(On Hold)
ᴛʀᴏᴜᴠᴀɪʟʟᴇ ( ɴ )
~ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ʟᴏᴠᴇʟʏ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏᴠᴇʀᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴄʜᴀɴᴄᴇ
Stefan Salvatore swore he met the love of his life at the age of Seven. Primrose Gilbert was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, until 1864, when she was killed...
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The sound of booming thunder and crackling clouds bounced around Stefan's earlobes. He felt a warm liquid run down his arms and torso, a low sizzling sound and sting followed shortly behind. He felt a soft palm touch his face, the pad of a gentle thumb stroking at his cheekbone. A strong wave of vanilla and strawberries invaded his nostrils, sending a great comfort through his body. A comfort that he hadn't had in a very long time. A smooth muffled voice broke into his foggy ears, almost begging him to listen.
"Stefan... Stef, wake up." A soothing, gentle voice whispered out to him, his body reacting almost instantly. He squinted his eyes away from the dull orange glow of the buzzing light above his head, his eyes settling on a forest of green laying in familiar eyes of the person caressing his face. His eyes ran along her face in a frenzy. She had a soft smile on her tinted, slightly cracked, pink lips, her skin was a shade away from porcelain, and her blonde hair glowing in the dim light of the basement. She as looked heavenly as she did all those years ago.
He looked up at the sound of sizzling, his senses coming back clearer than his previous deluded state. His wrists burning against the vervain-soaked ropes, a knife slash across his chest, and his feet only touching the floor by a hair. He expected to look back down to see the girl gone, it always happened this way. Even in his worst states, she was able to breakthrough. Something people tend to use to their advantage.
Lexi often used the girl as a key to retrieve his humanity, using his memories of her against him. "Stefan!" She whispered hurriedly at him, grabbing his attention. She was different from all the other times his mind would make her appear. Her hair wasn't in the braided bun she always wore at the back of her head, she wasn't wearing a pale-yellow dress with small white flowers all over the large skirt. She didn't wear a bonnet like she used to, nor a corset.
She was dressed modernly.
The only thing that was the same, was the silver bracelet that hung on her wrist near his face, and the necklace he'd never seen her without.
"You're not real. Go away." Stefan grunted through gritted teeth, attempting to pull at his wrists.
"No need to be so hostile, Stef. I'm only trying to help." The girl snapped back in a whisper, causing his head to snap back to her. He had completely frozen. The girl in front of him had been dead since 1864. There was no way.
The creaking of wood broke his thoughts. He turned his head and saw a dark-skinned man who had previously defended him against Frederick. He was now sitting on an old chair beside him, two stakes planted in his legs and arms bounded behind his back, holding him in place. Stefan noticed that the man was also looking directly at Prim, although he wore a face of pity.
