Meticulous -> Eric does pay attention to detail, but mostly to the behavior of people rather than to objects.
Intelligent -> Eric is not exceptionally intelligent, he’s no genius, but he does have a good set of brains.
Practical -> Even though he’s a big fan of science fiction and fantasy, that’s just that: fantasy. He prefers the practical approach.
Analytical -> Eric does have the tendency to think black and white, but he tries to see the gray as well. This, however, is rather a negative than a positive trait.
Reliable -> This needs no explanation, Eric is reliable.
Modest -> Just like any typical UES guy, Eric can brag, but he’s definitely not conceited either.
Negative traits:
Overcritical -> He can be overcritical, but mostly about himself.
Fussy -> Eric’s isn’t really a fussy person.
Fastidious -> Once again, if Eric isn’t quickly pleased, it’s mostly with himself. However, once he has lost respect for someone, he is fastidious and it will take a lot to please him.
Harsh -> Nah man, Eric isn’t harsh, only when he’s really angry with someone.
Conservative -> Eric is anything but conservative.
Judgmental -> Yes, Eric can be judgmental. He’s improved ever since going to college, because of what he’s been through and because of the diversity of people at school, but he’s still guilty of stereotype first impressions.
From the moment Beatrice Marie Grimaldi was born, she was bound to live a modern fairytale. The youngest daughter of the next king, a beautiful and intelligent princess as the people had wished for the sovereign family, needed only to keep her image as incapable as the one of a newborn, with a bright future ahead and no mistakes, no disappointments, while her brother learned how to take care of the matters of state. Once, she had admired him for his free-spirits and the fervent passion he had for everything that surrounded him, so similar and yet so different from his sister. Louis was not a fool, she knew it, and even as a child his rebellious acts never got to the point of no return, which ended up with both children laughing while alone. It seemed like forever ago since Louis felt like a brother to her, for she couldn’t point out the moment when she realized he would never be truly dedicated to their country and people and their differences pulled them apart; the young prince didn’t need a collected and quiet sister by his side when he wanted to have fun, and she loathed the idea of staining her image just for the sake of a few drinks. Louis grew to wish his own fairytale, while Beatrice leaned that there was no such thing.
Still, it was Louis the person her parents saw as the next Grimaldi to rule Monaco, despite all his mistakes and clear disgust for being kept from a world he wished to see more than anything. The realization that her efforts would never be enough, regardless of what she did to show it and how many times she had proven that she should be the heir, not for its perks but because Beatrice truly cared for those above her, was in vain hurt the young girl deeply. Deeply enough for her to distance herself emotionally not only from the older brother that once had a place in her heart, but the rest of the family and, as a consequence, everyone else that got too close for comfort. Caring for anything at all made her weak, and Beatrice was far from that.
Exhaling a shallow breath, the brunette entered the penthouse in silence, surprised that one of her body-guards didn’t rush to take her purse or jacket. Taking a moment to glance around, the petite brunette realized how quiet the house was, something she couldn’t remember happening from the day they arrived. Her heels clicked against the floor, quicker than usual as she made her way to the living room, doe eyes widen the moment the image of her mother and brother entangled in a tight embrace appeared before her. “Maman?” she whispered confusedly. Louis turned to her almost immediately, a stern look on his face. “What happened?” Beatrice knew they were hiding something from her, protecting her, it was obvious in the way their eyes flickered to one another, surely looking for a way to give her some news she wouldn’t like to hear. Was it really necessary to bring the queen, though?
The impatience shook Beatrice to her core, particularly when her brother’s arm wrapped around her shoulder protectively. Doe eyes moved up, trying to read in his expressions what in heavens could have happened to make him think this display of affection was okay. Judging by the way her mother was fighting back tears, she knew it would be her brother to speak up. “Grand-père,” he mumbled. Beatrice’s first instinct when her brother pulled her close was to push him away, hand pressed to his chest stubbornly. This was beyond unacceptable, she had the right to know what was going on, especially if it was about her grandfather. He was the one to teach her everything, to hold her up when no one seemed to notice the princess was crumbling down; it was his genuine smile that gave her strength, and she knew that, unlike everyone else, the old man saw her as the light of his life, the granddaughter that turned out to inherit his personality. “Just say it, Louis,” Bea snapped, and he nodded.
