Getting old had been tiring, but rather breathtaking ( for lack of better words ). Her blonde hair has turned silver and grey, blue eyes misting till they no longer had carried Rebekah's vibrant shine. But for once in her life, she had not felt alone. Marcel married and by her side, their children living their lives and continue to do so long after they both are gone. She's happy, she is almost happier still as the freezing cold slips along her veins, eyes fluttering closed as Rebekah gasps for that last breath.
When she wakes again, she feels different. Better even, her body no longer has those aches and pains of her bum knee that for blown out years prior. She still doesn't open eyes right away -- she doesn't have to. Somehow Rebekah instinctively knows where she stands, the familiar cobblestone of Bourbon Street underneath her heels. She's home.
Her shoulders slump with a relieved sigh, feeling oddly at ease. When her lids finally flutter open, she sees him standing there. Rebekah smiles, trying and failing to blink back tears. "Well . . ." Her tongue darts between her lips trying to find her voice, "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes"
@privushybrid ⚜ gets an afterlife starter
