A Repertoire of Untold Stories

「 ,.., — 𝓓. 𝓢𝓪𝓵𝓿𝓪𝓽𝓸𝓻𝓮: @xtrustawitch 」

     — Damon smirked faintly as he watched Valerie settle into her chair and sip her drink, his cerulean hues gauging the witch in clear wariness, making it obvious that even though HE had been the one to seek HER out for help, he still harbored deep issues with trusting others.

The vampire snorted and let out a quiet chuckle as he stared at the liquid in the glass, slowly turning it this way and that yet not drinking it just yet.

“Damon Salvatore,” he replied, sighing under his breath and lifting his eyes to hers.

Here came the hardest part. TALKING about WHY and WHO.

Even though it shouldn’t bother him at all considering his emotions were OFF. 

Slowly blowing out a lungful of air, Damon rolled his eyes in what looked like exasperation at himself and forced out the words, the start of his explanation coming from between clenched teeth. “Okay, look. I need to get into a magically sealed tomb. And I was told you could help me with that. See, the girl I love is trapped inside.”

The vampire’s teeth clenched as he stared at the witch, a muscle visibly jumping repeatedly along his jaw.

If she dared to laugh at him…..

He didn’t even realize he had been holding his breath until he reached for the drink, deciding NOW would be the best time to take advantage of such a thing. But why the hell did he even care? He shouldn’t be able to. But the truth of it was when it came to Katherine Pierce, Damon couldn’t STOP himself from caring— even without humanity he wanted nothing more than to be reunited with the girl that he had loved enough to die for.

Valerie set her tumbler on the little table and stared out into the woods for a moment after the proclamation. Working to keep her expression neutral. She couldn’t afford to have a bleeding heart. Particularly not around someone who was rather more interested in blood than alcohol. 

She eyed the way he downed his glass. 

Presumably more interested in her blood, anyway. 

A sigh. She dusted off her immaculate black clothes and stood, cane in one hand though she wasn’t leaning on it just then. 

“Oh I just know I’m going to regret this --”

Thunder rumbled, light flickered in the sky beyond the trees. 

Valerie went to her door and opened it, a sour expression on her face. 

“Come in then. If You’ve come to me for help this isn’t going to be a short conversation, and if you go utterly murder happy I’d rather it be inside.”

「 ,.., — 𝓓. 𝓢𝓪𝓵𝓿𝓪𝓽𝓸𝓻𝓮: @xtrustawitch 」

     — Damon snorted and rolled his eyes. “Yep. Practically a child,” he replied with a  dismissive gesture although judging by the cheeky smile curving at his lips he was only teasing her in a playful manner.

The vampire groaned dramatically in exasperation, head falling back with a martyred sigh to look towards the heavens for otherworldly intervention. “Why. WHY?” he asked the sky after he watched her step back into her little cabin. Didn’t they realize he could just wait them out should he really want to kill them? Humans. Idiots.

Obeying Val’s order, Damon made his way around to the front porch and took a seat at the table to wait patiently for the witch to join him.

“Hmm. I THINK that can be arranged.” he chuckled with a polite yet VERY fake smile as he leaned forward to rest an elbow on the table, pale eyes focused on the witch pointedly before sliding down to the glass she was offering him. “Now, you didn’t happen to spike it with vervain, did you? Cause I’m gonna be really pissed off if I drink it and suddenly can’t breathe.” Damon warned, cerulean hues flaring dramatically yet still managing to flash a warning her way.

Valerie settled comfortably in her chair and sipped at her drink. Appearing entirely at ease. Though the cane leaning against her leg was wooden and rather sharp. And hiding a dagger she’d enchanted herself. 

“As if I would ruin a PERFECTLY good vintage with poison. If I wanted to do you harm I’d be handing you a beer.”

Vampire or not, she’d faced worse. And if it came to a fight, the Scotswoman could do with unleashing the ever present violence banked like burning coals in her bones. 

“Now please do introduce yourself seeing as you must already know my name, and tell me what brings you to me and why?” 

She turned her brown gaze on him, one incongrously dark eyebrow raising to vanish under her snow white bangs. 

