enjoythe_ride: ([bela] gun to head)
[personal profile] enjoythe_ride
Bela met Gloria when she was seventeen years-old, and was still going by her legal name.

She was following clues. It had taken her three years to realize what it was she had really done when she killed her parents, and those were three years wasted in her mind. She only had seven left now, and finding a way out of this mess was going to take time. Unfortunately for Bela, the clock was ticking.

She didn’t waste time.

She followed every lead, every clue, used every resource she had, and eventually the clues lead her right to Gloria’s doorstep. She arrived at the bar during the day, when none of the regular patrons were around. Gloria was behind the bar, working, and when she glanced up, the most Bela got was a derisive shake of her head.

“You’re a little too young to be in here.”

Bela straightened, trying to make herself seem bigger that she was. It was all false bravado, and she couldn’t say she was very good at it, but for a moment it seemed to work. “Good thing I’m not here for a drink, then.”

That seemed to get Gloria’s attention more or less. She straightened a bit herself, already getting on the defensive, which wasn’t what Abby wanted. She wanted Gloria’s help. “What’s your name, girl?”

*** )
braveandstupid: ([elena] not looking)
[personal profile] braveandstupid
Isobel once told her that so long as she had a Salvatore on each arm, she was doomed.

It took her another year to really understand what that meant.

Klaus, losing Stefan, seeing what a monster he’d become in the process—it was enough for her to see that vampires in her life were only going to lead to more heartache and pain. She should have walked away from it all, long ago, and if she didn’t love him, she would have, but in the end, she learned that love was never going to be enough.

She loved Stefan. She would always love Stefan. But she needed to live, and she couldn’t do that clinging to someone who was already dead. She needed to stop fighting for Stefan and start fighting for herself.

It was a late night around Christmas when she made the decision. She had done all the obligatory applying to the schools that everyone expected her to apply to—ivy league schools where she would have her future ahead of her and no reason to look back. She was sitting in the kitchen in the middle of the night, and the realization hits her like a smack in the face. The only way she was going to get what she wanted was to get away. The postcard for Lancer was sitting on the kitchen counter. She took a risk and she ran with it.

*** )

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The only word left is goodbye

May 2017

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