As evening began to set in, I remained engrossed in my flower room. Though I had eaten a few times, my intention for the day was to dedicate as much time as possible to creating arrangements, so that I would later have more freedom to spend my time elsewhere.
My dress had to be put away. It was carefully cleaned with a few spells and then tucked into the storage room designated for fancy clothing. Each of us females had been assigned our own racks, and the dresses were chosen for us. This was a source of amusement for them, and they were unsure if dress-up days would become a weekly event, as these dresses needed to be kept pristine, free from baby spit or other messes.
I began humming under my breath, with my playlist on, as I crafted arrangements and bouquets based on specific themes. The girls had come up with various themes, such as light, dark, autumn, and so on, and they requested five or more bouquets for each category, keeping me quite busy. My current theme was darkness, and I was working on a large arrangement featuring black hollyhocks, black tulips, dark orange gerberas, dark blue dyed roses, and a few other flowers.
"Mimi, my love, what do you want me to do with these?" Wulfe's voice inquired.
He had joined me, having finished the laundry, and was now free to spend time with me. Concurrently, in my special section, there were five racks of houseplants, both flowering and green varieties, which we hadn't fully unloaded yet. Wulfe was now sorting them, and he had also created a few more tables where he was placing them for easier watering and maintenance.
We hadn't even begun to sort through our findings yet, as the racks had been hidden away. It was Wulfe who, out of curiosity, had opened them and started the sorting process. Now, he showed me a Saintpaulia, a fancy variety with ruffled flowers and variegated leaves.
"Take five leaves," I suggested, "let's propagate more. Get some small pots, the planting mixture, and put those leaves in. These might be more expensive, but they'll also sell better, so let's build up our stock."
He agreed, saying, "Okay, I'll get lots of pots ready, as there seem to be several fancy varieties here."
I could sense him delving into my knowledge of plant varieties and their prices, understanding which ones would be more profitable to stock.
However, he had also mentioned my plants to Charles, who planned to visit the shop tomorrow to assess what we could display. Charles was unsure if we could fit more tables or what was currently selling well. Nevertheless, he intended to take some of my creations with him in the morning to gauge the situation. He would, of course, price them first.
Meanwhile, Wulfe was crafting fancy nameplates for each plant, content with the opportunity to spend time with me. He busily prepared the planting pots, humming along to my music while I focused on my own work.
I was engrossed in my creation when, to my surprise, the door opened and Mariella walked in. Dressed in her usual attire, chosen by Damon, she appeared irritated and tense.
"I know you talked to Damon," she declared to me, "He's all over the place, and I'm not in the mood for his arrogance right now. What on earth did you say to him? He seems to think he's king of the world and has nothing to apologize for."
I replied, "Yes, we talked. He was a bit confused about the whole situation and your argument. I just pointed out a few things, but Damon being Damon, well, he's one damn arrogant bastard."
I kept my tone carefully controlled, yet hinted at something more, making Mariella curious about my meaning.
Wulfe chimed in mentally, "What are you planning, my unicorn? You have something in mind; care to share?"
I responded telepathically through our shared hivemind, "I do, but no, I'm not telling you yet. Let's see if you want to be a part of it."
Wulfe's reply was, "I doubt that, Mimi, my love. This is what I want: to be with you, hang with you, sing with you."
Mariella asked me, "Mimi, erhm, do you have any insights about Damon, or what's your impression of him?"
I smiled and replied, "Well, remember, as I've said, it's not always wise to follow my lead, but sometimes you can. What would I do in a situation like this, if I were pissed off with Damon?"
She pursed her lips and thought for a while, her hands restless as she wrung a piece of satin cord she'd picked up from my table. Over and over, her fingers twisted the cord as she pondered my words, her brow furrowed. Wulfe was busy, taking leaves from fancy versions and popping them into the soil.
Finally, Mariella said, "You would rough him up, right? I'm not sure that's my style..." Her gaze was hesitant. She was not the violent type, as I was from time to time.
