𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍

Hope’s hand stops just above the doorknob.      ❝ Lizzie … ❞       the name falls off her lips sounding like a prayer at this point.  Hope turns on her heels to look at the other when they mention being unable to sleep.       ❝ I -  ❞       this is the moment where Hope could just walk away.  Could go lay in her bed until the night turns into early morning but she can’t.

❝ Have you ever been to a drive in diner at around midnight ? ❞It is an idea that pops into her head the longer that she stares at the blonde unable to find words to tell the other to just go to bed.  They had a long day of dealing with the quarter’s unrest and problems that always seem to pop up.  Lizzie had to be well rested as Hope doesn’t want to deal with the version of the blonde that has not had seven hours of sleep.      ❝ Grab your shoes. We are going on a drive. ❞       Hope doesn’t waste another second as she allows the door to open.  There was no need for fancy clothes or even for her to put on shoes that weren’t black black slippers.  Just her keys and a blonde that makes her heart go pitter patter. 

WITH HOW MUCH HER LIFE HAS BEEN SPENT STIFLED WITHIN THE BOUNDARIES OF MYSTIC FALLS, SHE CAN’T SAY THAT SHE HAS. Sure, they’d had their occassional spring break trip when they had the chance but there would always be some emergency or other dragging their dad back to the school. Their last attempt had been interrupted by the infamous fire, which the responsibility she now knows rests solely on Josie’s shoulders, and their mom’s been on ‘recruitment trips’ ever since.

“Not much of a normal night life in Mystic Falls.” As much as Lizzie postured and controlled, she was still the headmaster’s daughter. the ocassional party at the Old Mill might be acceptable but there was still a standard to uphold, an image to maintain in the eyes of her fellow students and the townies of Mystic Falls. (Not that it had ever done anything for her in the end - even fake dead, they couldn’t even be bothered to mourn her. She wonders what they’d think of her now?)

“Wait, seriously?” Still, she follows onwards, barely pausing to shove her feet into the closest pair of shoes, not letting herself agonise over their suitability to her current outfit, a small bit of magic reaching out and summoning her jacket in one hand, the other instinctively reaching out for the tribrid’s.

Lizzie's hand brushes against Hope's in reaching out, which has Hope looking down to notice how close the witch truly is to her. A lump forms in Hope's throat as butterflies knock against her ribcage, and Hope swears that if she made the wrong move, the moment would be exposed, and the way that Lizzie makes her feel will just leave. Hope allows her fingers to entertain with Lizzie's after a few seconds. The warmth of Lizzie's hand in her own brings peace.

The car wasn't far away from the family home. Hope is often parked on a parking deck in the area. There wasn't much need for a car around the French Quarter, although Hope needed one to get to and from school when she still went to the Salvatore School. ❝ You'll be here for a while, darlin'. I will ensure you know this place like a local by the time you leave. ❞ Only I don't want you to leave at all. Those words weren't ready to be spoken yet.

The easy part was weaving between the crowds of people to get to where she wanted to go. Hope didn't waste any time at all. It was a good five-minute walk to get to the car that unlocked when the keys were within range. Hope drops Lizzie's hand as she leads her to the passenger seat. She reaches for the handle and opens the door, motioning for Lizzie to enter.

She's so excited that she's almost bunny hopping in place, eager and ready to get started. It's not just the idea of gaining a new favorite show, it's also the idea of spending time with a friend. That? That she can do. That she likes.

Asking questions means that Ellie would pay attention to the TV show. It also means there wouldn't be chatting during the watch, another plus in Hope's book. People yapping in the middle of anything ruins the experience, in Hope's opinion. ❝ Yeah, that's fine with me. Feel free to ask anything you want. ❞

SINUS INFECTION. It's not something that Hope is familiar with in terms of experiencing one. She had thought she had seen both Josie and Lizzie have one. She also saw Lizzie have pneumonia that was given to her by Alyssa Chang when they were building a float for witch week.

silvery paws pad their way closer, head tilting as a golden gaze lands on @felttheburden's familiar appearance-- though, not familiar by actual meetings. no, the cat would recall meeting someone emanating this sort of energy. doesn't believe it's met anyone at all similar since alice. the right alice, of course.

