we must live in balance

Time  bent  in  strange,  uncomfortable  ways  these  days—like  walking  through  a  house  you  used  to  live  in  only  to  find  the  furniture  all  rearranged  and  the  walls  painted  in  colors  you  don’t  recognize.  Conversations  felt  like  déjà  vu  stretched  too  thin.  Faces  blurred  between  past  and  present,  and  half  the  time,  Rebekah  wasn’t  sure  if  the  person  in  front  of  her  remembered  what  she  did…  or  hadn’t  even  lived  it  yet.

It  had  become  a  kind  of  twisted  guessing  game:  Which  version  are  you?  Past,  future,  or  some  cosmic  joke  in  between?  Most  days,  she  was  losing.  Badly.And  yet—sometimes—there  were  moments  like  this.  When  a  voice  hit  her  like  a  stray  arrow,  sharp  and  sudden.  When  a  face  she  hadn’t  expected  to  see  again  pulled  itself  out  of  the  fog  of  memory.  Someone  long  gone  in  her  timeline.  The  rules  of  this  new  reality  were  as  merciless  as  they  were  unclear.

The  voice  hit  first.  Low.  Familiar  in  a  way  that  sank  beneath  her  ribs  before  she  even  turned.  A  face  she  hadn’t  expected  to  see  outside  of  memory—or  nightmare.  For  a  second,  she  just  stood  there,  letting  it  settle.  Letting  herself  wonder  if  this  was  another  trick  of  this  fractured  timeline.

“You  know  what  they  say…  flowers  survive  even  the  harshest  winters.  Always  find  a  way  to  grow  back.”  A  breath,  a  beat,  her  gaze  distant  for  half  a  second  too  long.  “I  had  a  brother  once…  he  used  to  weave  them  into  my  hair  like  it  meant  something.”

and, if the truth was you weren't real at all, was it even fair to approach those who once dared to love you? those you dared to love? a fictional or created feeling or whatnot, the affection felt in your very bones felt too true to deny it. you'd admit that this simple want could be called selfishness, that your wanting could cause true pain to the ones you loved most.

you chose to do it anyway. from all the initiative had allowed you to know about your family (and you still were certain there was so much they withheld, they didn't do honesty, only their version of history dressed in pretty lies or ugly truths) your family had become bolden in their vampirism. they took what they wanted without affliction, they discarded rules of the world around them and so truly-- why should you be any better? mikaelson was still your name, regardless of all else.

"when it's put like that," you began. "they sound more like weeds." a swift pause, thoughts resting on the comparison. "not to say weeds couldn't be lovely. i'd often mistake them, i suppose even now-- i think they are something quite lovely. for all they are pulled they remain resilient. such a trait should be appreciated, if not envied, even." you found your hands folding behind your back, the nerves you tried to bury starting to prickle once more, your hands squeezed their counterpart with fervor. "hadn't it?" you asked, you recalled trying so hard to keep your lovely sister's hair lovely. you'd loved being useful, and more then that you loved making her smile. it meant something to you.

it hadn't been a question you expected, but it brought a fondness to you all the same. your sister never faltered in the face of most anything, such thing hadn't changed at all, it appeared. "i'm certain a far shorter then time then it'd been for yourself. the age i appear is what i am, more or less." the accuracy was to be questioned with the initiative at the helm, of course. there was very little they could be trusted in, besides being absolute holier-then-thou assholes, that is.

he  blinked,  taken  off  kilter  just  staring  at  the  hand  that  took  the  cup.  then  slowly  at  the  face  that  followed  it.  too  familiar  in  ways  that  made  the  back  of  his  neck  run  cold.  “…hendrik?”  his  voice  was  almost  a  whisper. his  coffee  was  still  in  hand.  untouched,  forgotten.  you  could  tell  he  wanted  to  laugh.  out  of  shock,  out  of  habit.  all  that  came  was  a  shaky  exhale.  “well,”  he  finally  spoke,  the  words  feeling  tight  in  his  throat.  “either  i’ve  finally  lost  it  or  you’ve  got  a  hell  of  a  lot  of  explaining  to  do.”

the memory and even the mention of him brought forth feelings of unpleasantness. any recollection of the man who had brought you home as a babe laid with an unpleasant feeling you'd rather avoid if at all possible. "it'd been foolish of me," you reflected. "to get attached to what was- essentially, a mean's to an end." such difficulty was something you still struggled with, the ability to detach yourself from others. "he had been wretched," you remarked, and the memory brought forth a fond feeling. "he'd taken my tooth and so i took his." a good right hook that you still felt proud of even thousands of years after the fact. "i'd feared you'd be disappointed in me, then." now.

