eidolon

“morning  sunshine,”  damon  grinned.  “how’s  rock  bottom  treating  you?  cozy?”  before  tyler  could  make  a  noise  to  speak,  he  immediately  held  up  a  finger  without  looking  at  him.  “nope.  don’t.”  he  said,  walking further  in and  casually  picking  up  a  half-full  glass  off  the  table  and  sniffing  it.  he  winced.  “you  have  a  klaus  problem  and  i  have  a  klaus  solution,”  he  set  the  glass  back  down  making  a  face  of  personal  offense.  what  was  this  kid  drinking?  paint  thinner?  “and,  lucky  you  i’m  feeling  generous,  but  mostly  i’m  bored.”

he  sighed, dramatically, of course.  did  he  actually  want  klaus  dead?  no.  he  actually  found  him  charming  in  a  world-ending,  murdery,  pain  in  the  ass  sort  of  way.  a  kindred  spirit  in  a  different  universe,  perhaps.  “he’s  here,  by  the  way.  very  unhinged  in  that  trademarked  klaus  way.  saw  him…  well,  and  the  aftermath  of  a  slaughter  party  he  had.  looked  more  fun  than  this  one,  for  sure.”  well  despite  the  fact  he  ruined  his  new  boots.  “body  parts  everywhere  like  he  was  trying  to  create  a  murder  scrapbook.”

he  shrugged  like  it  wasn’t  his  problem,  because,  well,  it  wasn’t.  “he  seems  preoccupied,  though.  might  be  your  chance  to  finally  take  out  daddy  klaus,”  he  walked  over closer to him,  putting  his  weight  on  the  side  of  the  couch  tyler  was  sitting  on.  “you  know  the  whole  story  of  the  white  ash  stake,  right?  sure  you  do.  what  if  i  had  a  piece  in  my  possession?  what’s  it  worth  to  you,  team  jacob?  definitely  not  talking  money.  boring.”  he  paused,  making  a  face  and  shaking  his  head.  “not  that  either…  well, maybe. how about a favor for a favor?”

"How the hell did you even find me?" you mutter, dragging a hand across your face like it might rub away the pounding in your skull. You were halfway to drifting again when he dropped it. The bomb that was sure to blow up your life, the one that you had been praying for. Suddenly, you’re upright. "Where? Was he alone?" you ask desperately. Your stomach twists with anxiety, jealousy and fear when you think who might have been with him. You don’t say her name. You don’t have to.

"Yeah, murder’s kind of his thing. Shocker." You’re done with foreplay. You’ve been done since the minute your mom died. You stand, slow but sure, fists clenched at your side. The wolf inside you is already pacing. "I’ll do whatever you want," you say, and you mean it. No hesitation, no bluff. "Damon, I will literally do anything if you give me that stake."

maybe it's hypocritical. you don't exactly have the best taste in men yourself ⸻ but is that what this is? it can't be, right? klaus should be the furthest, most dangerous guy away from her type. "no, come on, seriously. talk to me." because it's obvious that she isn't really talking to anyone, isn't it. you wouldn't, either, not about this. "did you two ... strike up some sort of actual friendship or something? i don't hate that, we need all the help we can get." you just hope she's being careful, all things considered.

You're being defensive and she doesn't deserve it. In truth, Elena is probably just concerned that you've gotten in too deep with someone that you can't be sure won't turn on you. It's the same thing that you've chastised her for a dozen times, falling for the bad brother. Damon was the bad brother to you because of what he took from you, but Klaus had taken things from Elena. If you were in a headspace to be logical, you might have been able to communicate that you understood her hesitation, but these feelings had never been born of logic. "We talk, okay? And he's not all paranoia and murder plots. He gets me, I guess. I just...I want to get to know him better." The corners of your mouth tug into a sheepish smile. "He's not who you think he is, Lena."

"more romantic than you know," you agree, matching her sarcasm with perfect sincerity, half a smile pulling at your lips the longer you look at her. "but i won't torture you with more specifics of just how valuable are to me. there's a time and place."

but god, you want to. you think you could wax poetic about this girl for weeks and years and centuries at a time, at this rate, for all that her reaction does to you now ⸻ the pride you see there, bright and unexpected, lighting up those elegant features as if fatherhood from you couldn't be further from anything undesirable. as if it's something to celebrate. as if this, all of it, truly is worth something huge, beyond elijah's promises and your grim uncertainties. for the first time, you feel it, too, tentative and slow: a father's unhindered pride.

you don't even have time to thank her before she hits you with something else. the warmth hits you first, before you have time to process it, flooding your mind, your body like nothing else. it reminds you of the better moments of your childhood, brief and few as they were, a thousand years ago, or a fleeting touch of comfort from someone who doesn't wish you harm, or the tiny handful of soft moments of safety you've experienced over the last several centuries ⸻ then you realize its source. nik. nik?

slowly, never breaking the mesmerized eye contact you hold with her, you lift your joined hands, pressing the back of hers against your chest. (right over your heart, where instinct guides you.) you hold it there, as if it's something precious, as if you hope to never let go of it ⸻ because you certainly don't. if you weren't already determined to be her happily ever after before, there's no saving her from you now.

"thank you." it's quiet, not a trace of your usual ego to be found; not here, not now, where she's left you feeling for the first time as if she's on your side. wholly. completely. that's the most alarming part, isn't it, to the original hybrid who believes that you can't even trust your own siblings the majority of your life? you trust her. "i've missed you, caroline forbes. new orleans was dull and dreary without you there to lighten up the place." with another smile, you add, "and i'm sure my siblings wish you'd been there to lighten my mood."

"No, no. Please torture me. Tell me just how weak I make you." It was as much a test as it was genuine curiosity. Could he be honest with you, be truly vulnerable? You regret issuing the challenge almost as soon as you make it. Not only are you asking too much (always asking too much) but now you're in dangerous waters. If you expect him to get vulnerable, who's to say he won't expect the same? And what are you going to say then?

That flicker in his eyes makes you beam even brighter with pride. Finally, he was going to be able to change the narrative. Instead of the word father being whispered like a dirty curse word, a stain on the Mikaelson family tree, he had a chance to turn it into something beautiful. This was his opportunity to change their stars.

And Hayley Marshall had been the one to give it to him.

The pride on your face is in part to yourself, for not breaking that radiant smile even when you learned that he was going to father a child with someone that wasn't you. You would never been able to give him a child, you'd never be able to give anyone a child. Nineteen and barren, the new 16 and Pregnant.

His hand moves but not with force. It's gentle, intentional. You don’t breathe. Not really. The thanks that follows strips down your defenses and you crumble because this is the part that breaks you. Not the charm, not the power that he holds, but this. The raw, rare, honest moments that he shows only to you. He doesn't want to fight, he just wants you to see him.

Every cell in your body screams at you to run. You're in too deep now. This was a point of no return. "I missed you too," you admit, ignoring reason and instinct. You had hated Mystic Falls without him. He had hated New Orleans without you. You hated the way you tried so hard to pretend he hadn’t changed you, and how much harder it was every day to believe that lie.

That smile could unmake you. A light laugh leaves your lips, and you shake your head. "They might have been happy to have me to take you off their hands for a while, but I'm fairly certain they don't like me very much," she answered. That didn't matter to her much. Not right now. She had centuries to win over Rebekah and Elijah, if that's where this led. "You know, I almost took you up on that offer to come see you after I broke up with Tyler. But I figured you wouldn't have appreciated such a liability showing up unannounced."

caroline's next topic makes you laugh in spite of yourself. "you're handling this a lot better than i am. i don't even want to look at anything here, it's all just..." fake. a trap. something you can't enjoy even if you want to, because you're homesick for a life you can never truly go back to, and you're just obviously a debbie downer by nature at this point. you shake your head, fighting between what feels realistic to you and the part of you that doesn't want to bring caroline's mood down here with yours. "i don't know. maybe i need a brain break."

You bark out a sarcastic little laugh, shaking your head. "Oh, babe, I am not holding up as well as I might appear." Where was Stefan? Where was Liz? Why the fuck were they here? Each question made your mind race more than the last. "Then let's take a brain break," you answer simply. She could use the same thing rather than swirling in her own anxiety. "Let's go to the bar, pretend to be someone else, and just live for a little bit. We can make up whole new lives. It'll be great."

"that isn't what i meant." it's what you finally say, your fingers curling lightly around her elbow to keep her close. keep you sane. keep you locked together, before the disease of your personality and your anxieties threaten to separate you again. "you don't cause me pain, caroline. you're what anyone could use against me. you are another walking vulnerability for me." your eyes search her lovely blue, insistent that she remember who you are, all that you've done for her ⸻ all that you've already said.

the only pain you feel, if you're honest, is the pain that comes with not having her. with her not being yours. you made peace with not belonging anywhere a very long time ago, yet here you are again, on your knees before a young vampire with fire in her eyes and all too eager to belong to her. you don't recognize yourself for it ⸻ but you certainly have no hope in stopping it.

as if she senses your admiration, she beats you over the head with it all over again by going toe to toe with you. stepping closer. throwing all that she's been through in your face; because of course she can handle anything you throw at her. "my choice," you repeat, the ghost of a smile tugging at your lips. you never had any real choice at all the moment you stepped into an argument with caroline forbes. (it's amazing, the way she clears your head. the way she lights a path that was pitch black just moments ago.)

"i'm looking for hayley marshall." the admission is soft, quiet, guided by your head dipping closer to hers. "we had a bit too much fun a little while back ⸻ and now she's carrying my child." your fingers curl more tightly around caroline's arm; not enough to hurt, just enough to hold firm. "a so-called miracle endangered simply by existing. simply for who the father is. as you might imagine, anyone who calls themselves an enemy of the mikaelsons will want to get their hands on this baby. use them against me. use them to hurt me." you drag your fingers down her arm, down, down farther still, until your fingertips ghost across her palm, the weaker parody of a handhold. "now you know why i may be feeling a little tense. why i'm finding it so difficult to trust anyone." a pause, a breath, before you add, "i'm trusting you with this."

"Wow," you whisper softly. "So I'm a weakness. How romantic." Your voice is flat at first, defenses going up until his fingers find your skin. One touch and you feel like you're on fire. Emerald eyes seem to attempt to say what he won't, that he's trying to show you how much he cares. Part of you wants to remain defiant, to rebuff his physical contact to punish him, to show him that you refuse to be seen as some puppet in his enemies' games.

But you stay where you are.

Instead, you let the silence settle between you like a pressure drop. You watch him and beneath all that immortal bravado, all that thousand-year-old control, there's panic. Guilt. Desperation. He was unraveling.

Because of you.

And if he knew what was in your mind, he would know that he had affected you just as deeply. His yearning isn't one-sided anymore. It was something that you had come to terms with, though you hadn't found the courage to say it out loud. You knew the looks that would come with your admission, the criticism that you had given Elena coming back to find you tenfold. But you can't help it anymore, you don't want to deny the chemistry. You want him. In truth, part of you is worried that if you give into him, the interest will be lost. He had chased you for so long that you feared that perhaps he had fallen in love with the chase instead of you.

"Your choice," you repeat, your eyes staying trained on his as if to dare him to say something that would make you falter. And then he does. Hayley Marshall. Hayley Marshall. Hayley Marshall? You force your face to remain passive. Each word he said twisted the knife. He had slept with Hayley. He was having a baby with Hayley. He was looking for Hayley. The hand that tightens on your arm reminds you to remain calm. Damon Salvatore's voice echoes through your thoughts. Stupid, shallow, useless. Someone with those qualities would make this situation about them. You weren't that girl anymore. You were strong, ageless, fearless now.

"A baby," you answer, voice soft but filled with genuine pride. He was going to be a father. Fires of jealousy threatened to burn through you but you smiled anyways. "Congratulations, Nik." You clasp the fingers that find your palm around his, squeezing three times. A silent admittance of affection that it wasn't the time to voice. "You can trust me with this. I'll help you. We'll find them together."

