Live and let live

I would have said goodbye || Savier

infernosdaughter

It’s almost ironic how easy it is for Airiana to laugh amidst all the tears and constant sniffles. How simply just the tiniest upturn of the corner of Logan’s lips makes her feel okay. He’s always made her feel comfortable, that’s the thing she liked about him. Logan never ever made Airiana feel like she was gonna catch fire and blow up.

He was steady.

And she liked that.

But there was blood on the carpet, and blood on her hands, and blood on his everywhere, and just blood, blood, blood. And for a moment, for a split second, she forgets about all of that blood. Forgets that her almost-boyfriend is bleeding out all over Damon’s carpet and that things couldn’t possibly be any worse, but they are.

Fuckin’ Logan.

"Kol?" She sniffs, her own lips turning upwards in a pathetically sad smile. "Kol, of course it was Kol." But it falls just as quickly as it came, her labored breaths returning and she’s finding Logan, who literally has a punctured lung, is breathing far easier than she is.

God, she is pathetic.

Logan doesn’t seem to care though. He’s just as calm and as steady as he’s ever been, moving his hand over her own and placing it palm first over the planks of his chest hard, warm, and slick with blood.

She wishes she could take more comfort in his sussuruss of consolations, but she can’t seem to catch her breath. Can’t seem to stop looking at him as if this is the last time she will, and it might. Airiana has only felt this scared one other time in her life, and both times, she wasn’t the one dying.

It seems that that is when death seems the scariest. When it is up to you to decide whether someone lives or dies. Whether or not you grant them life over death.

Time to play god, Airiana. Are you ready?

He manages to fool her, because no matter what anyone says about her, Airiana always falls for the pretty things. Because not all that glitters is gold, but it still fuckin’ glitters. And Airiana is a sucker for the pretty things.

The sweet rumble of his voice does fool her, he does manage to convince her that he’s more okay than he actually is. He even managed to take his own shirt off and everything. (And yeah, this was the only time Airiana didn’t think about licking his abs when he exposed himself shirtless.)

It’s the tone of his voice that stops hers. Makes her stare at him in question, overwhelmed by the storm of emotions stirring inside of her. Elena? Was Elena with her? What was Airiana doing before she got here? Where did she go?

"I I Elena?” She repeats, looking at him with wide curious wide brown eyes. "Um, um, I okay, okay, Elena, I’ll call Elena.” Airiana nods, clumsy fingers hastily fishing into her jeans pockets to pull out her phone.

Her fingertips slide quickly over the home screen, a fluorescent light illuminating the panic stricken features of her face, the lock screen sliding, but nothing happening. What was her password? What was her god forsaken password? She put this four letter code in every god damn day how could she forget her password?

"Logan, I I can’t remember my password, I … can’t remember it!” Airiana laments, phone shaking in her quivering hands, fingertips frozen in place. "Why can’t I remember it? I can’t remember… I can’t remember my password! Logan, I can’t remember my fuckin’ password!" She cries, sniffling and crying and blubbering all over the place because she’s a pathetic human who can’t even save her almost-boyfriend from certain all because she can’t remember her fucking phone password.

#p: ariana #i am dead #{ the most powerful thing on earth is the human soul on fire }

Logan takes the shirt and he bunches it around the wound, he's almost mesmerized by the amount of crimson flowing from his body. But he has to focus, so he applies pressure and looks up at her when she begins to lose it. She's panicking--but of course she is, anyone would. Anyone should, it's not normal that he's not panicking and he has to think of a way to calm her. Without thinking about it, he puts a hand to her face, not worrying about the blood, by now they're both absolutely covered in it, not like it even matters. "Hey--it's gonna be fine --okay? I'm gonna be fine. I just need you--to call Elena. You know the password, Ari, I know you do. Just breathe, alright?" His voice is soft, and a hell of a lot stronger than it should be but he's not about to complain. The calmer he is, the calmer she'll be and really that was the main goal because his life was literally in her hands right now. Unfortunately keeping his composure was growing more and more difficult because the more blood he lost, the quicker his heart beat and the faster his breaths came, which was a problem because he could barely breathe as it was. And he was quite literally drowning in his own blood. Logan leaned his head against the couch cushion and tried to breath through the blood that crept up his throat and into his mouth but the longer he sat there, the more dazed he became, it was getting harder and harder to stay level, he was tired, exhausted actually, and all he wanted to do was go to sleep despite every ounce of common sense

telling him that if he did, he wasn't going to wake back up. He let his hand slip from her face and fall to his lap as he took in another strangled inhale, eyelids fluttering closed for half a second before he forced them back open. "Ariana--" He muttered helplessly. "you--need to-- get--that--phone-- open--or--I am-- going to--die.” He stated rolling his head forward to look at her, his gaze was soft but serious and his voice lacked the strength it had a few seconds ago. How many liters had he lost now? Two and a half? Three? He supposed it didn't matter, his condition was critical and the only chance he had right now was Vampire blood--if Elena, or Damon or hell even Ric could get there fast enough. There were a lot of things he should have told her, starting with how he felt but there was no way in hell he was going to get that out now, he could barely speak, There were letters addressed to Kara, she'd find them in his things, he'd had them written for a while. And he wrote a new one ever time he'd gone on a mission, just in case. He didn't have any letters addressed to Ariana. Funny how you get so used to the idea of death that you forget to actually live.