"your legs seem fairly sturdy in place, tripping over them seems unlikely." the tricky deep baritone of the cat's voice another trick, least some might consider it such. "but do explain how one might consider speaking creatures to correlate in any form to their sanity. sounds counterintuitive to me."

If you had asked Hope when she was seven if a talking cat would be great, she'd have said it would be amazing. But ask her now about her current predicament, and she'd say this was the worst thing ever, which made Hope slightly uncomfortable. The sketchbook had flown out of her hand in the sharp moments that she had done prior of standing up.

The cat insists that she continue with her art piece, and for some reason, the girl who dances to the beat of her drum is gathering her pencil and sketchbook off the ground. Hope had to dust some dirt off the cream-colored page, which left some blotchy colorization from Mother Earth. ❝ Ok-okay. . . I'll draw. ❞ Taking orders from a cat, she doesn't know the name of is strange. It's also out of character for her to take orders from people. Hell, Hope barely takes suggestions.

           elijah hummed at her first statement, followed by a light nod of his head. "well, for starters do not under any circumstances believe the saying 'teasing reveals affection'. that is simply an excuse for poor behavior and should not be accepted."

           "the best way is to ignore idiots around you, they are usually not worth being upset about." but is this really a piece of effective advice that could be implemented in the long run? it would at least be what was morally most sensible.

Issue a warning about the consequences of one's actions. Hope is confident that she could do that with ease. The problem for Hope was doing things that wouldn't be violent or destructive. I could always make threats. Others might assume that the threats are empty and would never come to fruition. Hope nods as a strand of auburn hair falls before her face and is pushed away.

"I know you don't want to talk about it right now," she said. "So, do you wanna just tell me their names and I'll go beat them up?" She was joking. Sort of.

The laugh that comes out is forced. Her mother knows how to at least make it funnier at the moment. Hope could only imagine her badass hybrid mother going to beat the ass of someone for hurting her kid. It wouldn't happen, though, and Hope was grateful for that. ❝ You'd have a hard time finding them to kick their ass. ❞

Everyone leaves her, and everyone disappoints her, but her mama and aunt Freya. It's pathetic that every single person walks out the door eventually. Hope's only regrets in this moment were 1. letting them in and 2. not being the first to leave.

THEY’D BEEN SCARED THIS DAY WOULD COME. No amount of running could help them escape the blood in their veins and the fate their father would throw them to if ever found. Hands clutch tight at the door frame, idly wondering if it's better or worse that their father's first choice has found them. (How can they trust it isn't him lurking beneath the skin?)

“Makes it easier if they know where I am.” Tired eyes take in the boy before them, searching for similarities inherited from the monster that sired them, resolutely ignoring the drip, drip, drip, of his blood curling off the map to reach them. (Not the best way to start a relationship when you're not sure whether the other even knows about the supernatural. He's lucky Ryan’s been teaching them. He's lucky ryan isn't here.)

“How much do you know?’

Landon had every ounce of his mother in him. Malivore may have created him, but he didn't have any DNA of the man that was his father. The whole process of his biological mother having carried him makes him ill to think of alone. But now that he stands there staring at another creation of Malivore, Landon feels the pain rise up into his chest, which needs to be squashed down. This has to be the weirdest family reunion ever. The thin line of crimson runs forward and off the map. But Landon can't even tear his gaze from his family.

❝ I know that our father, ❞ the word father, comes out bitterly with so much hate behind the words.   ❝ It is a piece of work. ❞ It's clear that if Wren is forming the question the way they have, there is a huge chance that Wren knows that Malivore is a pile of mud. But Landon can't get the words out of his mouth to save his life because what if Wren didn't know that part? Landon takes a few deep breaths as his hand that had originally adjusted the strap of his bag drops to his side.

“Because that’s how you’re acting, Hope.” Steve responded with barely concealed anger, and hurt. He stared right back at her, expression almost blank as he tried not to show how affected he was. “Like you don’t care, like you never cared. About me. About any of it. So excuse me for assuming you must be happy, you haven’t exactly given me any reason to believe otherwise.”

Acting so good that even she believed her lies. A constant push/pull effect in her interpersonal relationships. She learned it from her father. Hope stood in the middle of the room with a heart that ached so much it felt like it was on fire. ❝ I thought you were happier without me. ❞ Hope always runs from getting hurt. The walls of her prison were of her own making for the most part. ❝ So maybe I was wrong. . . ❞