“no,”  he  spoke.  “no,  no,  you  don’t  get  to  do  that.  you  don’t  get  to  say  everything  i  ever  fucking  wanted  to  hear  then  say  i  shouldn’t  have  come  back?  i  shouldn’t  have  protected  you?”  he  laughed.  cold.  confused.  “what  the  hell  is  that,  stefan?  what  kind  of  apology  is  that?” something  was  wrong.  off.  stefan’s  voice  didn’t  carry  the  same  weight.  but  then  his  stomach  dropped.  because  that  was  the  thing,  wasn’t  it?  that  wasn’t  stefan.  not  his  stefan.  he  replayed  it.  the  way  he  talked.   the  fucking  detachment  in  his  voice.  the  way  he  was  looking  at  him.

and  his  eyes.  fuck.  his  eyes.

damon  had  looked  into  those  eyes  a  thousand  times.  when  they  were  human.  when  they  were  vampires.  when  stefan  had  his  humanity  off.  when  he  was  begging  for  forgiveness.  when  he  was  promising  to  be  better.  this  time?  they  were  guarded.  hollow.  for  the  first  time  since  1864,  damon  didn’t  know  if  that  was  his  brother.  not  really.  not  all  the  way.  his  face  paled,  just  slightly.

“no.  no,  something’s  wrong.  something’s  not—”  he  pressed  a  hand  to  stefan’s  chest.  not  to  comfort  him.  not  to  hurt  him.  just  to  feel.  it  was  like  he  could  feel  the  shift  right  there  in  his  younger  brother’s  ribs.  stefan’s  own  breathing  was  betraying  him.  something  was  cracking  inside  him,  he  could  feel  it.

and  damon?  he  was  beginning  to  unravel.  his  throat  burned.  he  was  scared  if  he  blinked  too  much  the  tears  forming  in  his  eyes  would  fall  but  he  refused.  he  wasn’t  about  to  break.  not  first.  not  now.  at  least,  not  yet.  he was  done  screaming.  done  beating  around  the  bush.  done  playing  this  game  of  ignoring  the  obvious.  it  wasn’t  just  the  truth  he  wanted  anymore.  he  wanted  his  brother  back.  “where  the  fuck  were  you,  stefan?!  you’re  different,  you’re  off.  weird.  cold.  not  your  usual  guilt  bullshit,”  his  voice  almost  broke.  “you  think  i  don’t  notice?!”

you failed him.

not for the first time and far from the last. you lives were intertwined until one of them ended, for better or for worse. then here he was again, playing the part and choosing the noose around his neck for your sake yet again. for as long as you stood by his side the pattern would remain endlessly. he could promise misery but even without the truth reflected back at you-- you knew he couldn't deliver. whether by choice or by instinct, he never stood a chance.

the hand on your chest came with a full body flinch, you'd been too caught in your own mind to prevent the reaction preemptively. "i'm-- i'm sorry damon." you felt like a broken record, scratching the same screech again and again, incapable of actually playing the tune you were desperately trying to sing.

"---i," it would be added to damon's list of failures that you knew your brother piled up even when he pretended otherwise. for all armor that tried to tell the world otherwise, you knew who he was before he donned it. you'd always been something careless with your brother, letting yourself believe his façade even when you knew better. for all you knew his façade he knew yours, and so you owed him the honest truth even if it was painful to admit. "i can't do this."

you knew better then to use vampire speed in public but, even if magic wasn't apparent in the city, you'd have done it anyway. sped away from him. run away. silas had been the one who stripped you of the armor you wore so similarly to your brother, it was far past time you'd begun to rebuild.

@balanceisblind 🔒 the  rooftop  was  her  safe  space.  kind  of.  not  legally  or  magically  protected  or  anything,  but  no  one  ever  came  up  here. which  made  it  feel  like  hers.  that  counted  for  something.  she  had  her  speaker  playing  a  weirdly  emotional  indie  playlist. a  few  cracked  crystals  lined  up  like  soldiers  in  front  of  her  and  the  moonlight  was  perfect.  until  it  wasn’t.  a  shadow  moved  across  her  spellwork.  she  didn’t  even  look  up.  just  sighed,  dramatically.  “you’re  blocking  the  moonlight.  and  my  vibe.  which  is  honestly  the  bigger  crime.”

silence.  and  he  still  didn’t  move.  bold.