I would have said goodbye || Savier

infernosdaughter

One week, two days, fourteen hours and twenty-two minutes.

That’s how long it’d been since that night.

She’d kept count, doesn’t really know why, or how, but she had. Airiana couldn’t help it, every moment of every day reminded her of that night. Every single god damn thing reminded Airiana of that night. When she walks into the bathroom and splashes water on her face in the morning and accidentally mistakes it for blood, she remembers that night. When her body shudders violently against the terrifying crash of a lamp shattering downstairs, she remembers. When she flinches at the sound of the doorbell, even if she knows it’s just Logan, she remembers.

That night- it’s in everything. Kol’s memory is laden in everything. Kol’s name is written on everything she owns, and no matter which way she turns it, it’s always there. Engraved with a jagged shard of glass, dripping in Elena’s blood.

She’d done everything in her power to try to forget it all. Three days spent locked away in her room with Damon’s bourbon, drowning out Kol’s laughter and Elena’s screams, still hadn’t erased all the pain and all the fear gripping to the bone.

But it almost seems like no matter how hard she tries, she can’t shake this feeling- this feeling that something’s been taken away from her, stolen inconspicuously and ripped from her soul, and she’s not sure how to fill up the empty space.

Her dignity, she thinks, her strength maybe too. All she knows is she’s lost something or someone, and she can’t figure out who.

But it’s like Elena said, she won’t live the rest of her life hiding away in fear. It’s what forces them out of bed every morning, what forces them to carry on.

Hell, it’d forced Airiana to go outside and get some fresh air, hadn’t it? Fear was reason enough for her to get the fuck up. Besides, Ric keeps saying it might be good for her to get some fresh air and she can tell Damon’s getting sick of letting the drink-until-you-can’t-see-card slide. It’s time to move on.

She needs to move on.

She’d decidedly gone out by herself earlier that day, Logan said he’d come over and Airiana needed to make a trip to the liquor store anyways. So with an extordinairly illegal fake ID in hand, and a fifty dollar bill in her pocket, she’d gotten two bottles of bourbon and a case of Corona for Logan. One of the bottles was for Damon, obviously, she owed him big time after how much she’d consumed in that week alone. Of course, one bottle would never be enough, but at the very least it was a start. And right now, that’s what she needed, it’s what they all needed.

A fresh start.

(But fresh starts didn’t include punching original vampires in the face, and recieving concussions and broken ribs in return. And fresh starts didn’t include almost-boyfriends going after original vampires for some kind of revenge, and fresh starts certainly didn’t include finding almost-boyfriends, now almost-dead-boyfriends, sitting in a pool of their own blood on your living room floor with a shank plunged in between their lungs. That’s not how fresh starts worked. That’s not even remotely close.)

Balancing a paper bag in one hand, and her keys gritted between her teeth, Airiana jiggled the knob on the dark polished front door and twisted the handle, pushing open the door with her back towards the entrance, and slipping the bag down onto the side table, throwing her keys along side it.

Elena had mentioned something about left over pizza in the fridge for dinner or it could have been a frozen pizza in the freezer. Didn’t matter, there was pizza around here somewhere, there had to be more than just literal bloody mary’s around here.

Come to think of it, didn’t Ric ask her to stop by the blood bank and pick some up? B positive or B negative? Damn she really should get in the habit of writing these things down.

Anywho, she’s not a vampire. Why should she have to go get the blood anyways? Just because she doesn’t have a job or go to school, doesn’t mean she was supposed to be everyone’s arrand runner…

She reallly should get a job. The Denny’s on the highway had signs, she could apply there, or the laundromat across the way, or better yet the Grill. The Grill always had spots open, what with their ever fleeting employees. They should really think about providing life insurance as part of the deal. Airiana could definitely pass as another human serving up cheap burgers and

Blood.

Lots of blood. Lots and lots of blood. Shattered glass, and splintered wood

And Logan.

For several moments, all she can do is stare. Stare at the scruffy haired man slumped up against the couch, arms hanging limply at his sides, eyelids fighting to stay open. And there’s blood so much blood. More blood than she’s ever seen before. More blood than when Kol bit into Is that blood on the carpet? No focus.

