(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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Prim lay flat on her back, grunting as small rocks dig into her back every time she breathed. It had been a few hours since she'd watched Stefan make his way through the supply of blood like he was an animal before being dragged off by Damon. She found it amusing how they both seemed to freeze at the sight of her, she could see the undeniable guilt surge through them when they looked her way.
"Wakey, wakey Rosie!" Damon shouted, banging his hand against the metal of the door. He heard her groan, and her feet beginning to shuffle, it was silent after that. He came closer to the bars, attempting to look further inside.
"Boo." Prim snarled at him, her red eyes and thick veins greeting his startled figure. He jumped back slightly, causing her to smirk the rest of her face completely void like all the life had been sucked out. "Scaredy cat."
Damon rolled his eyes, lifting a blood bag to the window. "Got you something." He announced with a sly smile, one she tilted her head at.
"What's the catch?" She asked, stepping closer and wrapping her fists around the small bars.
"No catch." Prim scoffed at him, her eyebrows raised. He pushed his forearm through one of the gaps in the small barred window, waving it teasingly in front of her nose. "You know you want it, Prim. So take it. Go on, it's yours."
She flicked her eyes between him and the bag full of food that was begging her to sink her teeth into. Prim stepped closer, lowering her head to the bag. She quickly snatched it out of his hands, causing him to smirk.
The bag came flying out of her small cell, colliding with the wall right next to his head. Some droplets bounced onto his skin making it sizzle and Damon wince while wiping it off his skin. "Vervain in the blood bag?" Prim Spoke, his head snapping up to her with a furious expression laced on his face. "Stings...doesn't it? Although it was quite smart, I'll give you that."
He stared at her as she lay in the center of the small room, anger and annoyance rising into his bloodstream. She disappeared back into the room, sliding down a wall and sitting on the floor.
"No one likes this version of you." He snapped at her.
She looked up to him while rolling her eyes. "Goodbye Damon." She spoke firmly, turning her head back to the floor.
Damon scoffed and turned to walk back up the stairs. He made his way to the living room, grabbing a glass and a bottle of bourbon. He looked between the two for a minute, before placing the cup back and pulling the lid off the bottle, pouring the contents down his empty throat.
