Rowing the Rarepair Rowboat: Lizzie Saltzman x Penelope Park (Legacies)
“Well, well, well. What do we have here?”
The familiar voice sends Lizzie reeling. She nearly knocks over the book stand next to her in her haste to turn around and make sure she isn’t just imagining it. But she isn’t.
Penelope does that little tilt of her head and the obnoxious smile, and she bats her eyes and her long lashes like she’s hoping to convince Lizzie to buy her a drink. Her hair is slightly shorter than Lizzie remembers, choppier, and tucked behind both ears to show off the big gold hoops framing her face.
It’s such a sophisticated look paired with the long cream coat and orange sweater. So casually elegant and, admittedly, incredibly pretty. But that’s nothing new.
What’s new is how Lizzie doesn’t feel strangling her with one spell the second she lays eyes on her. There’s a brief flicker of old loathing, long forgotten after years, and it sinks back into that dark crevice where she’s been storing a lot of her old feelings this last year or so.
“Lizzie Saltzman,” Penelope says, and her voice is as smoothly taunting as always. Her eyes flick down her frame once, then take their time roaming back up to her face. Her smirk twitches. “You look different.”
“Laughlin, not Saltzman,” Lizzie corrects, and Penelope raises an eyebrow. “My dad died and I thought a change would be a good way to process it.” She shrugs. “That and I needed a new name. Easier to fly under the radar.”
Penelope crosses her arms. “I’m officially intrigued.” Then something flickers across her face and her smug facade goes with it. “I’m… sorry to hear about your dad. How’s Josie?”
Lizzie rolls her eyes. “Of course that’s your first question. Well, I don’t know. I haven’t seen or heard from Josie in a year.”
That seems to surprise Penelope more than anything. “Seriously? Wow. A lot more is different than I thought.”
“Oh, more than you would believe,” Lizzie tells her. At the prompting look, she lets her senses hone in on the pulse in front of her.
It’s just a second. A second where she can feel her veins ripple with hunger and greed, her stomach clawing and clambering for a reward for being so empty for so long. A second where her eyes darken to pools of blood.
It’s enough for Penelope to understand. Her breath catches on a sharp intake. Lizzie hears her heartbeat stutter just beneath her skin and the way it doesn’t manage to right itself. It’s rhythm sounds like a jackrabbit running from a fox.
“You’re…?” Penelope asks.
“Mhm.” Lizzie sighs and turns back to the book stand, continuing her search through the titles. “I can thank the three-blooded fairytale mashup for that. Big bad wolf meets evil witch meets… Dracula? I don’t know, there aren’t really vampires in your typical fairytales, are there?”
She turns the stand to the other side and picks up a yellow-covered book. Some cheesy romance road-trip from a glance at the illustration on the front. She puts it back.
“Wait,” Penelope is suddenly right beside her, her voice lowering to a hiss, “Hope turned you?”
Lizzie raises one shoulder in a shrug. “Sort of. It’s complicated.”
“But…” Penelope shakes her head, her eyes wide with genuine shock. “Hope wouldn’t… she killed you?”
Frowning, Lizzie stares at her. “Where have you been? Have you not been hearing about the string of murders all over the world, starting in our beloved Mystic Falls and ranging all the way to ye olde England? Hope turned and her humanity went with it.”
“That…” Penelope can only make a noise of disbelief. “I can’t believe any of this.”
“I guess you had the right idea.” Lizzie grabs a book from the stand, making up her mind. “Leaving Mystic Falls. Well, you and Jo. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
“Wait! Uh… what the hell. I’m going to this party later tonight. It’s at my friend’s house. Feel free to come along. You could tell me what else I’ve missed.”
It’s Lizzie’s turn to be in disbelief. For a moment, she hadn’t felt like she was talking to Penelope Park like an old friend, but having her invite her somewhere is a startling shock back to reality.
She plays it cool, merely shrugging as she says, “Maybe I will.” Only, when she goes to turn away, she has to pause and turn back to ask, “Where does your friend live? Just, you know, in case I do decide to go. Which I probably won’t.”
Penelope’s smirk is back but there’s something different about it now. Maybe it’s just Lizzie, but it doesn’t make her look as much like an obnoxious demon as it did back at school. It’s kind of… warm, making her face look a little bit friendlier.
God, she must really be going through a blood withdrawal. She needs to feed ASAP.
“Check your hand,” Penelope says, and flicks her finger in a quick swirl. She then winks and turns on her heel, walking across to the other side of the store to order a coffee.
Lizzie checks her hand. Penelope’s distinctive cursive is scrawled across her skin with an address. Is she really going to humour this? A party with Penelope Park and what is probably going to be a bunch of her stuck-up friends?
She taps her fingers lightly against her book, then she goes to pay for it. As she’s leaving, her eyes do a last scan of the store and lock back onto Penelope. She’s staring right back, now seated at a table by the window.
Penelope takes a drink from her cup and gives a light flutter of her fingers. Lizzie hurriedly leaves the store and forces herself not to look back at her again as she passes the window.
