touched by destiny

Mercy couldn't quite say she understood the pain Amara carried. She could only imagine it.

It was no secret that people like Mercy endured their own share of trauma, tragedy, and loss. But it wasn't remotely comparable to what Amara had suffered. For a Slayer, death was final. The end. A promise of peace, hopefully, after a lifetime of duty. But for someone who was immortal, that option had never existed. Life simply continued, stretching endlessly forward, perhaps all the way until the end of time itself.

And the worst part was that Amara had never truly been allowed to live that immortal life. She had been forced to serve as the Anchor to the Other Side. Turned into stone. Trapped. Tormented.

It was utterly cruel.

Yes, she understood that Qetsiyah had been betrayed. Hurt. Angry. But from everything Mercy had gathered, Amara had been little more than a handmaiden, not a friend, not an equal, but a servant. And while stealing away a bridegroom was certainly never a good look, it wasn't as though Amara had been solely responsible for what happened. If anything, Silas deserved far more blame. Yet somehow, he had received the lighter punishment, despite being equally guilty, arguably more so.

Ironically, it was always the same old story. A woman discovers the betrayal and directs her wrath toward the other woman, while the man escapes with far less consequence.

"But you're still here," Mercy finally said. "There has to be something that motivates you to remain in this world. Something that makes you want to wake up in the morning." She paused, studying Amara carefully.

"No one can survive forever on autopilot. No one can spend every day simply hoping it will end." A small tilt of her head followed. "Isn't there anything that brings you happiness? Anything that makes the air feel a little lighter... a little easier to breathe?"

Amara was a victim too.

Perhaps that was the cruel fate shared by all those who bore her face. Mercy knew enough about the doppelgängers who had come after her to recognize that they hadn't exactly been blessed with happy lives either. Strangely enough, many of them had eventually become vampires. Maybe that was nature's way of correcting itself. Or perhaps it was simply another irony repeating itself over and over again.

"You know," Mercy continued after a moment, "and trust me, I'm not trying to label you as anything..." She hesitated briefly before continuing. "There was a time in my life when I was very unstable. Confused. My emotions felt like they were tearing my head apart. It got to the point where, for a short while, I was placed under psychiatric care. And honestly? It helped. It taught me how to process things. How to move forward. How to regulate emotions that felt impossible to control. I know that's completely different from what you're going through. I'm not trying to compare our experiences."

Because they weren't comparable.

"But at the end of the day, what you're carrying is trauma." Her voice softened further. "And nowadays there are people, actual experts, who dedicate their lives to helping others navigate that. The memories won't magically disappear. I know that." Her eyes met Amara's again.

"But maybe... life could become bearable. And maybe that's not the same thing as happiness. But it might be a start. Perhaps you just need a different kind of therapy session,” Mercy said simply, though she wasn't entirely certain whether her words would make any difference.

If Amara truly felt that life had become too much, then that was her right to feel that way. It didn't mean Mercy was simply going to accept it, nod her head, and walk away.

“From what you're telling me,” she continued, her voice remaining gentle, “it sounds like you really want to check out. And I genuinely hope you're not considering doing something like that.” She paused for a moment. “I know you probably don't take my words very seriously, because what would I know?” A small shrug followed. “And honestly, you're right, I don't know. I don't know what it's like to be immortal and trapped, forced to experience every supernatural death that passed through you. I don't know what it's like to finally be free and cured, only to wake up in a world that isn't the one you once knew.” Her gaze lingered on Amara. “But what I do know is that life is precious. And I think it's worth fighting for.”

“I'm not saying that out of obligation,” Mercy added. “I'm saying it because I care. And not because I know you personally, or because we're suddenly best friends.” The smile faded again, replaced by something more earnest.

“I care because I believe in helping people when they're hurting. That doesn't always mean slaying monsters or fighting evil. Sometimes it just means looking out for someone who's in a dark place.” She folded her arms loosely. “And maybe that's selfish too, in a way. Because I hope that if I ever found myself somewhere that dark, someone would show up for me too.” She meant every word of it.

Though if Mercy was being honest, there was a part of her that still believed problems could be solved. That enough effort, enough resources, enough opportunities could make things better. Perhaps it was something she'd learned growing up. Whenever her parents were absent, whenever work became more important than family, there was always a gift waiting afterward. Money. Vacations. Expensive distractions. As though those things could somehow fill the empty spaces. Part of her still carried that mindset, whether she realized it or not.

