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.
HISTORY ( which can also be found here ).
orphaned and unaware of who his family were. he was easy pickings for the workhouse at age four only to find himself on the streets by fourteen fighting for scraps to survive. several years of working odd jobs just to get by and he’d find himself willing to do just about anything. chimney sweeping, selling newspapers or shining the shoes of middle and upper class men who did nothing but turn their nose up at poor orphan boys trying to find their way.
...several years later...
it’s no surprise that the poor orphan boy, now a man, would be dying of consumption. trying to find his way onto a ship to new york only to be denied passage because scum and disease shook hands in the eyes of others....except ONE. lily salvatore saved him took him to see a doctor who was no more than a charaton in her effort to aid him a way of getting onto the ship and fed him her blood. as the ship reached it’s harbor enzo died and awoke in transition to a ship dead, all except the doctor. HE TURNED AND FELT HIMSELF ABANDONED BY YET ANOTHER.
WWII
he felt it easier to forget and to do good, he took it on himself to fight with the troupes in eastern europe during the war. call it the heightened desire to do better and be good, only to find himself in the clutches of AUGUSTINE. shipped back to america in a container, he found himself forced to endure torture for TEN YEARS by the augustine society; he eventually became nothing more than a labrat, a specimen available for use. he found himself with feelings for maggie who took notes regarding his behaviour, only to later compel her memories about him away. forgetting him was supposed to be better for her --- give her a life.
by 1953 he had a cellmate, damon salvatore became a friend and an ear. he found himself harboring trust for the other vampire, willingly giving up his supply of blood for a year so that he would be strong enough to break them both out. of course that went up in flames...LITERALLY and enzo was left to continue suffering until he eventually found a way out himself.
PRESENT
cade defeated, sirens dealt with and the hand of your friends brother ends it all...or that’s how it should’ve gone.
enzo certainly recalls the hand in his chest and the feeling of dying but rather than blissfully teetering off into the afterlife, he found himself in reprieve.
he’s unsure if it’s hell or a nice humble saving grace but either way catch him mildly concerned that last second saviors don’t always work out so well...he’s had experience with that one too many times.
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