@ofruinedgrace 🔒 lizzie  froze.  just  for  a  second.  she’d  know  that  face  anywhere.  her  mom.  even  if  this  version  didn’t  know  her  back.  even  if  her  sister  wasn’t  here  to  elbow  her  in  the  ribs  or  her  dad  wasn’t  around  to  distract  her  with  something  sarcastic  and  infuriating.  she  didn’t  mean  to  speak.  it  just…  slipped.  “weird  seeing  someone  who  feels  like  home  when  nothing  else  does.”  she  kept  talking.  faster  now.  safer  that  way.  “sorry.  sorry.  that  was  super  cryptic.  i’m  not  usually  that  intense.  or  maybe  i  am.  whatever.  long  day.”  she  stepped  closer  without  thinking,  then  stopped  herself.  you  can’t  hug  her,  remember?

“you  just  reminded  me  of  someone.  which  is  stupid  because  she’s  not  here.  and  neither  is  my  sister.  or  my  dad.  or  anyone,  really.”  she  laughed  once.  it  was  sharp  and  too  loud.  it  didn’t  even  sound  like  her.  “i’m  totally  fine,  by  the  way.  clearly  thriving.  emotionally  stable  and  definitely  not  projecting."  her  hands  curled  into  the  sleeves  of  her  cardigan.  a  comfort  thing?  a  control  thing?  she  couldn’t  tell  the  difference  anymore.  eyes  stung  but  she  blinked  fast.  don’t  cry.  this  wasn’t  her  mom.  and  saying  the  truth  out  loud  wouldn’t  make  it  her.  don’t  cry.  please  don’t  cry.  “i’m  lizzie,”  she  added.  “in  case  you  were  wondering  who  the  girl  having  a  complete  identity  spiral  is.”

She understood the feeling of lonliness and her face softened as the brunette rattled off all the people missing from her orbit. "It's hard, being on your own," she said softly, her hand instinctually finding the other woman's arm, trying to give her comfort in whatever way possible. "I've never been away from my mom, so believe me, I get it." She couldn't help but laugh at the sarcastic quip that followed, nodding in agreement. "Oh, yeah. We're totally well-adjusted and not at all panicking. It's fine, this is fine." She held out the hand that had been resting on the girl's arm for a formal introduction. "I'm Caroline. No identity crisis, but definite control freak who is no longer in control issues happening over here."

𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 i’m not saying you’re the worst person i’ve ever met… 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐍 but? 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 there is no but. you’re literally the worst person i’ve ever met.

Amara looked the blonde over . She remembers her . DEAD . Twice but the second time not so much . A vampire could come back to life if just the NECK IS SNAPPED . She was friends with the one who looked like her . It made her regret taking that immortality spell . HOW FOOLISHLY IN LOVE WAS SHE to think what she and silas did had no consequences . Another car passed by . HIGH BEEMS ON AND HORN HONKING . It made her jump and nod at wanting to get out of there in general .

Melodi raised an eyebrow at the sight of caroline . She wasn't thinking that deeply on space and them not being alone out there . In theory she would agree that they were not but it's not something she cared much about . ❝ ⸻ Aren't you thinking a little too deeply there . It's just a ball of fire . ❞ they were there during the day but without the night no one would see them . She only star watched because it's something her brother loved to do and well , she did found it relaxing .

❝ ⸻ Well , if you must know the owner lives there . I don't want to move anyone in the 3rd floor unless he's okay with it for now . ❞ Kiraz happily provided a reasonable explanation . At least she thought it was reasonable and made sense . ❝ Do you have a preference in which floor ? First , second , Fourth ? Top floor ? I also will need name and would that be cash or card ❞ Although , Kiraz did prefer cash .

Spinning on his heel, Isaac came face to face with the one person he’d begged for, prayed for, cried for, needed more than anyone else. Oliver. How long had it been since they’d stood like this, both of them whole, both of them human? He wasn’t built for a world where Oliver didn’t exist. Orion might’ve been his purpose, but Ollie was the other half of him. Most of the bedtime stories he told his son were about his brother; the legendary Uncle Ollie, who showed up once a month like a ghost. And now here that ghost was, solid in his arms. Isaac held on like he might vanish all over again.