#starterta

Time was supposed to heal wounds.  Time was supposed to keep the voices-her father's voice-from circulating through her head.  It was supposed to keep her from remembering the sizzle of her skin in that dungeon, the way she had given up and accepted that her father couldn't fix her, couldn't fix the monster she had become.  But it was years later, the anniversary of the day her father tortured her, and it still felt like no time had passed.

               ” all this talk about soul searching and finding                 yourself and not once ! did you mention that                 you found yourself a girlfriend --- i'm hurt. “

okay, so  'soul searching' and 'finding themselves' never really made it into routine conversation, but she had to make her point somehow. melodrama was as good a way as any. she grins, arms crossed.

                  expression expectant. " welllll --- ? spill. " 

   She was happy. God dammit, she'd had a good time. Airiana had gotten the chance to live out all of her Cinderella fantasies (if she'd had any in the first place). She got to sip fancy champagne, wear sparkly silver jewels, dance with her beloved uncle, and had gotten the chance to entertain a seriously a m a z i n g date. 

   It was good.

   Until something had to go wrong.

   Inevitably, something always goes wrong. There could never be a day that went by without some sort of supernatural dilemma. And who was the cause? The motherfucking dynamic duo     The arrogant, stupid, recently resurrected, inconsiderate alcoholic vampires. The two people she could count on to ruin the night.

   Airiana was angry. Oh hell, was she angry. She wanted a drink and that sparkling champagne had barely made a dent in her sobriety which she desperately needed to shake. She was still wearing her sharp silver heels that dug scars into her feet and there was a certain unlit fury to a girl wearing heels for too long that made a person a little extra cautious. She was dangerously close to igniting, and she knew exactly who she needed to light the fuse.

   He could've died.

   Both of them could've died.

   Didn't they know what happened last time? Didn't they get that Elena couldn't loose anyone else? Didn't they understand that the last time someone died on her she was left with nothing but empty bottles and tears on the bathroom floor? God, what on earth were they thinking? How could he betray her like that? 

   Ripping open the door, her eyes scanned the room fiercly searching for at least one of those two assholes to scream at. "You." She growled lowly, slamming the door shut behind her and throwing her things to the side harshly. Of course it had to be Damon. The one that had the highest probability of killing her. Airiana didn't underestimate Damon. She was respectful of the boundaries he drew, recognized that he could destroy her in seconds flat and live with himself afterwards. She respected the power he had over her but he'd crossed the line and shattered the unspoken rules. Now, she didn't care what happened. If her bones were broken, if her throat was constricted, if her blood was drawn     she was angry. And she didn't care.