“What about something positive?” she asked after a moment, trying a different approach. “What about exploring? Even if this world isn't the one you knew, there are still beautiful things in it.” Her expression brightened slightly.

“What about going somewhere warm? Sunshine, white beaches, palm trees. A vacation somewhere peaceful.” She paused. “Or maybe you prefer the cold. A winter trip, perhaps. Seeing the aurora borealis with your own eyes. I could help you with that, you know.” Then her expression became serious again. “Though obviously not if your plan is to use the opportunity to quietly fade into the abyss.” Her brow arched slightly. “If you get what I mean.” Mercy sighed softly. “I'm just saying... maybe before you decide there's absolutely nothing left for you here, you owe it to yourself to at least look around a little longer.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀"you are right," she admitted softly at last. "i am still here." another pause followed. "and i ask myself why every single day." her fingers folded carefully together in her lap, albeit the action itself made visible that there's strain in her muscles.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"there is nothing," she answered . "nothing that motivates me. nothing that makes me want to wake up in the morning." the faintest shake of her head followed. "i do not sleep naturally anymore. they gave me little colorful capsules so i can. otherwise i simply... remain awake."

⠀⠀⠀⠀her gaze drifted toward one of the windows.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"and when i do wake..." her voice became almost absent. "i usually stay where i am, sometimes for hours, and look at the ceiling." there was no embarrassment in admitting it, only resignation.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"i still wish to end it." she said it with remarkable calmness, as though discussing the weather rather than herself. "i already tried once." a faint swallow followed. "they would not let me." although amara could not understand why. why were they so keen on forcing her to live? what gain do they have from this?

⠀⠀⠀⠀her expression tightened almost imperceptibly. “i was so close. i do not think they would allow it a second time either. and... i am frightened of ending up back there. the hospital.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀"the lights never turned off. everything beeped. people spoke constantly. machines made noises." unconsciously, one hand moved to her forearm, fingertips resting there lightly. "they kept touching me without asking, they put needles in me and other things. they fastened things onto me. shone painfully bright lights into my eyes. woke me when i finally drifted asleep." her fingers curled slightly. “sometimes they restrained me because they believed it was safer.” she did not want to risk getting back to this. 

⠀⠀⠀⠀"the colorful pills..." she continued. "they quiet certain things, they soften the sharpest edges but they do not remove them. and they also soften everything else."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"if there is something in this world capable of bringing me joy..." she gave the smallest shake of her head. "the medication buries that too."

⠀⠀⠀⠀her expression grew thoughtful. "i have already been where you describe." she offered the words gently, almost apologetically. "they believed i was mentally unwell." technically correct. "i spent months in psychiatric facilities. group sessions. individual therapy. specialists. psych-somethings."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"eventually i realized something. none of them could help me." there was no bitterness behind the statement because she did not believe that anyone could help her and she knew that no mortal could ever comprehend her situation. 

⠀⠀⠀⠀"how could they? tell me..." her voice remained impossibly soft. "how do you imagine someone helps me ...when even the people whose entire profession is helping could not comprehend what happened? they could not understand the passage of time." her gaze drifted briefly. "they spoke to me as though trauma accumulates over years." a slow blink followed. “i am not speaking about twenty years, i am speaking about two thousand.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀"they could not understand what it means to remain trapped inside your own body for that long. unable to move. unable to escape. unable to close your eyes. forced to just endure. they could not understand what it feels like to experience death thousands upon thousands of times without ever dying yourself."

⠀⠀⠀⠀she swallowed carefully. “i know what drowning feels like, burning, starvation, thirst, being stabbed, having bones broken and limbs torn away, being tortured, freezing, suffocating. i have felt all of it. over... and over... and over again.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀"they could not understand what it feels like when a spirit passes through the anchor." her expression became distant. "it feels..." she searched for words that did not truly exist. "as though someone were trying to force an entire horse through the eye of a needle. it feels as if you're gonna burst." the memory alone made her shoulders tense.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"how does one explain sensations another person is fundamentally incapable of imagining?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀she looked back toward mercy. “you mean well, i truly believe that but i have no reason to believe it becomes better and i have even less reason to hope.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀"i cannot imagine there is anything left on this earth capable of making all of this worthwhile." not even silas finding her could ease her pain. and now that she knows he's gone, that they cannot even be reunited after death, there was even more so no reason why she should look forward to anything. 

