![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
waltzmatildahTitle: Here For The Echoes
Fandom: The Vampire Diaries (television series)
Characters/Pairings: General cast. Eventual Damon/Elena.
Word Count: 1800
Rating: M
Prompt: From![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
miss_blanche. Damon is in danger of some description and Stefan and Elena are standing aside helpless. Elena is distraught and certain feelings are revealed when Stefan questions her.
Summary: Damon POV. Season 2 AU. He's right where she left him. A pathetic heap on the floor, forehead pressed to solid wall. Three seconds and fighting from an attempt to slam his face through the rock.
Author's Note: Title and cut text from “In The Veins Of Death Valley”, Birds of Tokyo.
Part 1: You tell me that everything is fine here, and you can handle it...
The silence following Bonnie's melodramatic arrival and subsequent departure is suffocating. The wind, so determined to flatten a swath through the landscape only moments earlier, fades to barely a rustle of distant leaves and the floating shadow of cloud across moonlight.
He half expects the volcano she ignited in his skull to fade out following her retreat.
That it fails to relent even an inch has his hands curled to fists and pushing at his temples.
He's right where she left him. A pathetic heap on the floor, forehead pressed to solid wall. Three seconds and fighting from an attempt to slam his face through the rock. He drags his cell phone from his pocket and dumps it on the rug by his left knee. Gives himself a moment to contemplate her words. To weigh up the pros and cons of a phone call to his brother.
To Elena.
Can't quite bring himself to give in enough to punch out the numbers.
And it all feels like surrender in the end anyway.
- - -
He makes it back to the couch. Manages to shuffle past the liquor cabinet and snag a new bottle on his way. Contemplates simply shattering the glass against his skull as he fumbles with the screw top for several blinks.
Forgoes a tumbler and drains the liquid straight from the narrow neck.
Figures alcohol poisioning has to be better than whatever unholy hell he's currently floating through.
The flames in the fireplace blur and bleed together before fading out. Minutes, hours, seconds, days pass. Scotch disappears down his throat. A chill settles deep in his bones. Uncomfortable. More uncomfortable than usual.
The grind of car tyre rolling over gravel is almost more than he can take but they're standing behind him then before he can do much of anything about it and so he slams his eyes to shut and grits his teeth and does his level best not to scream.
“And what have you kiddies been up to this fine evening?” Goes for default facetious and figures he almost pulls it off. “Murder and mayhem, I hope...”
“Hello to you too, Damon...” Pointed. Like somehow he already knows everything even though he doesn't actually know anything. At least, not yet. “Wait.” There it is. The other shoe drops with a resounding thud. “What the hell happened in here?”
“I don't know what you're talking about...” He figures denial will work for about-
“Seriously, Damon. What the hell?”
- two point five seconds. It is painfully predictable that way.
“Just a spot of redecorating. Haven't you heard?” His voice is a low growl. Quieter than usual but more deliberate. Every ounce of determination he has funneled desperately into sliding the words out in a way that won't raise the red flags to full mast before he's ready for them. Before his backup plan has been devised. Before some semblance of clawing control has been regained.
Convinced as he still is that he can handle this. Just... give him a minute to get his shit together and he'll handle it all.
“Trashed is the new black...”
- - -
He pushes the bottle of scotch back between his lips. Clamps his teeth around the lip and tilts his head back to just before boiling point. Swallows desperately. Oblivious to the liquid that spills, slippery slick across his fingers. Traces a trail of least resistance to his elbow.
Pools, dark black, on the faded denim covering his right thigh.
“Quit the Martha Stewart act, Damon. Have you just been sitting here drinking? By yourself? All night? Do you have any idea how pathetic that is?”
Elena is yet to speak. He knows she is there, can sense the coiled way she is holding herself at Stefan's side. He doesn't need to see her to know exactly the way her shoulder will be angled in to his brother; the way her raised eyes, looking up through coal black lashes, will blink out a balanced rhythm.
A balanced rhythm that completely unbalances him.
- - -
“Au contraire, dear brother...” He risks opening his eyes to cut short the steam-train of his thoughts. The world cracks neatly in two. All thought of Elena vanishes.
It is surprisingly effective. Pain. He shudders, swallows, breathes despite the lack of any requirement for it.
“...I had a very interesting visitor... Although, admittedly, she did turn down my offer of a drink so, in that respect I guess you're not far from the truth...”
“A very interesting visitor? Do I know her?”
“Indeed you do. In fact, you both know her.” Something shifts then. Tumbles end over end over end.
