Warning: Katherine/Elena: Lesbian . . . incestuous . . . dopplegänger . . . narcissistic mindscrew.
Sand in the Gears
When you live forever, you have to find something to spice life up.
On the first night, Elena discovers a red, fresh rose resting on her nightstand; the following day, she thanks Stefan for his sweetness. He says, "Sure, Elena."
(Despite the fact that he has no idea what she's thanking him for.)
How poetic.
On the second night, Elena discovers a bloody, fresh, human heart on her pillows and blood strewn across her sheets; she confronts and curses Damon as an unrepentant monster. He just shrugs. Same old insults, different time period.
Elena's d'autres admires her from a respectable distance. Never in anywhere but Shakespeare works had Katherine known of a seducer of the feminine persuasion pursuing so aggressively a coy object of affection—the Venus to the Adonis. With a twist of course, like sprinkling lemon juice on a delicacy.
"You are," Katherine says. "without a doubt, the most beautiful, tasty treat I've ever hoped to encounter. How exquisite." Her tongue flicks over her upper lip as she imagines the familiar curves tainted with her favorite treat—sliding down soft, inexperienced skin.
Snarls. Objects thrown. Heated exchanges.
Katherine sighs. If only it were true that she who loves herself has no rivals.
Author's Note: O_o