to request a starter, please comment and tell me what muse(s) you want (amara, diana, gia, nadia, natalia, sarah, tatia → more information underneath the cut) and i’ll write you a short starter. you can also add if you are interested in a certain verse/au.

please specify for which of your muses you want to get the starter if you are a multi ♥

mutuals only

It's when she mentioned that the world would be fine without her completely that his heart sank into his stomach. It pinches, because he understands. He feels it, knows it to be true about himself as well. He doesn't comment, not immediately, just chews on it for a moment. He slots it away into that same category of being too sad to deal with right now, that they're practically strangers. Jeremy adjusts his body to look at her, really look at her, and he sighs, a pained smile trying to break through the sad atmosphere that was thrusted upon him.

She might not be his sister, but she still carries a lot of grief like her. Like himself as well.

⠀⠀⠀⠀amara listened, her attention following his explanation while her eyes wandered over the street beyond as though seeing it anew. in truth, every step she had taken since waking had reminded her that she no longer belonged to the world she had once known.

⠀⠀⠀⠀there were lights that glowed without flame or smoke. wells hidden inside houses that offered endless water, warm or cold at one's choosing. strange carriages without horses that raced across stone roads faster than any team she had ever seen. little boxes that somehow carried music despite containing neither musicians nor instruments. even the food had changed. sweeter, stranger, more elaborate although not always better.

⠀⠀⠀⠀it was as though someone had taken the world she remembered and rewritten every page while she had been absent.

⠀⠀⠀⠀when jeremy extended his arm, her gaze settled on it for a brief moment before returning to his face. "that is kind of you but... i would rather walk beside you."

⠀⠀⠀⠀the refusal came gently but firm. "i am not particularly fond of being touched." she hesitated only briefly before adding, almost apologetically, "i hope you do not take offense."

⠀⠀⠀⠀his mention of the country fair earned another curious tilt of her head. "i do not know what a... country fair is." she pronounced the unfamiliar words carefully, committing each syllable to memory.

to request a starter, please comment and tell me what muse(s) you want (amara, diana, gia, nadia, natalia, sarah, tatia → more information underneath the cut) and i’ll write you a short starter. you can also add if you are interested in a certain verse/au.

please specify for which of your muses you want to get the starter if you are a multi ♥

mutuals only

to request a starter, please comment and tell me what muse(s) you want (amara, diana, gia, nadia, natalia, sarah, tatia → more information underneath the cut) and i’ll write you a short starter. you can also add if you are interested in a certain verse/au.

please specify for which of your muses you want to get the starter if you are a multi ♥

mutuals only

How tired he had become of Stefan Salvatore! She could have found anyone, chosen anyone, and in spectacular fashion, she had picked the one person who did not want her. Not anymore. He understood the impulse. Even as he paced here in Mystic Falls, Louis was out there somewhere, and Lestat's heart ached for him every moment of every day. Louis who did not want him, Louis who had discarded him, a love which had not survived the loss of their child, at least on Louis' end. He had never forgiven Lestat for it, as if Lestat himself had been responsible.

He had chosen Louis once, the same way Katherine had chosen Stefan, and there was no unchoosing. He would want only Louis until he died and perhaps in the world that came after, even if Louis would not even look at him. How much worse it would have been to watch him move on with Armand. Yes, Lestat was aware they were together, but he did not have to witness it. To endure the display of it, like Katherine did. And what would Katherine have told him? To forget Louis? To move on? No. She wouldn't have suggested such a thing and it's why he cannot suggest it either.

In his eyes, Stefan is no Louis, but it didn't matter. It was how she saw him, how she felt about him. But certainly, the chances wouldn't have been less if she'd chosen another body, as Nadia had suggested (numerous times). If they were meant to be together, the body wouldn't matter. But alas, it had mattered to Katherine and so here they were. Lestat paused, and poured himself another drink, draining the glass before pouring another. How could he help her? What could he do? "It's hope. The worst of all evils, no? It prolongs suffering. She hopes he will change his mind."

Just like Lestat hoped Louis would. He lifted the glass and swirled the amber liquid before his eyes. "So what, they compete until one fails? She's a seventeen year old girl," he snarled, "There should be no contest. What kind of fight can she put up against 500 years of survival?" He drained the glass again. "Elena has the advantage, no? Can Katherine switch again? Is she strong enough? Perhaps we could, I don't know, force her. Into some other body. She won't like it but she's not thinking clearly. I won't sit here and watch her succumb." He was well aware he wasn't the only one worried, but he was so frustrated.