The pain in Louis’ eyes was enough to allow the fear to weaken her, but she refused to show it. At least until he finally decided to continue, voice caught up in his throat. “Something happened, he... Someone---” This time Beatrice was the one to stop his line of thought, a sob escaping her lips. Her fingers curled against her Louis’ shirt, eyes filling with tears as she shook her head repeatedly. Beatrice felt like a child again, her weight only supported by her older brother’s shaky arms, muffling the sobs against his chest. “No, no. Don’t do this, please. Louis, please, stop it. No.” The pain threatened to shatter her completely, forcing her to remember a voice that she would no longer hear saying that even a princess had to hold her chin high and be strong, show nothing other than strength. Could someone truly be strong when there was no one else to care for her? For the first time since she had moved to New York, the brunette felt her brother’s presence stronger than ever and still so utterly alone. It was all his fault for wanting to come to America, otherwise she would have been with him. She should have stayed, ignored Louis’ wishes completely and just stayed by her grandpa’s side.
Still, so awfully lost in her pain, Beatrice was still aware of her brother’s tears and, pushing away all the hate she harbored for him, her small hands moved up to cup his cheeks and hold him close, brushing off the tears that ran down so silently. Louis smiled sadly, lips pressed to her forehead when her mother finally spoke the words she didn’t want to hear. “Bea, my love, I know you don’t want to hear any of this at the moment, but it’s demanding that you stay in New York with your brother. ---Taking you two back to Monaco now could put you two at risk, and we can’t afford that. Not until we find out who did this. Your brother agrees.”
The Queen was right, though; Beatrice didn’t want to hear anything at all. She just wanted to erase that year from her life and forget that, not only she was still in the same position as before, she had lost the person she cared the most. And this time, not even her title could bring it back.
After several hours of studying, Caroline decided she needed a well-deserved break. Pushing her books to the side, she stepped away from her desk and went to the kitchen. Her mom was out at some dinner with investors for the community center, so she was on her own when it came to feeding herself. Not that she minded much. She made a quick call to her favorite sushi place nearby, then sent Sophia out to go and retrieve it. The perks of having a loyal housekeeper. While she waited, she went into the fridge and pulled out a bottle of champagne, popping it open and pouring herself a glass. As she took a small sip, she began to think about the school year she was reaching the end of.
It seemed like so much had changed in Caroline since she started junior year, but some things hadn’t. She was still at an unspoken war with Blair, who was somehow still on top and ruling as Queen Bee. Perhaps senior year was finally the year she’d overthrow her. She was also still sort of estranged from Matty. After their relationship ended, she felt lost, and she still wished that she could find a way to make things better between them. She missed the Brooklyn boy, and she missed how he made her feel. He kept her centered most days, even if she was still so wrapped up in her mission to bring down Blair. That was the epicenter of her problem. Blair Waldorf. The bitch was still on top of everything and she was still forced to serve her as if she didn’t deserve it more. Which she did. Obviously.
She still had her friends, but things had changed with a few of them. Bonnie had disappeared for a while, but she was glad that the girl was finally home in time to spend the summer and their senior year together. Elena was still Elena, in all her perfection and grace. She envied her as much as she loved her, and still desperately wished that she had been the one to capture Stefan’s affection. Thinking of Stefan, Caroline sighed and took a larger sip of her champagne. She moved over to the windows, looking out at the Upper East Side as the sun set in the distance. Not that she could see it past the buildings. She could see the amber glow of the sky and the different shades of crimson and violet that had her mesmerized, if only momentarily.
Soon enough, she was brought back to her thoughts, those regarding Stefan Salvatore more specifically. Things were so complicated now with Stefan. She hadn’t spoken to him since their argument prior to him checking into rehab, and she honestly had no idea where she stood with him. She wasn’t sure if he was still angry with her for sticking her nose where it didn’t belong, if he’d found a way to forgive her but didn’t want her around, or if their friendship was over completely. Not to mention what he would think about her growing relationship with Damon.