[ 💀 𝓓.𝓢. ; @xtrustawitch ]

     — Damon wasn’t trying to be anything other than looking for the witch in question that Bree had mentioned before he had ripped her heart from her chest. She had been SO SURE that Valerie would be able to help him open the tomb that held Katherine and now the vampire was about to test that theory.

Now it seemed that he had possibly found her. Who else would be living this far out in the middle of the damned woods?

At least she would be amusing.

“Huh. And here I thought I was here first, being over a hundred and fifty years old and all.” he quipped as he stepped into the clearing, “What year were you even born?” he asked, lips curving into a charming smirk.

The vampire almost— ALMOST— called her Cruella Deville but managed to bite his tongue at the last possible moment. It wouldn’t help his cause at all to get on her bad side during their very first meeting now, would it?

      When the man melted out of the shadows she looked him up and down, taking in all the smirks and confidence. Not to mention the leather. He just about screamed ‘bad boy’ to the heavens. The poor female population in any given local probably dropped their collective drawers for him. She smirked herself. She did so enjoy popping egos. 

      “1975.”

      Valerie pointedly took one step backward over the threshold and back into her home. It didn’t take a genius to guess what he was. Context, and all that. 

      “Clearly you want something. I’m open to business pitches for the time being. But you aren’t coming inside.” She inclined her head to the side fo the cabin. “There’s a table on the front porch. Meet me there.”

      So saying she entered the cabin, retrieved a bottle from her liquor cabinet and exited onto the front porch with two glasses.

     Hades very rarely smiled, but she found it rather difficult to keep her lips from quirking upward as Valerie spoke—she was obviously fond of the woman, and from what it sounded like, Harriet would have very safe passage indeed. She wouldn’t be idle in the fields for long: her final destination would be Elysium, and certainly not Tartarus. 

     “Most feel that way when they’ve lived as long as she did. They are ready to depart from this world.” She set her cup down and bent slightly to examine the woman on the bed, long fingers hovering over the fabric of her dress. Everything seemed to be in place—and once Valerie was able to give her proper payment, she would be on her way.

     “Are you alone now?” she asked, straightening up once more and turning her gaze back to the young woman. “Do the rest of your family still live?” She was fairly certain she already knew the answer to that.

Valerie took the time to sift through her bag as Hades looked over her great-aunt’s body, looking for coins. After a moment she found a few. They were a bit worn, and of no presently minted currency. She’d found them on the beach a few days previous. And somehow old coins seemed more fitting than the new. They were a bit bigger than silver dollars, and moon bright in the waning afternoon sun. 

“It’s only me -- more or less. My younger sister has been missing longer than I’ve been alive so I couldn’t say for sure.” In spite of herself, her face changed for a moment upon mentioned Dahlia. But she smoothed the hurt away and instead pressed forward to drop the coins into the other woman’s hands. 

     One who can see what is not seen…one who is calm in the face of Death, offers them tea, converses without a thought…Hades tilted her head as Valerie continued to speak, watching every little movement the woman made, almost as if the rise and fall of her chest or the occasional blinking of her eyes could give something away. But she wasn’t human…not quite. It didn’t work as it normally would.

     “You are quite perceptive,” she merely commented, sipping once more on the porcelain cup in her grasp. At the mention of currency, just the slightest hint of a smile graced her lips, and she nodded once. “Charon would appreciate it, I am sure…it makes his job much easier, and therefore gives him less to complain about.” Those who presented a gift of some kind to the ferryman always had a smooth crossing, and made Charon almost bearable.

     “Time is of no concern to me, child. I may stay as long as I wish—my realm will wait for me.” Her gaze drifted towards the old woman (the only one in the room with no beating heart). “Did she live her life well?”

      Valerie nodded once and made a mental note to find an appropriate coin for the presumed ferrymen. Harriet had always been kind to her and deserved a smooth crossing as much as anyone. 

      Normally being called ‘child’ would have irked her. Yet from Hades, it seemed almost natural. 

