             “Is that what you keep telling yourself to help you sleep at night? Having a hard time finding peace now that you’re finally here?” Lizzie had been uncharacteristically quiet for the past hour, and Hope had almost thought she had fallen asleep when her voice broke through the darkness. She doesn’t know why she still lets the heretic tag along behind her, like some sad puppy, or at least that’s what she tells herself but she also knows that the tug in the back of her mind is just another telltale sign that her humanity is starting to find its way through the cracks. It makes her angry, and she reaches for that emotion and tries to breath oxygen into the flame. But unlike before, where it was easy to coax out the rage and disinterest, Hope finds that there is something else alongside the inferno, and that makes a snarl cross her face as she stands abruptly. 

There's so much blood. It's not on her -- but on her sister, and she's stepping through. It.. sticks to her shoes and makes her stomach turn. Despite that, though, the expression on her face is simply just one of worry and care for her sister. She approaches carefully - like one might approach a wounded animal. "Lizzie.." She starts, her voice shaky. "It's me. It's Josie. Everything's okay. Everything's safe. It's over. We can just walk out and get some fresh air, alright? Just listen to my voice, yeah? It's Jo."

Lips pursed together, twisting in a sort of nervous habit, Josie tries to find the right words to say here. Either she messes up and makes whatever Lizzie is going through this time worse - and she realizes that her own thoughts on this might make her spiral further. The last thing she wants to do is harm her sister, so she takes a moment to breathe and not let herself word vomit while holding her hand. She takes her time with these moments, thought she knows that she makes mistakes, too.

"I don't think so." She finally settles on, turning completely towards Lizzie. "I mean - you're feelings are real, right? No matter what caused them, so I don't think you're making it up. At all. Just, you know, you need time to figure out why it sucks so much this time."

Europe is different in many ways and it's almost exactly what Hope needs. She started out in the States, hopping on buses and trains to see as much of the country as she can. She can appreciate it more when there's no urgency behind the trip, and she's not racing to try and save someone's life. Hope travels up the western seaboard, carefully skirting around Portland and the history it holds, before setting off for a tour of Asia.

Almost ten months later, and she's ended up in Italy, along the Amalfi Coast and not for the first time, Hope wonders whether she deserves... any of this. She hasn't been bothered in weeks, each day blending into the next, and it seems too good to be true. It makes her paranoid. It's become a pattern for her, to start to feel like she's able to relax and then she snaps back into hyper-vigilance, waiting for the other shoe to drop. So far, there's been nothing but false alarms, no ambushes or familiar faces in sight.

This time, it's different. She decides to go back to the little villa she's been renting, stops by a small market for a bottle of wine and some food, and to practice her middling Italian. There's still a slight anxious tingle at the back of her mind, and it's just enough to set her on edge. There's a blonde woman with her back to Hope on the street corner, and Hope pauses. She has stopped looking for Lizzie's face in every blonde she passes, knowing it's mostly a product of her regret and guilt for everything she's done. How she's still hurting her by running like this. She just needed time but it appears that the universe has gotten tired of her shit.