The boat rocked gently as it drifted over clear blue water. Behind the boat, lay one island, ahead another, and in the boat itself sat Christina Lightwood. Her dainty wrists were tied so tightly together with a rope that blood dripped down slowly onto the white sea-washed boards of the little row-boat. Part of the illusion. She told herself through the pain, but still- Did Portia have to tie it that tight? In front of her, sat Clinton, her brother, rowing the boat for her. His eyes never left her as he rowed her to what could possibly be her death, and Christina found that if she looked up and met his emerald gaze, there was a startling amount of distaste there. So she kept her aqua gaze on the bottom of the boat and her blood.
As she always did when thinking deeply, Christina ran her tongue along her top row of teeth, feeling the two unusually sharp fangs there. Those two fangs were probably going to get her killed. But she had to do it. Portia, Clinton, and the other vampires would be counting on her. She'd be able to prove herself to her siblings and possibly win acceptance into their tight partnership. She glanced at Clinton again quickly before looking back down. Still the hateful green eyes. Why? What had she ever done? She had to be brave and do it. No other vampire could spin a lie quite like her. At this, a sly smile came to her lips for she knew Portia had always been jealous of her ability to change personalities in an instant in order to pull of a scam. It made her untrustworthy, but surely she wasn't anywhere near as bad as Portia? The thought of her sister made her wince slightly. Wicked, horrible, but beautiful Portia. Even if you were her friend, you never knew if she'd stab you in the back. This was all her idea.
"This is as far as I can take you Chris." Clinton's voice brought her back to the surface of her own mind and Christina looked up at him. No goodbye. He'd just rowed his baby sister to the shore of her death and no goodbye. That was why her task was so important. She had to gain their trust. Christina looked past him at the shore of the werewolf island and fear caught her momentarily. She was to be a spy. Clinton was supposed to row her near the shore and then throw her off the boat as if he were banishing her. Then she was supposed to work her way into the wolves lives and feed the vampires secrets. An extremely deadly task. But Christina was ready. "Pleeeeeease do it sis?" She remembered Portia's pleading voice. "No one else can lie like you. Hell, you could make someone think their own blood was wine." And feeling wanted by her sister felt so good, Cristy had had no choice but to accept. And now here she was.
As Clinton rose, ready to put on their little charade in case anyone was watching (though the beach looked empty) Christina knew this was it. She had to pull off her con perfectly or the werewolves would kill her instantly. There was no doubt about it. In the next second, conjured up tears rolled down her cheeks and she worked herself up into fake hysterics. "No! Clinton no! Please, please please!" She heaved in a dry sob and shook her head wildly as if afraid of the island. "Shut up!" Her brother ordered, slapping her hard across the face and yanking her to her feet. The boat rocked dangerously and Christina's sobs rose an octave. "I'm sorry!" She shrieked, and was rewarded by a sharp shove, throwing her face first into the cold water.
Her mouth filled with salty water from her sobbing and she choked, struggling to stand with her hands still bound behind her back. Wouldn't it be ironic if they'd planned all this out, and she drowned before she even reached the island? But she was able to get on her feet weakly again as her knees shook, the waves coming in and out pulled and pushed her about, threatening to send her back into the water. Clinton was already halfway back to the island of vampires where her sister waited on the shore. Sobbing still, Christina began to make her way towards the beach. It was hard work, staying upright, her body was continually pushed and pulled by the waves, and sometimes a big one would come and she'd fall back into the water. Why the fuck are the ropes necessary? Do they have any idea how hard it is to swim to shore with no arms?! She cursed her siblings in her head. Though it added to her pitiful, victim-type look.
When she finally reached the soft sand, Christina let herself drop to her knees and sit there for a second, sobbing and looking around the island in fright, as if every little sound made her jump. It was an excellent display she was putting on. "Don't talk to anyone but the leader Chrissy. Don't accept any of them unless they threaten to kill you. We need you out there." Portia's departing words bounced around in her mind. Sad that her sister's last words to her weren't words of worry or encouragement. No. They were meant to keep her alive only because they "needed her."
Finally standing, Christina continued her crying as she stumbled down the beach towards where she knew the mansion was, as well as, the arriving group of werewolves and their leader Cedric. Cedric please be merciful. She willed in her head as she cried. Her crying was spot on and so was her look. Now all she needed was Cedric's approval. As she walked towards figures she could now make out, Christina's caramel-colored hair dripped water down her back and she tripped over a rock, accidentally coating her wet body with sand. At least she looked pitiful. Even if it was annoying to trip every ten seconds. Stading she started again, her crying becoming a little softer. The figures were now individual shapes. Inside her chest, Christina's heart pounded so loud she was sure the whole world could hear it.
OOC: First post for Christina, I'll put an individual post from, both, Portia & Clinton on my next one. Not much time right now. I didn't really have time to read over everything specifically though so if there's something off about it like locations or time, please just work around it. Hope it's good (: