#littlebennettghost

Send ‘don’t leave’ for my muse’s reaction

—But she’d crept oh-so stealthily towards the exit. 

               The frown’s erased from features before being presented to the Bennett girl at her head’s turning. Lips pressed shut, though the words that are careless excuses will not lie dormant for long.

     Brown eyes take in the sight of her, innocence not entirely intact on the face of the mere toddler.

She’s rooted on the spot for the moment, but every fibre of her being rebels against the thought of staying. However fleeting, such proximity with the child is suffocating.                      Katherine Pierce had gone to too many lengths to keep her past at bay to allow asphyxiation under their magnitude now, five hundred years later. 

And it isn’t too big a crime to leave a three year old unaccompanied for mere minutes.

                                        Because Bonnie Bennett doesn’t need her.She’s centuries old— undoubtedly the one with most experiences under her belt in the house, but with the least to offer. Of a species that treats emotion as an unnecessary burden, one of the best at denying compassion. 

There’s not a motherly bone within her form, no tendency to nurture; she has no comforts for when absences are felt the most, and she’s deliberately cold in delivering the truth. 

                             Besides, she’d only allowed herself to be talked into babysitting to ensure that the line of her witch allies would not end by some choking hazard. 

There is animosity in features said to be beautiful, neither rhyme nor reason in why her back now rests against the wall,                                              stationary.

❝Five minutes.   Your Grams’d better be back by then.❞

PLOTTAGE MUST HAPPEN YES

{out of schemes}

More like she doesn’t see the point of it. [ Oh, I’ve been alive three hundred and seventy two years now. ] Years don’t make any difference to her, because all she’s doing is repetition, with different settings and people and scenarios. It’s just running. 

But yeah, if it was a milestone to be proud of then yes, she’d go with it. It’s so sweet of Bonnie though :3

Send one of the following for my muse’s reaction.

❝Did you?❞

             Her tone is light, merely an echo of the witch’s question — Katherine does not see the full extent of Bonnie’s doubt until chocolate hues scan her visage. The uncertainty playing within green eyes stops the vampire short, and though she’d deny it, there is an acute wrenching at her heart. 

                No emotion is transcribed onto her features — not the hurt at the teenager’s questioning, nor the urge to simply tell the truth for once.

Lips part, she hovers between perfected selfishness and the relatively new protectiveness for Bonnie. Of course she did — in that moment, Katherine wanted nothing more than to ease the worries visibly gnawing at the conscience of the girl she had partially raised. Because with the almost inevitable bonding that had taken place over the years had come a realisation — the girl’s pain is also her own.

                          But she is this close to freedom, and the only thing left to be done is to sever all ties. 

                       Barely discernible is the tightening of the woman’s jaw, Katherine steeling herself for the next act. The words flow easily from her tongue, though the amount of discomfort they cause their speaker disturbs the practised liar. A sigh, as if relief is to be had by airing the deception. ❝No, Bonnie. The truth is, I never cared about you.❞

     Eyes refuse to linger on anywhere but the young witch’s expression, and all prayers for an easy break fly out of the window. 

        But she won’t back down; Katherine’s invested too much, gone too far to turn back now. Liberation; from running, from her old life, from all attachments — she could practically smell it now. 

                                                      She only hopes that it is worth it.

Send me a “ø” and I’ll generate a number, your muse will receive one of the following from mine

1. A confession

Gipsy falls over onto the floor, looking up at Bonnie. The blood is rushing away from her head - what else could you expect after having balanced on your hands, your feet resting against the wall for support - and she’s a little dizzy as she stares at Bonnie.

littlebennettbitch replied to your post: littlebennettbitch replied to your post: “Just...

so modest

Uh-oh.

Gipsy turned to Bonnie, dressed in a blue dress that was very clearly not Bonnie’s (except it totally was), a guilty look on her face. Bonnie’s clothes were strewn all over her room - Bonnie’s room, because Gipsy had decided that she liked it better than her own - as Gipsy had tried on one after another, being mesmerised by the clothes that were not standard PPDC issue.

In her defence, Gipsy had totally intended to clear everything before Bonnie came back.