Elena Gilbert

Elena sleeps restfully - or as restful as she can in the early daylight hours, with nothing to force her out of bed as she curls into warmth and comfort of an unfamiliar bed. When she wakes up, though, it's a different story. There's that daze, that confusion of opening her eyes to a room she doesn't recall, one that looks different with less shadows, and Elena blearily blinks, sits up gradually, cards fingers through her sleep-mussed hair and glances around as the events of the last several hours come trickling back to her consciousness, her memory playing back and making her grin with mild embarrassment at the recollections.

The weight of an arm rests low across her hips and she turns, swiveling just slowly enough so that she doesn't disturb the person sleeping next to her. Elijah. The memories replay again, his face the prominent addition, and she compares his expressions then with the one now, peaceful in sleep. She reaches out to sweep hair back from his forehead, a feather-light touch. He almost looks innocent, young in sleep - real sleep, not the kind initiated by a dagger lodged in his chest.

It makes something twist inside her - something that she tries to ignore for now, instead glancing around and trying to figure out what time it is. It's still the middle of the day if the clock at Elijah's bedside is any indication, but she's dying for a shower, and so she gently extricates herself from his hold, tiptoeing on bare feet into the bathroom to start running the hot water.