I suggested, "Challenge him, and a few other Salvatores. Take them to spin at the gym, let it all out. Sometimes, ya know, physical action is needed. Make him work for it; don't be easy. Show him your spunk. Lemme give you a bit of motivation."
I unleashed a burst of my frustration, my powers, and my irritation, along with a set of new moves. These moves, which hadn't worked particularly well on me because I was tiny, could be effective for her; she was taller and had the physique to make them work. A predatory smile spread across her face, a smugness that caught Wulfe's attention.
He said to Mariella, "How about this, Princess? You, your partner in crime, and I can fight together against a few Salvatores. Let's make them sweat." His voice was now an almost dangerous purr.
Mariella's smile widened even further.
As she stood there, still contemplating how she would handle Damon and what the outcome might be, I told her, "See, my stance on promises is a bit twisted. I never actually promise anything, and there's a reason for it. When you make a promise, you create a trap for yourself, a prison of sorts."
Wulfe glanced at me and remarked, "Yeah, you trap yourself with that promise, bind yourself by it. I understand that."
I nodded. Mariella remained silent, but her mind was clearly working.
"You promised Damon you'd always understand him, that he'd come first, no matter what," I explained. "This created a space within you, walls that prevented you from breaking that promise, meaning no one else could ever be more important than him. No other Salvatore could ever mean the same to you, regardless of what was revealed. You were imprisoned by that promise, bending over backward to understand Damon, always siding with him, never judging, no matter what shit he told about his past."
Mariella sighed. "Yeah, I get it. But right now, I just don't feel like trying to find the damn reasoning behind what he did."
I nodded, but Wulfe spoke before I could. "It's because Reddington dismantled those walls. They're no longer protecting you, trapping you, or giving you that sense of security. They dictated how you functioned, how you kept that promise, and that's what's confusing you. You're truly free for the first time in your life. You have no obligation to choose number one, no obligation to understand him, and you can react to his horror stories however you want, not how your promise dictated."
Mariella's eyes lit up. "Yeah, you're right! And now that I'm free, I can choose whoever I want and do whatever I like. Now, I—no, *we*—are going to show those arrogant Salvatores what we're made of!"
I had completely turned her around.
"My unicorn, your plan?" Wulfe's voice echoed in my mind.
I simply smiled, not bothering to answer as Mariella hurried Wulfe to gather his things. It was time for her to properly rile Damon up.
As they left, eager and ready, I continued my own arrangements. I had a few more things to finalize, and my tools were prepped, so everything was nearly ready for them. While my hands worked, my mind wandered.
Grabbing a large black rose, a reminder of my past, I began to analyze myself. I am, after all, a complex creature, but also a very dangerous one. I possess so much power that it compelled Damon to invent extraordinary measures just to contain me in case of emergencies. I couldn't fault his logic; my past had shown me those precautions were indeed wise.
I possessed a white-hot, supernatural rage, a power forged in my mind long ago. It was more than mere emotion; it was a potent force that could enhance my physical attributes and other abilities. However, if unleashed, it would transform me into a soulless killing machine, indiscriminately killing anyone I perceived as having wronged me. When fully unleashed, this rage would render me utterly uncontrollable, or perhaps, beyond the need for control due to its overwhelming intensity.
I had previously demonstrated to Damon on a few occasions just how incredibly dangerous I could be when my rage surfaced. This led him to implement a few small measures to control me, ensuring he could manage me in extreme situations if necessary. However, what complicated matters further was the Salvatores', including Damon's, ability to actually consume my rage; they found it to be quite delicious. Unfortunately, they couldn't consume it quickly enough to render me harmless, so additional measures were required.
To manage this volatile power, Damon devised a unique solution: a new biological organ, essentially a reservoir connected to my abdominal aorta and lungs. This organ synthesizes sedatives from my blood, a feature genetically engineered into my DNA. This raised a peculiar question: if it's in my genes, would my offspring inherit it?