“Damon, what's going on?” There is spiked fear laced through her every syllable. Jarring distrust. It burns considerably more than perhaps it should. All things considered.
He forgets to expect little else.
“What do you mean?”
“Something's happened. I can tell. What's going on?” There's something else there now. In the way her words form and fall. It tastes a lot like concern in the back of his throat, coating his tongue, thick, and he has to swallow around it all to make it stop.
Please, stop.
- - -
“Damon?” His brother this time. The sound of his name from those lips, infinitely more familiar. He thinks they've both frozen where they stand. Mirrored tableaux of bewilderment and uncertainty.
“Oh, listen to you both. All scared and worried. I feel like I should be touched or something equally--”
“Damon, stand up.” He'd laugh if he didn't think he'd cry as well.
“What? Why? You don't want that. I'm drunk, I'll probably--”
“Stand up and look at us.”
There are cracks fast developing in his hastily constructed facade. Keeping the weight of the rushing water contained is an almost impossible undertaking.
And he has nothing left with which to push back.
“I can't.”
Everything gives way with an ear splitting shriek then. Dust and molten debris swirling vociferously in the cavernous spaces where his heart and lungs used to live.
- - -
“What have you done?”
“What happened to you?”
In unison with everything except the underlying implication.
“Well, there's a telling little moment right there...”
Toy puppets on strings. Marionette-like as they bobble and jerk into scrambled position, hands and knees and unbridled terror at his feet.
“Damon, just drop the bullshit for a second and talk to us. What's going on? Who came here? What did they do to you? What did you do to them?”
He drops the bottle of scotch heavily to the cushions beside him, leans his head back against the couch. Lets heavy lids slide sandpaper closed over eyes that fail to focus anyhow.
“Argh. So many questions. One, we're having this lovely conversation. That's what's going on. Two, your dear friend Bonnie came here. Only she wasn't so dear and she wasn't so friendly and--”
“What? Bonnie was--” Elena's breathless panic threatens to undo the parts of him that he's only just managing to keep together at the seams.
“Do you want me to finish?” He tilts his head and smirks because practice tells him that is what's expected.
None of this is what's expected.
“You said Bonnie--”
“I said, do you want me to finish?” He takes her trembling silence as a yes. The heat from human hands that hover just inches from contact is almost overwhelming.
“Three,” he continues, “I'm guessing it's a spell of some sort. That is what witches do isn't it? Spells and magic and all that hocus pocus. And four. Nothing. I didn't do anything to her. Oh, except kill her grandmother, apparently.”
- - -
Cotton wool and cumulonimbus clouds and he thinks he must have passed out somewhere along the line.
He's horizontal when he wakes, pushed to flat on the couch and with one eyelid forcefully dragged to open.
“His pupils are fully dilated.” Words bubble up to him through a viscous fog.
“What the hell?” A barely whispered slur of sounds that bump over one another on the way out.
“Shhh. We're gonna fix this...” And she always was his one saving grace.
Stefan is rumbling in the background. Static white noise that grates against frayed nerves. He wants him to shut up. Wants him to get the hell out. Wants him to leave him all alone. But there's heat pressing up against his side and tentative fingertips twisted into the hair above his ear and more than anything else, he wants that to never end.
“We're gonna fix this...”
He doesn't believe her. She doesn't believe herself.
“Elena.” Not Katherine. Elena. The chalk line that separates them fades more with each scuffed and stumbling pass.
“Shh. No. Stefan's calling everyone... There will be an answer for this.” The waver in her voice more than gives away her uncertainty.
“First aid for vampires, huh. The Red Cross have courses in just about everything these days...”
She smiles in spite of herself, lights up for a thunder crack and he matches the moment with a smirk of his own.
- - -
“Bonnie's not picking up.”
“Don't-”
“Shh, Damon. Wait.” Like he has plans to up and leave anytime soon. “We have to go and find her, Elena. She'll talk to you.”
Stefan is pacing. Punctuating each and every heavy step with the slap of his palm against his hip. It'd be comical if his own imminent demise wasn't the cause.
“Leave Bonnie-” He needs for them to know not to go after her. That she'll be no help. That she made her feelings on the matter more than crystal cut clear.
That this is so much more than just small-town witchcraft. But the words ebb and fade before they're even halfway to out loud and he's convinced they're no longer listening to him anyway.
Maybe they never were.
“Where do you think she'd be? Grab your coat, we can take my car.”