Logan.

"Oh my god." The brunette mumbles under her breath as she rushes over to Logan’s side.

"Logan … Logan, what happened? Logan Logan!” Airiana sputters, voice raising gradually as she speaks. Her hands come up instinctively to his face, rubbing circles into his cheeks as she fights back the tears already pooling in her eyes.

"Logan what happened? Logan, answer me. Logan, say something! Logan what happened! Who did this?!" The questions roll over each another in a jumbled mess. Airiana’s composure almost non-existent as she pushes herself into a frenzy.

She’s panicking, oh fuck is she panicking.

There’s tears beginning to spill out of her wide brown eyes and her hands are shaking uncontrollably as she looks over his body, lost within the sea of blood.

She sees it, a little sparkling transparent shard, glistening with a dark crimson hue, jutting out from his side. She drops her hands from his face, moving them quickly over to the wound in his side but she stops herself before she does anything stupid. If she removes it she’ll only make it worse, the hole that’s been made won’t have anything to plug it up and she can’t do anything but leave it there.

F u c k .

She shakes her head silently from side to side as she looks over the wound, worry and sadness dripping down her cheeks in the form of tears.

There’s nothing you can do. He’s dying.

The human lets out a choked sob, a breath she hadn’t known she was holding in even if only for the short time she’d been by his side. Didn’t make much of a difference how long she’d been there or not, it’s not like he had all the time in the world to watch her pretend to be strong and unaffected by his death.

Airiana reaches over to cup his face, hands shaking as she does so, a meager attempt at some form of consolation to her dying friend, because they never got the chance to make it anything more.

"Logan, you’re gonna be alright, okay?" She laments. "You’re gonna be okay, you’re gonna be okay."

#idk #{ the most powerful thing on earth is the human soul on fire }#p: ariana

Hes not sure if he's relieved or angry that Ariana's the one that finds him. He's sure it was Kol's intention but he shoves the thought away quickly. He's not about to spend his last final minutes thinking about that piece of shit. So instead he lets his blue eyes wander up to her face and he forces out a weak smile, wincing ever so slightly as her hands hover towards the injury. Don't, he's ready to say but she knows better, how could she not? When your friends are constantly dying things like 'apply pressure' and 'don't pull out the knife because if you do they'll bleed out ten times faster' tend to stick with you. They become second nature. And it's a shame because pretty girls with big brown eyes and long brown hair and names like Airiana should know how to text with their eyes closed not change bandages or to fucking apply pressure when your friend is bleeding out in your living room. "You should see-- the other--guy--in this case being--a homicidal-- psychotic Original Vampire. " The words come out choked and choppy. He assumes he's come to that point in blood loss where his brain feels like its been stuffed with cotton and his heart is beating about a hundred and forty beats per minute and it's not because she's touching him--or even that he's scared, it's just because his body is trying not to die. His free hand finds one of hers and he pulls it down to his chest. "Shh, shh, Ariana, it's not all mine."

It's not quite a lie. His left hand is covered in Kol's blood, not his own, true, however, he says it in a way that makes it sound as if he's not as in a bad a condition as he is. He's trying to calm her down. Which is pointless because if--once he dies, she's going to be a mess anyhow, but he knows from experience that reassurance in a time of crisis can be your best friend. "I need you--to calm down. I'm gonna be fine, okay? Is--Elena with you?" He asks, beginning to pull at the collar of his shirt, bloodied fingers looping around the fabric and tugging...using whatever strength he has left to try and rip it off, at least he can use it to hold it to the wound. He's almost too weak though, supernatural strength included, he's lost a lot of fucking blood. Somehow he manages, and he hopes that it's enough to convince her he's not as bad as he looks, even if he is. She's not stupid. despite all the jabs that Damon makes at her--even Damon knows she's not. "You need to call-- Elena--now." he tells her, voice as steady as he can manage, which is honestly a lot more than he expected. It almost sounds normal.