“this  is  a  very  delicate  process,”  she  added,  hands  gesturing  vaguely  at  the  crystals.  she  was  ready  to  be  meaner  but  stopped.  “oh,  wait!  oh  my  god.  i  know  you.”  she  pointed  at  him  like  she’d  just  remembered  the  answer  on  a  pop  quiz.  “you’re  stefan  salvatore.”

she  tilted  her  head.  already  annoyed.  already  over  it. “your  brother  sucks,  by  the  way.  like,  historically.  he  was  a  total  jerk  to  my  mom  in  high  school.  stalker  vibes.  gaslight-y.  very  mid.”  she  narrowed  her  eyes.  and  you?  what’s  your  deal,  grandpa  twilight?  guilt  complex  or  just  here  to  ruin  my  moonlight  with  your  tragic  sad  vibes?”  she  blinked.  “you  look  like  someone  who  spends  a  lot  of  time  convincing  themselves  they  should  be  alone.”  her  words  hung  there.  a  little  too  honest.  little  too  sharp.  “i  mean,  that’s  good  if  you  want  that.”

each time you thought about the fear that swallowed you whole you felt all the more pathetic. you needed to buy a new journal. maybe writing some of those feelings out would help deplete them, or at least dull how loud they screamed.

she'd spotted you before you her, and didn't that just say so much about how into your mind you were trapped, the lack of awareness would only be aid to silas once you encountered him. "this might sound insane," you began dryly. "but you could always move around me." there was a plethora of moonlight hitting around them just as well as the spot you stood. "you do?" an arched brow, for all paranoid you were about everyone you knew the fact you didn't know her made you almost certain she wasn't silas in disguise.

that explains it. damon happened to make a mark on people the moment he opened his mouth, for better or for worse. usually the latter. "yeah so i don't know half the words you just said." objectively you knew the meanings but she was using them in odd context as something resembling slang. it could be simply newer, you didn't take care to stay up to date after all. caroline might know, you'd have to ask her. "you're either very intuitive or know a lot more about me then just my name," you felt far more confident in her having already known his history then taking a guess. "trust me when i say i don't need too much convincing." it was something you'd learned long ago, and something you kept neglecting to what was ultimately the detriment to all around you.

"stefan." you breathe his name out alongside that last bit of uncertain anxiety making its home in you, your fingers finding his bicep and dragging @balanceisblind back into his own room with you ⸻ you're certain this time that you weren't followed, made sure of it, yet still you can't risk lingering in the hall with him. still you'll be damned before you leave him exposed with you out there, where anyone might catch more of that alleged happiness in you. the intensity of your stare digs into stefan's features, searching. "have you been followed lately? have you spoken to anyone? strangers? has anything unusual happened since we last spoke?"

more then once since your encounter did you look back on the memory as if it could have been a dream, the only confirmation of otherwise was the shirt he had left you with. you still had it neatly folded in your new dresser at the hyperion hotel. instead of bringing it back to him you had tucked it away beneath all the other new things you had recently purchased. while it was true that klaus had plenty of others, that was far from the reason you kept it. "no more then the usual." which was a shitload, but that was typical for you both. you'd seen klaus paranoid and irate before but this felt far different somehow from what you'd known in the past. once upon a time it would have been called bravery to lay your hand upon his shoulder as you did, that time was long ago. such time was long gone, and you knew no fear as you squeezed his shoulder as if the touch was proof i'm okay. "what's going on klaus?"

Bonnie  felt  lost.  Stuck  in  an  endless  feeling  of  deja  vu,  yet  also  not  knowing  where  this  would  end.  People  who  should  feel  familiar  ...  that  were  familiar  once,  now  almost  seemed  like  strangers.  How  was  she  supposed  to  keep  neutral  ...  to  stay  normal  when  the  people  in  front  of  her  didn't  know  half  of  the  things  that  were  still  to  come.  Or  even  if  they  were  still  coming,  maybe  they  were  lucky  and  wouldn't  live  through  it  all.