“Wait. Stefan. What? You want to look for her right now? We can't-”
“Yes, right now. She needs to fix this, Elena”
“We can't leave him-”
“She can fix this, Elena, she can... We need to find her-”
Words bumble and fall. Like tropical rain on his up-turned palms.
“Then you go.”
And even the weight of the air in the room changes in that loaded split second.
- - -
A beat. Another.
“What?” Confusion. And not all of it Stefan's as her words disorient him. Leave him reeling.
“I'm not leaving him-” She is defiant. This is not new.
That she is defiant for him most definitely is.
“Alaric's coming. So is Caroline.”
And he thinks his brother still can't quite see to the end of the tunnel they're all in. Sounds echo from one surface to the next, impossible to tie down with any sense of definitive finality.
“No, you're not listening to me, Stefan. I don't care if they're coming, I'm not leaving him.”
Part 3
Fandom: The Vampire Diaries (television series)
Characters/Pairings: General cast. Eventual Damon/Elena.
Word Count: 1800
Rating: M
Prompt: From
miss_blanche. Damon is in danger of some description and Stefan and Elena are standing aside helpless. Elena is distraught and certain feelings are revealed when Stefan questions her.Summary: Damon POV. Season 2 AU. He's right where she left him. A pathetic heap on the floor, forehead pressed to solid wall. Three seconds and fighting from an attempt to slam his face through the rock.
Author's Note: Title and cut text from “In The Veins Of Death Valley”, Birds of Tokyo.
Part 1: You tell me that everything is fine here, and you can handle it...
The silence following Bonnie's melodramatic arrival and subsequent departure is suffocating. The wind, so determined to flatten a swath through the landscape only moments earlier, fades to barely a rustle of distant leaves and the floating shadow of cloud across moonlight.
He half expects the volcano she ignited in his skull to fade out following her retreat.
That it fails to relent even an inch has his hands curled to fists and pushing at his temples.
He's right where she left him. A pathetic heap on the floor, forehead pressed to solid wall. Three seconds and fighting from an attempt to slam his face through the rock. He drags his cell phone from his pocket and dumps it on the rug by his left knee. Gives himself a moment to contemplate her words. To weigh up the pros and cons of a phone call to his brother.
To Elena.
Can't quite bring himself to give in enough to punch out the numbers.
And it all feels like surrender in the end anyway.
- - -
He makes it back to the couch. Manages to shuffle past the liquor cabinet and snag a new bottle on his way. Contemplates simply shattering the glass against his skull as he fumbles with the screw top for several blinks.
Forgoes a tumbler and drains the liquid straight from the narrow neck.
Figures alcohol poisioning has to be better than whatever unholy hell he's currently floating through.
The flames in the fireplace blur and bleed together before fading out. Minutes, hours, seconds, days pass. Scotch disappears down his throat. A chill settles deep in his bones. Uncomfortable. More uncomfortable than usual.
The grind of car tyre rolling over gravel is almost more than he can take but they're standing behind him then before he can do much of anything about it and so he slams his eyes to shut and grits his teeth and does his level best not to scream.
“And what have you kiddies been up to this fine evening?” Goes for default facetious and figures he almost pulls it off. “Murder and mayhem, I hope...”
“Hello to you too, Damon...” Pointed. Like somehow he already knows everything even though he doesn't actually know anything. At least, not yet. “Wait.” There it is. The other shoe drops with a resounding thud. “What the hell happened in here?”
“I don't know what you're talking about...” He figures denial will work for about-
“Seriously, Damon. What the hell?”
- two point five seconds. It is painfully predictable that way.
“Just a spot of redecorating. Haven't you heard?” His voice is a low growl. Quieter than usual but more deliberate. Every ounce of determination he has funneled desperately into sliding the words out in a way that won't raise the red flags to full mast before he's ready for them. Before his backup plan has been devised. Before some semblance of clawing control has been regained.
Convinced as he still is that he can handle this. Just... give him a minute to get his shit together and he'll handle it all.
“Trashed is the new black...”
- - -
He pushes the bottle of scotch back between his lips. Clamps his teeth around the lip and tilts his head back to just before boiling point. Swallows desperately. Oblivious to the liquid that spills, slippery slick across his fingers. Traces a trail of least resistance to his elbow.
Pools, dark black, on the faded denim covering his right thigh.
“Quit the Martha Stewart act, Damon. Have you just been sitting here drinking? By yourself? All night? Do you have any idea how pathetic that is?”