⠀⠀⠀⠀nadia let out a slow breath through her nose and leaned back again, staring briefly into the amber liquid resting untouched in her glass. "i know exactly what hope does. and, unfortunately, i'm no better." a humorless smile pulled briefly at the corner of her mouth.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"because apparently i'm the same sentimental idiot who keeps hoping katherine will change. that one day all of this will make sense. that there'll be some reward at the end of it." she shook her head. a part of her knows it's pointless. katherine won't change and won't let her obsession with stefan rest. sometimes she hated stefan so much that nadia wanted to get rid of him.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"hope is useful because it keeps you moving. it's also useful because it keeps you from looking too closely at reality." her gaze drifted briefly toward the ceiling again.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"the reality is that this is still elena's body. people keep talking about age like katherine's spirit is five hundred years older than elena's. it isn't. her body was."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"her vampire body carried five hundred years of strength, instinct, speed, resilience. her spirit doesn't suddenly inherit all of that."

⠀⠀⠀⠀another small shake of her head followed. "what katherine does have is stubbornness. pride. survival instinct. enough determination to drag herself through situations that should've killed her a hundred times over."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"but elena has advantages too. that body belongs to her. every memory, every emotional bond, every instinct inside it recognizes her as the original owner." nadia rubbed her temple again. "that's why this isn't some simple contest where age automatically wins."

⠀⠀⠀⠀the next question earned a frustrated exhale. "i don't know if she can switch again." honesty came easily there because she genuinely didn't know. "first she'd have to agree to it, which is already a problem." her eyes rolled slightly.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"second, she's currently possessing a vampire body. i have no idea whether the passenger spell would even function the same way under those circumstances." she glanced toward him. "a proper witch might be able to figure something out. there are still the traditional ways of putting a spirit in another body."

⠀⠀⠀⠀a pause followed. "there is a way to make it permanent and anchor her completely. it won't get rid of elena's spirit but it will make it dormant." the admission came reluctantly and immediately her expression soured.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"but i don't want that; because elena gilbert is the wrong body." there was no hesitation in that statement. "if this were some random girl living three states away, then yes. someone with no connections. no one looking." she gestured vaguely toward the outside world. "but this is elena. people know her. people love her."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"and katherine isn't nearly as clever as she thinks she is when stefan salvatore is involved. if someone figures it out, and eventually someone will, then suddenly she has enemies again." slowly, she shook her head. sometime she could slap her mother for her stupidity.

❝I love going to the grocery store & then the park.❞ Hope tells Diana with a wide grin. She had this whole thing already planned in the back of her mind. She was giving herself a $100 limit on snacks & art supplies at the store. Then she was going to the park to watch the birds & draw. Maybe swing by an arcade if Diana wasn't tired of her by then. Hope's not sure if that is all considered human, but it felt like it. ❝I set a limit on how much I can spend at the store & then use a calculator to figure it all out while pretending I can't go over that amount because rent is due in three days.❞

⠀⠀⠀⠀once settled comfortably in her seat, she turned slightly toward her companion and listened. the more hope explained, the more diana found herself smiling.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"that actually sounds very human." there was warmth in her voice and amusement. "especially the part where you create an entire financial crisis for yourself just to make grocery shopping more authentic." a soft laugh escaped her. "i think that's wonderfully committed."

⠀⠀⠀⠀her gaze briefly shifted toward the passing scenery outside. "i do something similar, although for less imaginative reasons." she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "i live on my salary, so i need to keep track of what i'm spending. i should probably also mention that i still prefer carrying actual money. i never entirely trusted cards." the confession seemed almost sheepish because most people seem to rely on their plastic cards and diana wondered how they prevent themselves from over-spending.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"when i hand over physical bills, i know exactly how much i have left. with cards, the money just... disappears somewhere invisible."

"I play many instruments, yes. I also compose and write, when I have the time. New Orleans, she is a city of music, child of Paris. That's where my family is from. Not too much of a story, really. Most of them died in the revolution," Lestat explained, and then he laughed. "It's a courtesy, no? More for your benefit than mine. People can be so skittish these days. Call me old fashioned but I much prefer this way of meeting like minds; I'm afraid the artistic elite are not flocking to Grindr." His smile remained as he inclined his head in acknowledgement of her rather fair point.