I would have said goodbye || Savier

Logan has to focus an incredible amount of energy on breathing and it's kind of ironic how it's supposed to be such a simple task one you don't even think about on a daily basis, it's just natural but at the current moment, it takes every ounce of strength in his body to keep it up. Every inhale rubs his flesh against the razor sharp edges of the glass, and every exhale does the same. He watches Kol as he holds his ribs, not even daring to take the glass out, it just rests between his index and middle finger like it it does his ribs. Fuck, hes swallowing his own blood, fighting to try and breathe in oxygen and not the thick red liquid that keeps rising at the back of his throat. As the chain is ripped from his neck he can't help but furrow his brows. Why his dog tags? A prize of a sort? No, those are meant for Kara, Kara is supposed to get those, and Kamryn is supposed to get Ryan's when he sees her again, well, when he was going to see her again. It's past tense, now. He doesn't say anything as Kol walks away, he's not really sure he can. Logan's not exactly the type for witty one liners, not usually. So instead he just collapses against the base of the couch as blood seeps from his wound and floods the floor. He glanced down, what was that a liter already? Not to mention what he was spitting up. Naturally, Logan begins to do the math in his head, the average human body has five to eight liters of blood, he's not exactly small so he'll say he probably has at least six. He's not at a fatal level yet. If someone walked through that door right now he'd walk away from this. But no one does. And he watches another half a liter leaves his body, and it's funny it actually almost perfectly represents an hour glass. With every ounce that leaves his body, he grows that much closer to death. By now his blood pressure has dropped significantly, his heart is starting to weaken, and he can actually feel it beginning to struggle every pump will soon be just as difficult as every breath. Logan rests against the couch. They say that your life flashes before your eyes and he really hopes that that's not the case because he'd rather be thinking of his sister, and his father--and that stupid grin that Ariana gets on her face when she's drunk and insistent that her tolerance is far higher than it really is. He thinks about the fact that he's actually not going to see that ever again and how it really fucking sucks. He starts to think about how his sister is going to lose yet another person, and how he kind of hates himself for abandoning her. 'This wasn't supposed to happen.' she'd say, 'You came home, and you were supposed to be safe.' problem is, people die all the time, they don't have to have a gun in their hands to make it any more possible. Look at their dad. He died in a car accident. A vehicle. Something you use every day of your life. Death is everywhere. You can't escape it. The hunter glances down at the pool of blood and winces. Yea he's got maybe another two liters to go before he's unconscious. And if he does pass out, at this point if he does, he wont wake up.

#*whispers* if I had known there was a goodbye to have been said #thats the end of the title #enjoy #p: ariana #{ the most powerful thing on earth is the human soul on fire }

keep the smile from my face; Kol & Logan

he was starting to wonder if the boy would ever fight,

he tenses but barely moves as Kol approaches him, there is no flicker in his eyes, no acknowledgement of danger, just still and c a l m. and when you’re predator it’s infuriating.

Logan is almost as fast as a vampire, that’s where experience shows, his girlfriend wasn’t so quick, wasn’t so intelligent when it came to weaknesses and strengths, but this hunter was no amateur. one of the five but not even the little Gilbert was like this man. he’s met them previously, obviously when he was a little less skilled in controlling his hunger, but Nik had slaughtered them all before they could figure him out, before they took down the family. briefly, his mind flits to a wondering thought of where the other three hunters where. but it’s that distraction that prevents him from seeing what came next.

the hunter’s foot collides with Kol’s bone, his leg falling from beneath him, there’s a ripping sound, and he’s all too familiar with it. the vampire hisses, crouching slightly. Elena’s blood allowed him to heal quickly, but it didn’t take away pain. there hadn’t in fact been many times in his life that Kol dealt with pain, his brothers and even sister were practically immune to the pain of broken bones and vervain and stab wounds. it was taking the younger brother a little while longer than the rest. but that said more about how skilled this particular Original was at protecting himself, or running.

the man is already on the move, darting across the room and shattering a chair s m a r t s. that’s what kept you a live in fight against hunter and vampire. Kol focuses on the bones, snapping them back into place with a squinted expression, but anger burns through his vein… and he refuses to be outwitted again. a growl rumbles in his throat and his hand clenches around the glass in his hand.

before Logan has looked up to see the Original’s whereabouts, weapon in hand, Kol is in front of him. looking down at him with burning eyes. he rises and he takes his opportunity, just how the boy had done to him. and that’s when he snaps his arm forward, glass pushing through the skin of the boy’s chest cavity. there’s the delicious sound of ripping skin and the Original smiles coldly as the blood spills over his fingers. however, his pleasure is cut short he only just pierces the lung as there’s a pain in his own stomach. he growls again, agony rippling through him. Kol dares to glance down at the man’s hand, the tattooed arm is visible, but only up to his stomach, a small part of the chair leg at the end. Kol snarls.