      “Harriet was lovely. She was a nurse -- a field medic during World War II. Fresh out of school. And then she ran a seaside hotel. Took my mother and sister and I in when her visa came under review when my stepfather passed. She always had a story to tell.” Her gaze had drifted, and a rare smile was on her face. “But she told me lately when she was lucid that she felt like butter scraped over too much bread. I think she was ready to rest. And -- yes, that she lived well.”

                  “   Lost,   no.  ”       despite  her  delicate  features  saying  other  wise  she  knew  exactly  where   she  was.      “  Sorry  about  that.          I  was  told  to  come  here.   I  can’t  explain  who  told  me  because  you’d  think  I’m  INSANE.  ”

      “It was only old, not IMPORTANT.” A rare smile. Her curiosity had been piqued. “And in that case, why don’t you come into my office? I can promise I won’t think you’re crazy. And even then, a tale deserves tea and a comfortable seat for telling.” 

     She took the cup when it was presented, nodding her head in silent thanks as she sipped it lightly and watched the young woman, quite surprised that she was so open to such a thing as revealing her own name. And she knew it was not a lie, a mask to her true identity—she left it hanging in the air, plain and simple. So the goddess responded in kind.

     “I am Hades,” she said—though she had many, it was the one she favoured most, the one given to her from the start. “You say that you can see things…explain.” She held up a hand, looking at it lightly. Normally, humans could not see her unless she willed them to. This one, however…

     “You can see my colors, my body…how is this so?”

      Greek. Hm. She wondered if Hades being commonly thought of as male was a translation error or a mythical mutation. Perhaps Persephone was another aspect rather than a wife --? She’d consider it later. Presently there was a guest. 

      “Your guess is as good as mine,” she admitted. “From a folklore standpoint -- it was probably the caul. I was born with one. Beyond that I couldn’t say. But I have always Seen the truth. Rather unpleasant when you’re small. It’s like -- lights. Colors. Patterns. Each word, each person has one unique. And so do you. It’s pretty actually. Twilit. Starry. Hard to quantify.”

      She sipped at her tea watching the other woman with an uncharacteristically bright expression. There was something peaceful in watching for once. 

     Curiosity killed the cat…wasn’t that the famous saying? Of course its true meaning had been lost over the decades, twisted until it was a way to deter young humans from sticking their nose into potentially harmful business, but that is none of her concern…

     Her own curiosity would never lead her astray, even if it did take her out of her domain once in a while. She wasn’t fond of leaving her home all the time, preferring the coollness of the cavernous walls that made up her palace, the souls that kept her company—but this one demanded attention for some reason, and she wasn’t entirely sure it had to do with the woman who’d just died.

     She was reaching for it when the living woman—the one with strange eyes—broke the thin silence and her spine straightened, thin fingers retracting and falling to her side. She can see the dead. Interesting.

     “Very few have a spare thought for death in times such as this,” she answered, tone soft, gaze thoughtful. “Though something tells me this is not an abnormal occurrence to you…tea would be lovely, thank you.”

      “I could hardly blame them for it.” It wasn’t that she didn’t grieve, or wasn’t sad. Her manner of expression was just different. And her grandmother had been so deep into her old memories she hardly recognized the present by the end of it all. In ways, this end was a kindness. 

      Valerie nodded to the strange woman (not the form she’d guessed Death might take) and left the room. Returning several minutes later with two cups of tea. She pushed a curious cat out of the door with one foot before closing it and offered one of the cups. 

      “And it isn’t abnormal, no,” she said, continuing as if she hadn’t left. “I See everything. Though I’ve never seen you. Perhaps your colors, but I’ve never been about when someone passed on before.” Her stepfather had been long dead and lightless when she saw the body. 

      She’d returned home for the death of her grandmother, and held the woman’s hand until dawn broke. Incidentally the same moment her old heart finally ceased to beat. 

      Her mother was not there to clean up and call the various people who greased the wheels of the modern machine of death and grieving. So Valerie did it all, making calls, keeping her grandmother’s cats away from the body. Etcetera. 

      But this time when she entered the room with the body she noticed something odd. The bright threads signifying her grandmother’s life were dull, fluttering untethered things now. She’d expected that. But not the something reaching for them. Barely seen. Twilight fingertips.

      Death, perhaps?