Elena is yet to speak. He knows she is there, can sense the coiled way she is holding herself at Stefan's side. He doesn't need to see her to know exactly the way her shoulder will be angled in to his brother; the way her raised eyes, looking up through coal black lashes, will blink out a balanced rhythm.
A balanced rhythm that completely unbalances him.
- - -
“Au contraire, dear brother...” He risks opening his eyes to cut short the steam-train of his thoughts. The world cracks neatly in two. All thought of Elena vanishes.
It is surprisingly effective. Pain. He shudders, swallows, breathes despite the lack of any requirement for it.
“...I had a very interesting visitor... Although, admittedly, she did turn down my offer of a drink so, in that respect I guess you're not far from the truth...”
“A very interesting visitor? Do I know her?”
“Indeed you do. In fact, you both know her.” Something shifts then. Tumbles end over end over end.
“Damon, what's going on?” There is spiked fear laced through her every syllable. Jarring distrust. It burns considerably more than perhaps it should. All things considered.
He forgets to expect little else.
“What do you mean?”
“Something's happened. I can tell. What's going on?” There's something else there now. In the way her words form and fall. It tastes a lot like concern in the back of his throat, coating his tongue, thick, and he has to swallow around it all to make it stop.
Please, stop.
- - -
“Damon?” His brother this time. The sound of his name from those lips, infinitely more familiar. He thinks they've both frozen where they stand. Mirrored tableaux of bewilderment and uncertainty.
“Oh, listen to you both. All scared and worried. I feel like I should be touched or something equally--”
“Damon, stand up.” He'd laugh if he didn't think he'd cry as well.
“What? Why? You don't want that. I'm drunk, I'll probably--”
“Stand up and look at us.”
There are cracks fast developing in his hastily constructed facade. Keeping the weight of the rushing water contained is an almost impossible undertaking.
And he has nothing left with which to push back.
“I can't.”
Everything gives way with an ear splitting shriek then. Dust and molten debris swirling vociferously in the cavernous spaces where his heart and lungs used to live.
- - -
“What have you done?”
“What happened to you?”
In unison with everything except the underlying implication.
“Well, there's a telling little moment right there...”
Toy puppets on strings. Marionette-like as they bobble and jerk into scrambled position, hands and knees and unbridled terror at his feet.
“Damon, just drop the bullshit for a second and talk to us. What's going on? Who came here? What did they do to you? What did you do to them?”
He drops the bottle of scotch heavily to the cushions beside him, leans his head back against the couch. Lets heavy lids slide sandpaper closed over eyes that fail to focus anyhow.
“Argh. So many questions. One, we're having this lovely conversation. That's what's going on. Two, your dear friend Bonnie came here. Only she wasn't so dear and she wasn't so friendly and--”
“What? Bonnie was--” Elena's breathless panic threatens to undo the parts of him that he's only just managing to keep together at the seams.
“Do you want me to finish?” He tilts his head and smirks because practice tells him that is what's expected.
None of this is what's expected.
“You said Bonnie--”
“I said, do you want me to finish?” He takes her trembling silence as a yes. The heat from human hands that hover just inches from contact is almost overwhelming.
“Three,” he continues, “I'm guessing it's a spell of some sort. That is what witches do isn't it? Spells and magic and all that hocus pocus. And four. Nothing. I didn't do anything to her. Oh, except kill her grandmother, apparently.”
- - -
Cotton wool and cumulonimbus clouds and he thinks he must have passed out somewhere along the line.
He's horizontal when he wakes, pushed to flat on the couch and with one eyelid forcefully dragged to open.
“His pupils are fully dilated.” Words bubble up to him through a viscous fog.
“What the hell?” A barely whispered slur of sounds that bump over one another on the way out.
“Shhh. We're gonna fix this...” And she always was his one saving grace.
Stefan is rumbling in the background. Static white noise that grates against frayed nerves. He wants him to shut up. Wants him to get the hell out. Wants him to leave him all alone. But there's heat pressing up against his side and tentative fingertips twisted into the hair above his ear and more than anything else, he wants that to never end.
“We're gonna fix this...”
He doesn't believe her. She doesn't believe herself.
“Elena.” Not Katherine. Elena. The chalk line that separates them fades more with each scuffed and stumbling pass.
“Shh. No. Stefan's calling everyone... There will be an answer for this.” The waver in her voice more than gives away her uncertainty.
“First aid for vampires, huh. The Red Cross have courses in just about everything these days...”
She smiles in spite of herself, lights up for a thunder crack and he matches the moment with a smirk of his own.
- - -
“Bonnie's not picking up.”
“Don't-”
“Shh, Damon. Wait.” Like he has plans to up and leave anytime soon. “We have to go and find her, Elena. She'll talk to you.”
Stefan is pacing. Punctuating each and every heavy step with the slap of his palm against his hip. It'd be comical if his own imminent demise wasn't the cause.
“Leave Bonnie-” He needs for them to know not to go after her. That she'll be no help. That she made her feelings on the matter more than crystal cut clear.
That this is so much more than just small-town witchcraft. But the words ebb and fade before they're even halfway to out loud and he's convinced they're no longer listening to him anyway.
Maybe they never were.
“Where do you think she'd be? Grab your coat, we can take my car.”
“Wait. Stefan. What? You want to look for her right now? We can't-”
“Yes, right now. She needs to fix this, Elena”
“We can't leave him-”
“She can fix this, Elena, she can... We need to find her-”
Words bumble and fall. Like tropical rain on his up-turned palms.
“Then you go.”
And even the weight of the air in the room changes in that loaded split second.
- - -
A beat. Another.
“What?” Confusion. And not all of it Stefan's as her words disorient him. Leave him reeling.
“I'm not leaving him-” She is defiant. This is not new.
That she is defiant for him most definitely is.
“Alaric's coming. So is Caroline.”
And he thinks his brother still can't quite see to the end of the tunnel they're all in. Sounds echo from one surface to the next, impossible to tie down with any sense of definitive finality.
“No, you're not listening to me, Stefan. I don't care if they're coming, I'm not leaving him.”
Part 3
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-11-22 04:13 pm (UTC)All that angst. "No you're not listening to me, Stefan. I don't care if they're coming. I'm not leaving him."
Hee!
Your writing style really lends itself to TVD.
*huggles Damon*
no subject
Date: 2010-11-23 12:16 am (UTC)And I am so glad my writing style suits this show because I am ADDICTED TO ITTTTT!!!
Poor Damon :(
He shall be forever destined for torture in my fics!
no subject
Date: 2010-11-22 06:18 pm (UTC)The first chapter--because it was all Judgey and Damon, I sort of didn't follow what was going on immediately, but the part that stands out to me the most is his concern for Stefan right there towards the end. That was just...so Damon. Guh. I love how he loves his baby bro.
As for this part, now that I fully comprehend your plot of Witches Doing Something Bad To Our Anti-Hero, I really like the disjointedness since Damon's head is all messed up, yet, surprisingly, he can still be snarky. That guy will snark right up until his last breath.
And *sigh* for the Damon/Elena stuff, like this:
But there's heat pressing up against his side and tentative fingertips twisted into the hair above his ear and more than anything else, he wants that to never end.
She smiles in spite of herself, lights up for a thunder crack and he matches the moment with a smirk of his own.
“What?” Confusion. And not all of it Stefan's as her words disorient him. Leave him reeling.
“I'm not leaving him-” She is defiant. This is not new.
That she is defiant for him most definitely is.
\o/
Please hurry with the next part!
Sorry for the edits, it's apparently too early on a Monday morning here.
no subject
Date: 2010-11-23 12:26 am (UTC)(I have not finished one Grey's Anatomy one because canon screwed it up beyond all recognition and I just coulnd't do it anymore!)
I have EVERY intention of finishing this one... and I definitely encourage the hunting me down thing if my updates are too slow!
I think 'snarky' is Damon's default. It's also a defense mechanism and I definitely believe he'd hang on to it until his very last moments (but, don't worry! There is NO INTENTION WHATSOEVER of killing him off in this!).
I'm glad you liked the D/E stuff... there is definitely more of that to come!
I will 'please hurry' with the next part, promise!
no subject
Date: 2010-11-22 10:15 pm (UTC)BUT OMG. IT IS GLORIOUS. I LOVE YOUR DAMON TO BITS. AND THE DAMON/ELENA IS FANTASTIC. AND I HAVE QUOTES TO QUOTE RIGHT BACK AT YOU WITH SQUEE.
no subject
Date: 2010-11-23 12:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-23 12:17 pm (UTC)Your dialogue is orgasmically good. I love how you've written Damon so far (and I flailed all over his 'snark through the pain' appraoch - that's so him!) And basically your characterisation rocks.
I also love the stop and start way you're writing here. I know incomplete sentences (thoughts?) are something you worry about but I REALLY dig it. Especially when Damon is so out of it.