#oopsies #p: kol #i had way too much fun writing this #{ you're the type of man they would have ordered me to kill }

He saw it coming. Maybe not exactly like this, with a shard of glass of all things--maybe a hand in his chest cavity--but either way, maybe part of him knew he was dead the second he grabbed that butter knife in the grill. His only regret is that he wished it had been a b i g g e r knife. He's not immune to pain. Never has been, never would be, and he would never pretend to be. It fucking hurts. Burns. The way his flesh gives way around the shard, the way it slices between his ribs and buries it'self into his lung, the force of a mad man behind it's drive. Logan lets out a sharp breath, and plunges his own weapon straight into Kol's stomach, it's hardly a half a second delay. And it's the lack of hesitance that saves his life. Not that he knows that at the current moment. Logan's jaw clenches and he can feel thick, warm liquid creep up the wrong direction in his throat just as Kol's blood spills over his knuckles. It tastes like metal--copper, and every breath becomes an all out war. Oxygen fights to make it's way in and out but the blood just pours through, drowning him as it collapses in on itself. He should panic. He should be scared--he should want to fight if not Kol, at least for his life. If not for him, for Kara. Nah, he's too s e l f i s h. He slides off the Original and onto the floor, it's not graceful or calculated like all his previous movements, it's a glimmer of that boy he used to be. Before all darkness crept in, and the stories of all the monsters under his bead were part of who he was. before he snapped his first neck, or pulled his first trigger. He shows for half a second as Logan's right hand, makes his way to the left side of his rib cage and he pulls in a weezing breath, like he's sucking air out of a straw. He doesn't dare pull it out, that would just let the blood flow faster. No, he just applies pressure, wincing as he does so because it fucking burns. It feels like a scorched rod, meant for poking at fires in enclosed spaces has been shoved between his ribs and he's drowning in his own goddamn blood as it flows into his mouth, staining his tongue, gums and teeth, seeping from thinly pressed lips. Yet somehow Logan manages a tight smile, a gurgled laugh "You didn't watch the carpet." he manages through all the blood it's really just a silent f u c k you.

keep the smile from my face; Kol & Logan

Kol darts forward, he’s not getting a reaction from the hunter any time soon,

but then it dawns on him, that perhaps he’s playing the same game, provoking him a little too calm for someone who could die in a matter of seconds. he stops a few steps away from the man, hovering with narrowed eyes, searching for any weapon, not that any could truly bring harm to him.

something catches his eye, a glimmer caught by light hanging around his neck, Ryan Murphy. he was pretty sure the hunter’s name was Logan… perhaps someone close to him? such a shame, to lose something so precious. Kol’s lips twitch.

his hand shoves into his pocket, the other stays firmly wrapped around the shard of glass, he lifts it, assessing it to see if it would be long enough to puncture some vital organ, because right now Kol would take a thousand years of torture, of suicide temptation, if he knew that he could cause this hunter to bleed out and be found by the ones who loved him.

”you caught me.”

he raises both hands, palm up. ”I admit, I like making a mess.”

Kol moves again, circling the hunter, waiting for him to try something, anything, so that he could watch the hopes for escaping dash into pieces, watch hope and life fade from his eyes as he pierced through the skin.

but he’s fed up of waiting and he’s darting forward again, so fight for your pathetic life, just like Elena did.

#p:kol #{ you're the type of man they would have ordered me to kill }#rUDE

Logan isn't one to panic. Never really had been, probably never would, be. And he's not so arrogant as to say that it's because he's tough and just that manly. There just comes a point where your life is on the line so many times, that the idea of your own death becomes numbing. And maybe it's not the

same for everyone--actually he knows it's not--but it's how he's affected. Logan has never been one to focus on his own survival, maybe that's just what's been ingrained into his mind, or maybe that's the way he's always been. Either way he's just glad that his will has been set up for Kara since he was seventeen.

Logan watches Kol's every move, the slight hesitation of his hand in his pocket, the hunter is far too attentive to detail not to notice something like that. And as the vampire begins to circle him, his muscles tense, there's a brief second where Logan can feel the hunter clawing it's way to the surface, it's a battle of control between the killer and the hunter and the shredded piece of the boy Logan used to be. But the boy always loses and the two left standing merge together.

His movements are a complete blur, and as Kol circles around to Logan's left shoulder, his body twists in one synchronized motion, the action is quick and sharp as the blonde lifts his right leg and delivers a crippling blow to Kol's right knee

There's an ear shattering snap as tendons rip and bone breaks, bending his joint at a very unnatural angle. It's not enough to do anything other than slow him down, but that' all he's really going for. Logan doesn't waste even half a second before he's cleared the living room and flipped one of the wooden chairs up off the ground, he slams the furniture onto the floor, supernatural strength causing the structure to give way and collapse in on itself, leaving a broken piece of the arm rest gripped in his left fist.

It wont kill him--but there was no way Logan was just going to lie down and die.

keep the smile from my face; Kol & Logan

Kol shrugs, the smirk dancing on his lips, revealing amusement that seemed to come from the slightest bit of anger or discomfort from Elena and her friends.