Damon Salvatore surprised her. It wasn’t like she had deeper feelings for him, but she was beginning to understand him a bit better. She was beginning to understand who he was, what he’d been through, and what he could be if he only cared enough to work on it. At the end of the day, Damon was a good man, and someone she valued nowadays. Their relationship had started out as just sex, but the more they got to know each other, the more she could see them actually becoming friends. It was a strange concept, but she was oddly comforted by it.
Taking another sip of her champagne, she took a deep breath. Junior year had been challenging. The worst time of her life had happened this year during spring break. Thomas had been dead for months now, but the memory of his death was still so fresh in her mind. Her nightmares had significantly lessened, but every once in a while, she’d wake up covered in sweat with a cry ripping through her. She didn’t think that she’d ever escape the pain of that night, but each day that passed, the vice around her heart lessened. She could only hope that some day she’d be able to live without that vice and miss Thomas instead of grieving him.
Junior year had been challenging, but overall, she felt it to be a success. Her grades were top-notch, her extracurriculars were practically countless, and by the time college application time came around, she would surely get accepted wherever she applied. The Forbes name did carry some weight after all. Her thoughts were interrupted when Sophia called her name, alerting her that she had her sushi. “Thank you Sophia,” she replied, smiling softly. “You can leave it on the counter... And go home. I’ll be okay for the rest of the night. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she told her, watching her grab her things and leave. She downed the rest of her champagne, letting out a soft sigh, and went to bring her food back to her room. She had a bit more studying to do before she could enjoy the rest of her night.
Her brittle heart burst like a gas balloon, and her crooked soul shattered like the frailest of glasses at the mere thought of visiting that day the place where death conquers and stands tall, mocking everyone—waiting for everyone. It was almost as unbearable as the fact that her parents’ graves where approximately 418.3 miles away, and she wondered if someone had brought her mother’s favorite flowers, white orchids, to replace wilted lilacs for their death anniversary, or if anyone back in Virginia remembered the two most loving people she had ever met at all. Exhaustion settled limply in each of her splintered bones, and against all odds, Elena found the strength to get out of bed that day, feet dragging her to the cemetery with a pen and her diary dangling inside her bag. There was something eerily calming in the peaceful silence the graveyard had to offer, and she wasn’t sure a regular, sane person would spend as much time amidst forgotten tombstones and dried-out flowers as she did, ‘just hanging out’ being the reasoning behind it all.
Meandering absentmindedly for a couple of minutes, she let her body drop gently under a tree, the leather fabric of her jacket against wood as her head tilted back. Clouds were incessantly trying to hide the sun behind their cotton-shaped selves, sunbeams putting on a fight to carry through its one single job: to bestow warmth. But its touch hardly did something to Elena’s skin, a steely exterior matching the hollowness inside, one that her chocolate doe eyes make sure to hide with a sugar-coated mask—perhaps out of pure embarrassment over an emptiness and sorrowfulness she should have gotten rid of by now.
She had so many tales to tell—to write about, but most of the time she couldn’t find the words, and in other occasions she had a feeling there wasn’t enough ink in the world to explain how she felt, how contradictions lived within her. Because telling the story of how she became friends with a royal princess was lovelier than the one where she became the victim of her own story at the hands of someone she trusted. Telling the story of how she found a sister in a city that doesn’t feel like home was more hopeful than the one where being a sister was the one job she was failing at; and how she wanted to feel alive, but sometimes it was the grim reaper holding her hand at 2AM when she couldn’t sleep.
The diary was opened and ready to be written in, to narrate the stories about demons and monsters that hid under her bed and came out to play in the shadows—but those are the stories she would never forget, and if she ever did, writing them in her journal would only keep them alive when all she wished was to bury them ten feet under. Instead of a pen grazing white pages, she took a deep breath in and out, eyes set on the tombstone nearby.