In addition to this sedative organ, I wore a biological collar around my neck, embedded within my tissues. This collar delivered electric shocks, as electricity was the only thing capable of curbing my rage. These measures served as backups, intended for situations where enemies or unforeseen circumstances might cause me to lose control.
In such scenarios, external intervention would be necessary. A few jolts from my collar, coupled with ample doses from my sedative organ, would swiftly calm me, potentially restoring my control or rendering me unconscious and thus harmless.
Beyond my rage, I possessed other powers, and my mind, though strong, had its vulnerabilities. My most significant weakness was my perfect recall, meaning any painful memory could resurface, allowing me to feel every pang of agony I had ever experienced acutely.
To safeguard me from this tormenting past, Damon, the other Salvatores, and Wulfe and Lepard, all telepaths, acted as my protectors. Wulfe, in particular, had woven powerful spells within my mind. These spells targeted specific sensations and feelings, and if they arose, his magic would either isolate them beyond my access, flag them, or remove them entirely, ensuring they no longer plagued me. He, along with the Salvatores, fiercely protected me.
In my past, despite being around for a long time, I remained a highly sought-after subject in certain unsavory medical circles. This past, though, left me with a significant pile of very bad memories. My mind, however, was strong, and I had created mental vaults where I pushed away all the unpleasantness.
Yet, from time to time, something, even a mere hint, would surface, making my protectors extremely alert and determined to eliminate that particular nastiness. Consequently, even though I was a killer, a dangerous creature, I was also the most protected one in our pack. This was something I struggled with because, for most of my life, I had relied on myself and my own strength to escape and heal.
But now, everything had changed, and change was something I, personified chaos, couldn't handle very well. I was literal chaos, possessing my own chaotic power, which meant I brought unpredictability to the game. With me involved, plans could go awry, or unexpected events might occur. My pack had learned to live with this, as they too had gained their own share of chaos powers from me.
Many thoughts swirled in my mind as I finally completed my last bouquet and cleaned my workplace. I let out a sigh, realizing I had accomplished a lot that day, and it felt good. I was tired, and a long, restful sleep throughout the night seemed truly in order.
A few hours earlier, around 1 AM, I had noticed that Mariella had joined Wulfe, as well as number one, the pack leader, and a few other Salvatores in bed. This was precisely my intention, as I had been quite sly. I had detected their pheromones a few days prior, sensing that salvatores two, four, five, and eight had some plan for me.
I suspected it might involve an attempt to cleanse my powers, which would be difficult, painful, and something I had no interest in. Therefore, I presented them with a more appealing target: Mariella, pumped up with attitude, power, and a few impressive moves honed by time spent in the gym. It was easy to see that lust wizards would know how to shift her mood from aggressive to lustful, and as they say, make-up sex is the best.
Some might call this manipulation, but for me, it was simply me, the alpha female, taking care of my pack. And, of course, it was also for my own benefit, as I desired some personal time without the persistent pack leader wannabe hovering around and trying to push my buttons. Life was far too enjoyable to let Damon ruin it for me.
I was confident in my abilities and had no qualms about arranging the pack to function as I envisioned. I believed this setup was superior, allowing Damon and Mariella to rekindle, perhaps both embarking on a path of self-learning. Wulfe was showing his valuable experience, demonstrating to Damon how to manage Mariella and for the other Salvatores. They were quite cunning, having discreetly taken a few of the girls with them for their amusement.
However, the true test would be whether they would actually proceed to cleanse their powers, Alpha powers, and energies. This process would undoubtedly take time, but despite its impact on a portion of the pack, I excelled at organizing and optimizing tasks, prioritizing effectively.
I eagerly anticipated how our splendid future would unfold. Feeling incredibly smug, I walked to my bedroom, not the sanctified one, but another I had decorated, giving me options. Life, indeed, was quite good.