”yes, who are you, indeed?”

at the mention of the Salvatore, Kol’s head drops, a loud chuckle escaping his lips as his free hand pushes into his pocket. ”do you believe I’m foolish enough to fear a vampire that barely comes close to my age?”

but of course, the Original knew that it did not matter, because age meant nothing. strategy was important, and that’s why Kol had thought out his moves clearly. he knew that some harm would be brought to him in the process but the overall outcome would be more satisfying than any of it.

he notices the glance around the room, the search for a weapon couldn’t be subtle, really. he breathes out, a sigh as the hunter makes a comment, yet again, about the brother. where all the people inhabiting in this building obsessed with the two Salvatore’s. he rolls his eyes, his hands clenching around the glass. there’s a quiet creak, the glass threatening to shatter under the pressure.

again he shrugs, a tilt of his head.

”practically.” he teases.

he watches the jaw clench and it only brings more amusement to his own features. he doesn’t care much for what the consequences are… a tooth for a tooth.

Kol breathes out, noticing the man’s discomfort at the mention of the human girl and he knows that she was always the perfect leverage, perhaps for everyone.

”quite witty, aren’t you? it’s Logan isn’t it?”

his hand clenches tighter, shattering the crystal across the carpet as Kol gives a quick and quiet growl.

”I’ll be sure to have it cleaned.”

he mutters, releasing the shards, all except one.

#this is so bad #so short #and so bad #im sorry #c: kol #{ you're the type of man they would have ordered me to kill }

He watches as the glass breaks, he's hit a nerve. Good. If he comes at him all impulsive lashes and angry growls he'll be easier to predict, truthfully.

"When I want to be.”

He's not stalling, he's poking, prodding, waiting for him to go off. honestly he's not sure how people like Kol get a second chance at life and people like Ryan turn over in their grave. But what's that saying? Only the good die young. As the glass breaks he knows Kol is certainly no exception to this rule, clearly. Even living a thousand year life span, he still managed to evade death. Pity.

Not like anyone would have missed him.

"Somehow I doubt that"

keep the smile from my face; Kol & Logan

he sighs, eyebrows lifting and falling quickly before he turns on his heel,

heading back to top up his drink.

”ah, now, do you think I care much about what you think of me? incredibly less so, if you are dead.”

it’s another boyish grin, he’s making a habit of gaining pleasure from poor insults. Kol isn’t foolish enough to believe the hunter is scared, perhaps their is no regard for his own life, and Kol’s leverage on everybody in this household is absent. he frowns, filling the glass with amber liquid.

”you’re growing impatient.”

it’s just a guess, he’s given no incline to feeling anything in his arrival, but he’s experienced his games long enough to know when somebody is waiting. and what a boring thing that is.

”where would you suggest I begin?”

he leans against the desk, eyes narrowed and lips pursed as his fingers drum lightly on the glass, daylight ring interrupting his own thoughtful silence. he tilts his head back to the hunter, eyebrows raised in question.

”eye for an eye, mate.”

it’s only fair.

”now, I can heal. but you. you and Airiana cannot. I suppose that’s why I prefer you two.”

#p: kol #i just tagged thsi with logans name omfg #{ you're the type of man they would have ordered me to kill }

He's not impatient--exactly. But it's hard to stay completely calm when you're standing in front of someone who wants to kill you.

Scared or not, fight or flight kicks in.

"Oh it's not an opinion, it's a fact. Any idiot with a set of eyes could see you have this pathetic need for power. Psychologically I'm sure it goes back to your childhood, doesn't excuse you for being a psychotic piece of shit, but who the hell am I to judge?"

He states with a shrug of his shoulders, subtly glancing around the room, the bastard was truly lucky that Damon wasn't here. He'd been itching to tear Kol apart for days, Original or not that kind of anger holds its own weight. Ironically Logan can't help but be grateful for the fact that the Salvatore has so many wooden furnishings. If he can snap the leg or arm of any of the chairs he could use them. He wonders how

well an Original would hold up with a stake through the dome. Probably won't be very pleasant.

"Well I suggest we avoid the rug."

he nods, sliding his hands in his pockets, tone casual, the one time he doesn't have his pocket knife on him.

"Damon would really kill you if we got blood there."

The hunter almost snorts at his comment, an eye for an eye. Logan shook his head, smirk implying that he was genuinely amused even though he was very far from it.

"If that were the case you would have just dealt with the fact that the boy who's arms you tried to cut off and his sister killed you. Don't bullshit me. Just admit it, you practically get off on this shit ."

He replies with the slight cock of his head, though he appears relaxed, every muscle in his body is rigid. Prepared to lash out at any sign of the Vampires advance. Though his blue eyes are on his face, hes watching his every move. Sometimes Logan's paranoia is a blessing. Shockingly. Who knew PTSD would come in handy in a town full of Vampires.

