bonnie’s hostility isn’t unexpected. the years have stretched between them, more distance than familiarity left now. he’s equally as culpable as she, having left the country in a bid to escape the painful memories; after stefan, enzo, and then elena. when all you had left shared between you was ghosts, it was easy to disconnect. ( not to say that he didn’t hate it. didn’t compose text messages he’d never send, didn’t talk to strangers in bars when he wanted to talk to her. ) “ quiet’s overrated. admit it, you like the chaos. it puts a spring in your step. ” his lip twitches at the impulsive vampirecomment, doesn’t correct her just yet. ( a lot’s changed since they last saw each other. some for the better, some for the worse. ) he continues obnoxiously munching, each chip popped into his mouth with purpose. he’s irritating by design, finds himself pushing and pushing even when he knows he should stop. he sees limits, knows what he should do, but pushes forward anyway. he never learns his lessons. or if he does, he pretends he doesn’t. it’s a thing. “ i don’t want anything. ” he pauses, corrects. “ well, that’s not true. ” he tosses the chips, rises to his feet. the sooner he gets this over with, the sooner he can continue on with the ‘ damon salvatore apology tour ’ – turns out, he’s hurt, pissed off, or killed, so many people that the list might never end. “ i wanted to talk to you. consider this an olive branch, or whatever the witchy equivalent is. ” he waves a hand, hiding genuine intent behind glib words and dismissals like he always does – like he’s good at. “ don’t get weird about it but i missed you. ” it’s said almost painfully, dropped casually before tagging on the explosive revelations. “ elena did too. she’ll be happy to see you. ” his eyes are bright, a genuine smile warming his features. no smirk, no double entendre; he means this. “ she’s back, bon-bon. no tricks. cross my heart, hope to die. ” he pauses, corrects. “ or NOT DIE. it’d be a let down to choose this happy, human, life, only to run it into the ground this quick. ” he says it like a joke but there’s a hardness to it. he’d almost done just that; lost everything he wanted. he was still trying to pick up the pieces, fix the broken parts, but that’s life – a work in progress.
❝ you’re right , damon - the chaos and death that you brought to me and to every single person i loved was the highlight of my life . of course i know that you want something , you’re damon salvatore . and if you don’t get what you want , you skip town and don’t bother to call up anyone for years . you’re not as unpredictable as you think you are , or as brave . ❞ tongue is sharper now - she wonders if he notices that there’s a shift in her character, a dramatic shedding of skin. here she has sliced away at the weaker, softer parts of the old bonnie bennett - replaced it with self-preservation and a cynicism that runs deep. thank kai parker for that lesson learned : in order to avoid being stabbed in the back is to be the one always holding the knife, no matter what pleading words fall out of pretty devils’ lips. she’s unsure if she likes this identity ; the thicker pads of her feet, the less hours of sleep, the stuttering of pulse at every loud, unexpected noise. she feels an eerie sensation of godliness forming inside of her, causes her to be haunted by hallucinations and hears too many whispers of the dead - lineage seeping through her body like she was wet linen. death, after all, had claimed her many times - forced her to look at herself through the veil of time and existence, made herself look more immortalized, untouchable. she thinks if she focuses on toughening the ribs around her chest, then maybe her heart can stop breaking. maybe, if she is stronger now, there will be no more aching emptiness, no more loneliness that roars in her eardrums when she sits on the floor and prays. there’s a slight sting in her chest and she’s confused with the translation : the anger is both directed at damon and because of him, yet there is a gentle throbbing in her head and she knows that it’s mostly made up of relief and resentment. she thinks about burning him up, melting his flesh off, breaking all his bones and relentlessly banning any healing to commence. it is an impulse, an aggressive facade of her own protection, yet she stills momentarily - his words creaking through her mind and settling there with an uneasiness. brows furrowing as her eyes narrow, a jolt of her spine as she faces him fully - attention immediately focused only on him and the lack of coldness he carries, so unlike the familiar vampire nature she had come to know. mouth goes dry and there’s a thudding of her pulse in her ears, she hates this part - the realization that things are changing once more and all her habitual facts are in a disarray, in ruins. she bites down on the tip of her tongue, a flurry of emotions for seeing her best friend again - her sister, her soul mate. the dread follows quickly, ancestors whispering in the back of her head the warnings and the guidelines of resurrection. a hushed out answer, although there is a softening in her voice - yet don’t be fooled, forgiveness is still very much not on the offering table. ❝ if she’s back , that means that something had to have been exchanged - there’s a price for everything . you’re human ? how ? when ? ❞