“I’ve aced most of my exams,” she let out unintentionally, words laced solemnly. “My GPA didn’t falter, so I guess that’s good. I did get help, though.” Slight disappointment merged with gratitude weakly curved her lips upward, flashing a smile to whoever was around ( spoiler alert: no one ). “I suppose showing a bit of mercy and understanding to the girl that lost her parents is a popular conception. At least I didn’t have to hear the infamous ‘I’m sorry your parents died’ speech, we could just pretend. It was a win-win,” she acknowledged a little drolly, the situation itself seeming like a joke she truly wanted to laugh at. “If the teachers’ lounge isn’t a Gossip Girl worship zone I’d be greatly disappointed.” Because they knew—the whole faculty knew, and Elena ascertained it by the look they gave her whenever she forgot to do her homework or didn’t know the correct answer in History. It did take her a while to get back on her feet as her education was concerned, but she quickly considered a distraction she could take advantage of.
“I don’t know what I’m gonna do after graduation,” she breathed out after a pause, pinching her lips. “How is it than some people have it all mapped out? How can they think so far ahead that they know what they want to do with the rest of their lives? Believe so blindly in the future?” She pondered muddled, hand reaching the back of her neck. “I can’t be a writer anymore—not if she’s not here. It’s not the same.” Shaking her head, Elena sighed again, licking her lips quickly. She wasn’t a believer. Elena didn’t believe in spirits, her life wasn’t an episode of Ghostbusters—if someone was dead, that was the end of it. She didn’t believe in that copious comment she so heard at their funeral: they will always be with you. Because even if for a split of second that were to be real, Elena would’ve waved goodbye the loneliness long time ago. Chatting with dead people that weren’t related to her was definitely another level of lugubrious no one needed to know about, but it was the closest thing she had to her parents in that moment, sharing one common factor: they would never come back.
“Did you have it all figured it out…” Propping herself up a bit, she read the deceased’s name. “---Henry? I’ve got a year left, but time does fly. It’s been a year and I still—I still feel like I just woke up in the hospital after the accident; like… there’s still water in my lugs.” Although there was a minuscule lump stuck in her throat, oddly enough the usual urge of crying her eyes out was not there. Like Patrick Gale in one of this publications, perhaps ‘her grief was horribly discreet but as persistent and almost as silent as bleeding from an unstitched wound’, and if that were to be true, it was no good indication.
She was seventeen. Wasn’t she supposed to be dancing and jiving, thinking about prom dresses, checking her horoscope daily and obsessing over TV shows? Having the time of her life? Weren’t these meant to be the years she would tell her grandchildren about one day? But how could she even try to be happy when no one around her seemed to be either?
Her thoughts cut themselves off as, looking over her shoulder, she heard voices coming her way—it was her cue to leave. Standing up, Elena’s hand ironed her jeans, palms brushing off the dirt. “Well Henry, it was nice meeting you.” Yep, definitely not what a sane person’d do. “I’m Elena, by the way. And if you’ve got any advice from the afterlife to help a girl out, it’d pretty cool if you showed me a sign,” she pleaded, both hands rising up in the air and falling to her sides once she was certain no one was going to answer. “Nothing? No? ‘kay. Let’s hope I don’t make a grave mistake in the future, wouldn’t want to mortify you or anything—okay, that was bad… bye.”
The bad timing of her puns are almost as ridiculous as the fact that, in retrospective, she was in an overall worse situation than last year. Her heart beat like a hammer inside her rib cage, hoping someone would listen to it and everything left unsaid. Be strong, she reminded herself more times that she could count, because if she wasn’t at least trying to be, what else was there? The only silver lining her mind spring up in that moment was her junior year of high school had ended successfully, because it felt as though every other aspect of her life was hanging on by thin thread, like there was no stability whatsoever and she didn’t know how to fix it. It’d be easier if there was someone to blame, but who? Happiness didn’t unravel in her features as she walked away, but it wasn’t unhappiness either---just something in-between, in the middle of nowhere.
Fix it. She had to fix it—fix herself up like her father did, stitching broken skin back together. To stop dwelling in any kind of form of fear the future was steering her into, or even the sadness and grievance the past wouldn’t let her forget. There was a present right in front of her eyes, and she had to live in it. Sure, maybe she would never be whole again, not completely, but she could learn to fill the cracks with all those thoughts that shone through the darkness she held within. For her family, for her friends, and for herself, for everything she knew it was still worth fighting for.