She  wasn't  proud  of  it,  but  a  small  part  of  her  didn't  think  that  was  fair.  However,  good  memories  and  long-cherished  bonds  ultimately  prevailed.  But  it  probably  did  paint  a  pretty  pathetic  version  of  herself  to  the  outside  world.  Which  is  perhaps  why  the  question  came  in  the  first  place.

you listened as she spoke, giving a smooth nod of your head. "even those we think we know in and out, for all we know we're only skimming the surface." at least, whats what you assumed she meant. all too many compatriots of yours have shown themselves, typically, to be far less then what you once thought of them with seldom exception. ultimately just the single one, and even angel had his more difficult moments. "quite honestly being surprised by ones self happens more then one would think. a great many are capable of more then they think themselves, for better or for worse."

but you couldn't help but be somewhat amused by her question, given how much los angeles had recently changed. "quite honestly i believe we're well past anything at all sounding crazy."

she  turned,  slow.  blinking  like  she  hadn’t  heard  right.  like  this was maybe  some  kind  of  hallucination  conjured  from  this  hell  of  a  city  she  was  trapped  in.  but  no.  there  they  were.  a  stranger.  just… saying  it. like  it  was  nothing.  her  laugh  was  sharp.  wrong.  “wow,  okay.  hi.  nice  to  meet  you  too,  apparently.”  she  paused.  her  hands  clenched  at  her  sides  before  she  stuffed  them  into  her  coat  pockets.  “is  this  a  thing  now?  people  just…  walk  up  and  make  cryptic  comments  about  my  impending  doom?  because  if  it  is,  i  need  coffee  first.”  she  meant  to  leave  it  at  that.  keep  it  light.  brush  it  off.  but  something  about  the  way  they  were  still looking at  her,  like  they  saw  through  all  the  layers.  “…you’re  not  wrong,  by  the  way,”  she  said,  quieter  now.  almost  to  herself.  “happy  now?”

For  a  moment,  Rebekah  said  nothing.

The  voice—light  and  fractured  as  broken  glass—hit  first.  Then  the  shape  of  her.  The  silhouette  of  a  girl  she  hadn’t  seen  in  years.  Hadn’t  expected  to  see  again.  Shouldn’t  have.  Not  like  this.

Her  body  stilled,  her  mind  didn’t.  It  raced.

Dru. She  blinked  once,  twice.  The  room  hadn’t  changed.  The  walls  still  buzzed  faintly  with  electricity,  neon  bleeding  into  night  through  the  window  behind  her.  But  everything  else  had  tilted.  Because  last  she  remembered,  Dru  had  crumpled  like  wet  parchment  under  her  hands—quiet,  finally,  after  so  much  storm.

Rebekah  had  been  the  one  to  close  her  eyes. And  yet  here  she  was,  looking  at  her  with  a  hollow  smile  and  too-bright  words. 

“You  always  saw  things  differently,”  Rebekah  said  softly,  carefully.  Her  eyes  lingered  on  Dru’s  face,  searching  for  some  crack  in  the  illusion—some  hint  that  this  was  a  ghost  playing  dress-up  in  memory’s  skin.

But  it  wasn’t  a  ghost. It  was  her.  Before.  A  version  untouched  by  the  end  that  Rebekah  had  helped  bring.

She  almost  didn’t  answer  the  question.  Almost  let  it  fall,  like  so  many  of  Dru’s  riddles  used  to.  But  instead,  she  tilted  her  head,  mirroring  the  gesture  with  eerie  ease.

not knowing was a strange turn of world, you were all too used to not understanding but the knowing. it wasn't usually yours, and you'd yet decided if it was something you fancied or not. in this moment it led you forward, wanting to know more even aware that knowing such thing was never in your reach.

"everything is different to see." you responded, tone quiet and with something resembling contemplation. nothing was ever the same, such thing was folly and silly. you'd never known a clean lens from which most saw the world, even as a heart beating pathetic little thing, that view had always been muddled. you'd always seen beyond your eyes, but it was seldom you lingered on what was in front of you.

you reached, fingers poised in the air but not touching. you wondered if this one saw that same dirt that clouded your version. perhaps seeing the same muddle in her own eyes, or being aware of it in yours. quite curious. "silly thing it is," you said. "any and all could melt and be worn. but gold always glitters, and all that glitters is gold." but this one was still BRIGHT. even when they said otherwise.