At the mention of Ariana his jaw clenches slightly and he has to remind himself that she's not here. He's also relieved Kol doesn't know who Kara is--but then again if he tried that, well his fuckin' funeral. Ariana was one thing, but his baby sister? You'd have to really have a death wish, there would be nothing on the planet that could stop him from ripping his goddamn intestines out.

"Are you just gonna talk me to death or what?”

keep the smile from my face; Kol & Logan

his eyes are pinned to the floor, no evidence on his shoes from a night not long ago he’d worn them. there’s no scuffs or dirt or bloodstains, the only reminder, the only true reminder of that night was the rapid pace Kol’s blood seemed to heal at and a girl with fire that was ever so persistent in revenge.

his eyes are finally dragged up as the crease in the door widens. a grin on his face as he meets the eyes of an angry hunter. his tattoo is visible beneath the shirt, should he be threatened? at this point Kol tries to finds it hard to see sense, he has come here with the intention to kill, hasn’t he? the Original doesn’t care much for a hunter’s curse, he could bear it. he could.

”I believe last time, we didn’t get much chance to introduce ourselves.”

he pushes past the hunter, into the boarding house were a fire crackles under the mantle piece. he looks arrowed, eyes narrowed and vaguely aware of the man behind him. he spins on his heel, unlinking his fingers.

”how are you girlfriend’s ribs? all healed up nicely, I do hope.”

sarcasm drips from his words as he moves around the room, coming to a stop in front of the collection of bourbon lined up in crystal bottles on a desktop. he lifts a glass and a bottle and fills it half way.

”care for one?” he doesn’t wait for an answer, downing the drink, he keeps his grip firmly on the cool glass between his fingers.

”Kol Mikaelson.” he grins, holding a hand out.

#idk what this is tbh #c: kol #{ you're the type of man they would have ordered me to kill }

Blue eyes settle on the Vampire, heart beat never picking up up speed past it's usual pace.

He's not scared--he's angry more than anything, he watches as the Original steps past the threshold and he cant help but be glad Ariana's not here. He's not worried about himself, not in the slightest and it's not because he has the hunters curse on his side or that he's even arrogant enough to think he can take on Kol by himself he's just not scared.

He can see it in his eyes, he wants to kill him, it's not hard for a killer to spot another killer. Kol is hardly subtle about it, but maybe if you're oblivious, it could slip by undetected. But Logan's But instead of leaving—of doing what he knows he should do, not oblivious, if anything he pays too much attention. The hunter crosses his arms across his chest, posture rigid because he knows he's either going to die or by some miracle he'll make it out alive--except the latter isn't very promising. He's used up all his get out of jail free cards.

He's a human with a tattoo that gives him more strength and faster reflexes--but it's probably not enough to take on a psychotic Original Vampire. Maybe if he had a white oak stake, he'd be able to turn it around, but maybe's and probably's don't help when the definite is standing right in front of you. He glances at Kol's hand, he knows how he is, and as much as he'd love to rip his vocal chords out, he just stands still.

s t a r i n g

w a i t i n g

Kol likes to play with his food and then throw it away. He's twisted like that, and in a sense Logan might even feel bad for the poor bastard. lf he'd lived that long and knew he was that sick--he'd of wanted to find and end to his story a long time ago.

"You can kill me --but it wont make you any less pathetic."

keep the smile from my face; Kol & Logan

he’d always been one to blow things out of proportion, a dramatic child, distant teenager, unfair man.

turning had probably been the worst thing to do to Kol Mikaelson. but it happened, and now here he was, roaming the earth a thousand years later carrying a grudge that was a thousand years old. he’s sure that he’d be diagnosed insane if it were down to hospitals and doctors and things of that nature. but he it is not, and he is on the loose, back from the dead, dangerous and vengeful.

he doesn’t feel it anymore, perhaps the vampire blood had healed him too quickly to fuel his anger, to fuel the revenge he had to succeed. but he remembers. the cool metal pushing through his rib cage, a small amount of pain from the intrusion coursing through his body, then the puncture of his lung, the feel as it filled with blood and suffocated him, shortening his breath and finally as it ripped through the tissue of his heart but he was a vampire, an immortal. he healed.

his attacker, though, is something mostly human. he would not heal. and perhaps that’s why Kol moves so gracefully, disturbing thoughts swimming around his mind as he glides down the pavement leading up to the Salvatore boarding house. there is no one inside, no one except his target. this is the plan. and it’ll work.

perhaps he’s become accustomed to the sound of a vampire, the sound of their feet barely touching the floor as they move, was that a hunter’s perk? or knowledge from experience? perhaps both. but Kol still takes his chance, a polite and short knock on the wooden door.