And this is where my caps lock key can't help itself - ELENA BEING DEFIANT ABOUT DAMON. OH. OH. ELENA BEING DEFIANT AND LOYAL IS MY FAVOURITE THING EVER (WHETHER IT COMES TO JEREMY, BONNIE, CAROLINE MATT OR, STEFAN EVEN) SO WHEN IT'S ABOUT DAMON?
I DIE OF HAPPINESS, BASICALLY. MY FAVOURITE, FAVOURITE THING.
And your writing and descriptions are overal are superb, as always ♥
UPDATE! UPDATE WOMAN!
(I also approve of your Damon/Elena icon, btw :D)
no subject
Date: 2010-11-23 01:37 pm (UTC)Oooh, you have no idea how glad I am to hear you say that stuff about the dialogue in this! I usually steer well clear of it because I always feel like I SUCK at it, so SO MUCH FREAKING YAY!
And I definitely think Damon would be a snark first, admit to pain later kinda guy! (Oh, my favourite fictional kind!).
I'm also glad you wrote this...incomplete sentences (thoughts?) because 'thoughts' are exactly what I'm trying to portray here and in reality, who the hell thinks in properly formed sentences?! (At least, that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it!).
HEEEEEEEEEEE FOR CAPSLOCK FLAIL!! I AM SO GLAD YOU GAVE IN TO THE POWER OF THE CAPITAL LETTER! DEFIANT ELENA BEING DEFIANT FOR DAMON TOTALLY DESERVES CAPSLOCK FLAIL!
Oh, AND GUESS WHAT ELSE DESERVES CAPSLOCK FLAIL?!!! I only just remembered today that when I tried to watch "Bloodlines" THE LINK WAS BROKEN AND IT WOULDN'T WORK AND SO I WATCHED IT TONIGHT IN ALL IT'S "I TOTALLY SAVED YOUR LIFE" GLORY AND OMG OMG OMG!!!
(I will try to update v. soon!)
DAMON/ELENA ICON OF WIN!
no subject
Date: 2010-12-02 06:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-12-02 06:19 am (UTC)I hope chapter three lives up to your expectations! There is one more to come after that which should hopefully be done in a couple of days.
no subject
Date: 2010-12-22 09:50 am (UTC)Lolled at "“Murder and mayhem, I hope...”" Oh Damon... you hot snarker, you!
"“Seriously, Damon. What the hell?” " I'm not sure that Stefan would say that. Or the Martha Stewart comment a few lines on. Stefan strikes me as to clean cut for that. He seems a little too old school for it. Although he does seem to be getting a bit less tightly wound lately...
"“Trashed is the new black...”"And you can come and trash my house ANY day. I mean that.
"A balanced rhythm that completely unbalances him." I love the way you said that. I think very few things can do that to Damon. Just her and Kathrine.
"Damon, just drop the bullshit for a second and talk to us." Elena seems like too much of a goodgirl to say bullshit. But, around Damon, she just might. He might bring out her dark side as much as she brings out the good in him.
"And she always was his one saving grace." And she kills him. Those two. In the same scene you have Elena touching his hair... I literaly went aawwww. As much as I love how she does that I keep thinking that it kills him at thesame time. It is almost like it gives him hope. That one day she might choose him over Stefan. But... I''m thinking that Elena is much more loyal than that. I just watched season one again and it is pretty clear she loves Stefan. Even though she realises how dangerous he is (or can be). She can't stay away. And he felt that he had to know her even though it ment exposing himself as a vampire. These three kill me.
Maybe that is why this series works so well? The fact that the three main characters have all these dynamics going back at least a century.
Stefan and Elena openly fighting over Damon. I don't think we've seen that yet on the show. But it might happen. If they ever really have a serious fight, my bet would be her band with Damon being the reason. The way you describe it... She is defiant, like you say. Elena will dig her heels in if she feels she needs to.
Loved it...
no subject
Date: 2010-12-22 10:07 am (UTC)I don't think we have either... but that bit was the whole point of the prompt I was filling! Haha!
I'm not a fan of Stefan's at all and I've probably paid the least attention to him out of all the characters so yeah, I might not have him exactly right in this and I'm probably colouring his characterisation with my own inherent dislike... Oops!
And I think Elena has the potential to be far from a good girl around Damon! At least... I DEFINITELY HOPE SO!
no subject
Date: 2010-12-22 11:20 am (UTC)I would love to see Elena being really honest about Damon and to Damon. I wonder how she would have responded to him saying he loved her. He was really opening up there... I wonder if she believe him this time or throw it in his face again...