He shrugged and looked around them, before his striking blue eyes fell back on her, his expression warm and relaxed. "Human connection is becoming less relevant by the day, but I will always be partial to it. It's one of the great pleasures of life, I think. To meet someone, to talk and laugh and perhaps be understood. I won't insist upon it, if it makes you uncomfortable, but I do know a lovely cafe. Lots of people. If I attempt anything untoward, there will be many witnesses." Now he was teasing, hoping to put her at ease. Being unable to read her mind, he was at the mercy of what she chose to share, and how honest she decided to be.

He knew he was attractive, alluring, interesting, but New Orleans was full of such people. He could not imagine he was the first to ever take interest in her. As he waited to see what she'd make of his proposition, he twisted the lupus lazuli ring on his index finger, an idle habit he'd had for some time, often fiddling with the other rings on his fingers. Such a ring was the only reason he was able to enjoy the world while the sun was up, and he was glad for it. The night could be interesting, with a great many things to experience, but it was nice to catch a cup of coffee and a pastry in the early morning.

She would think it one of several accessories if it caught her attention at all, but she seemed the discerning type. Human, though, as far as he could tell. Not witch, not like him. Ordinary. Talented, yes, but not supernaturally. Still, enough to catch his attention, and now he could only hope she would humor him. If not, he'd simply come back again and listen to her. He had time, after all. Perhaps he could charm her yet. It was good of her to be cautious - it didn't do well to be foolish and he was, after all, a predator. Perhaps some part of her sensed that.

⠀⠀⠀⠀then the mention of grindr caught her completely off guard. a laugh escaped before she could stop it.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"okay, first of all, if the artistic elite are gathering anywhere, i can assure you it's not grindr." amusement lingered openly in her voice now. "or tinder, for that matter." she shook her head lightly. "although now i'm trying to imagine a bunch of tortured musicians, painters, and poets attempting to network through dating apps and somehow that's the funniest thing i've heard all week."

⠀⠀⠀⠀the smile remained for a few seconds before fading into something more thoughtful. he wasn't wrong. meeting people like this was unusual nowadays. everyone seemed permanently attached to a screen. conversations happened through texts. friendships through notifications. and despite every warning her common sense provided, lestat didn't actually feel dangerous.

⠀⠀⠀⠀mysterious? absolutely. a little strange? definitely. but dangerous? not particularly. or perhaps she just wasn't sensitive to the apparent danger. with an exaggerated sigh, she finally relented.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"fine." one finger pointed briefly in his direction. "but if i end up murdered, i'm going to be extremely annoyed." her mouth twitched. "and i'd like that noted in advance."

to request a starter, please comment and tell me what muse(s) you want (amara, diana, gia, nadia, natalia, sarah, tatia → more information underneath the cut) and i’ll write you a short starter. you can also add if you are interested in a certain verse/au.

please specify for which of your muses you want to get the starter if you are a multi ♥

mutuals only

⠀⠀⠀⠀diana listened carefully, giving the words the consideration they deserved before answering. "i don't think it's foolish, i think it's human. the truth is, safety is never guaranteed for anyone." she folded her hands loosely in front of herself before she continued.  "humans live with uncertainty every day. they can lose their jobs. they can struggle to pay their bills. they can be robbed, become ill, get into accidents on their way to work. they simply become accustomed to living alongside those risks."

⠀⠀⠀⠀although diana knew, of course, that it cannot be compared to hope's situation.  "of course, your circumstances are different." that much would have been impossible to deny because diana knew she has had enemies after her before she was even born which unfortunately included diana's own mother.  "the dangers that seek you out are probably far greater than what most people face."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"but you're also far more capable than most people." there was no flattery in the statement, only fact. "you have abilities and resources to build the life you want. and if you truly wished to disappear, i imagine very few people could find you."

⠀⠀⠀⠀her brow lifted slightly, remembering a story about her family. or rather the myth of it. "i've heard stories about your family. for centuries, most people believed the original vampires were myths. ghost stories. cautionary tales told in whispers. that takes a remarkable ability to stay off the radar." if they could do it, diana is certain hope can do it as well.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"and regarding work? people leave work for emergencies all the time. a sick child or an elderly parent. life has a way of interrupting plans. the details may be different in your case, but the principle is exactly the same."