#yolo #c: kol #{ you're the type of man they would have ordered me to kill }

Somehow he finds himself at the boarding house--again. at this point hes not sure who he's trying to even fool more.

himself or her? Or everyone around them? If it's the last one. he absolutely sucks at it. Kara knows--Elena knows, Damon knows... hell the only people that don't know is the two of them. Well.. he knows but, he doesn't let himself entertain the thought.. She deserves more than a washed up soldier with PTSD and a whole lot of baggage. He should leave, he should just pack Kara up

and head back to California before something really irreversible happens, before fuck up on top of fuck up piles up and he can't crawl his way out from under the weight of all the shit he's done wrong. But instead of leaving--of doing what he knows he should do, he lets out a sigh and runs a hand through his disheveled blonde hair padding down the hallway to answer the door. A man with Vampires for enemies should be smart enough not to stay in a house open for anyone of them to just walk in.

he's smarter than that. Usually. But he supposes his guard is down, which is a fucking first. He can't remember the last time that happened. And it would figure the one time he relaxes--it nearly gets him killed. Logan finds his hand on the cool metal of the heavy wooden doors knob, twisting and turning until he comes face to face with Kol. He's not scared--he should be, but he's not.

Logan hasn't really had any sense of self worth in quite some time. When you've seen enough death--start believing you don't deserve to live while your friends lie in the ground and their sisters turn to you for comfort--you stop fearing it.

"What." it's not a question it's a demand.

rebekahmkaelsons

"Well, aren’t you a new face?"

#ignore the fact taht hes shirtless #or not #his hunters mark is visible though so yeh #c: rebekah

Logan glanced up, blue eyes settling on an unfamiliar face "Not that new." he replied "Can I help you?" Logan added, tone questioning.

"mmmh--what?"

#genuinely dont know #hes either at the boarding house or his own house #up to you #starterta

+starter for logan

” just friends don’t look at each other like that," she says because she’s kara and he’s logan and they wouldn’t be them if she let him get off that easy.

” fine. you’re lucky i’m in a generous mood. go ahead, keep your dirty little fantasies to yourself—i don’t want to hear about them, anyway. “

hands up in mock surrender, a melodramatic pacifist expression claiming her lips. it doesn’t really work, not now that she’s seventeen and more enthused by the idea of conquering the world than saving it, but she’s anything but a quitter.

” good to know the face still works, though. " she adds smugly, a mischievous grin forming across pink lips.

#ignore text #tbh idk what this is #c: kara #{ it was us against the world the day you were born }

"You need a hobby, or I don't know, psychiatric help maybe, but definitely a hobby." he replied with a chuckle as he smoothly glided around the topic. He still wasn't discussing this with her--hell he didn't even discuss it with himself.

+starter for logan

” as long as i am still talking, we are having this conversation—come on ! you know you can’t resist this face. “

puppy dog eyes had been working for her ever since she was ten and wanted another bar of chocolate. unfortunately, she wasn’t so sure that’d work for her now.

“ sure, logan, whatever you say—-”

#gdi kara #c: kara #{ it was us against the world the day you were born }

"Seriously, we're just friends." he replied, running a hand down his face and around to the back of his neck, shifting awkwardly. "No you don't get to do that, stop." he replied pointing a finger at her and turning away, smirking.

+starter for logan

” don’t play dumb. you know what i’m talking about—the little surprise visitor earlier who kept trying to hide how she was checking you out. “

it was cute, his obliviousness. probably one of the very real reasons why he was one of the good ones. she could admire that, in a man.

in her brother, however, it was inconvenient.

" god, you’re so oblivious ! airiana. your little friend. “

#hes like uhmmmmmm yea no #c: kara #{ it was us against the world the day you were born }

He opened his mouth to say something but stopped, not even sure what to say to her. At all. He lifted a hand and pinched his brow, letting out an airy laugh "We are not having this conversation. But just to clarify--not my girlfriend."

+starter for logan

” all this talk about soul searching and finding yourself and not once ! did you mention that you found yourself a girlfriend —- i’m hurt. “

okay, so ’soul searching’ and ‘finding themselves’ never really made it into routine conversation, but she had to make her point somehow. melodrama was as good a way as any. she grins, arms crossed.

expression expectant. “ welllll —- ? spill. “

it was a little sister’s job, after all.

#hes like huh??#c: kara #logan for being so smart youre really dumb

Logan's brows furrowed in genuine confusion and he blinked at his sister once, twice, a third time-- "what?" he asked, trying to follow where she was going with this.

"It was going to happen sooner or later."

connor’s death is news to her, and she doesn’t feel much of anything either way— connor was an asshole, and he was going to end up sooner than later; if anything he was probably lucky logan hadn’t been the one to do it. his next words do come as a slight surprise, and even more she’s surprised by the slight relief she gets from them. so. there was a hunter—a real reason for him to stay.

” So, what’s his story? Connor try to pull him in, too? “