Dark Side.
Chapter 36: The Descent. Part II.
"This story is a leaf that bursts out of
a branch, unfurls itself, lives for a summer,
and then dies. And it's your face striking
me like the time of an appointment I've
missed when I notice it after all this time.
I fear a catastrophe that has already occurred.
The communication always went wrong.
Like we were under a bad star. Bad?
The star was festering. Coldness around
all of my love.
[…]
How can a person walk in a shroud
all the miles of their life. But how
can they shrug it off. We were searching
for a place of refuge for our love, but instead
the road led us to the land of the dead.
[…]
The deepest rooted dream
of a tree is to walk, even just a little way.
A phobia is a ritual of not-doing. It did not
feel like a ritual but an injunction
from a distant government, one we
forgot we'd voted for. It was a nice house,
quite plain and tasteful, but it had a bad
atmosphere. I don't like the way things
have turned out, but the law is the law.
It's interesting how the poet keeps saying
that life is full of grief, grief, grief.
A gate that leads to nowhere,
a tree cut short at the limbs,
nobody inside my dream..."
—From Unexhausted Time. Emily Berry.
Damon's room is everything Elena didn't expect. It's also the room Rose wanted to stay in. She hasn't been staying here all this time, something she was careful to point out to a seemingly amused Cassandra, but it's the room she feels more at ease in. Elena didn't get it. She couldn't understand how Damon Salvatore's room, of all people, could be a place anyone would feel at ease in. Until, that is, she walked through the door.
She'd been expecting white walls and floors, black furniture, silk sheets. She'd been expecting either darkness or too much light. She'd been expecting maybe some bourbon bottles or something? More of a mess, for sure.
Stefan's room was cluttered in a nice way, mementos of a life well lived. Elena thought maybe Damon's room would be cluttered in a messy way, even if Damon himself didn't give the impression of being messy. Her brain forces forth the memory of the days after the tomb was opened. Damon's perpetual drunken state, how he looked like he was one breath away from tearing at the seams. So, maybe, he could be messy.
She's not sure exactly what she'd been expecting. She knows there should be something like a dark, almost-scary atmosphere to the room, at the very least.
As she helps a weaker Rose into the bed—the side that's closest to the door—she's struck with the realization that none of those things are true.
There is no darkness or eerie brightness. Even with the beige curtains closed, the two bedside lamps cast a warm light over the area of the room where the bed is, and the en suite bathroom lights illuminate that side of the room until the whole space is this warm, soothing yellow. There is no black furniture. Everything is wood a rich brown color. There's a closet, an old-fashioned chest by the window, a tallboy next to the fireplace—another thing she didn't expect—a TV set up on the wall, and a bed.
A large bed with an intricate frame and sheets that are most definitely not silk. As she pulls the covers up to Rose's chest, she finds the not-silk sheets soft to the touch in the best way. Her stomach does this teeny tiny flip, and she's not sure why.
Searching for a distraction from the strange sensation, Elena's eyes fall on the nightstand closest to her. It's nothing special, while still matching the rest of the furniture. Elena guesses it's an exact copy of the nightstand on the other side of the bed. What catches her attention, however, is a mountain of books, much like in Stefan's room.
Unlike in Stefan's room, this mountain is somewhat smaller. It is also the only book pile in the room. Stefan has shelves upon shelves of books. He has them in mountains around the room, atop his desk. Damon has none of this. No display of the many books he has in his possession. No, these are the books he's currently reading.
Curious, she picks up the book on the top. It's Gone with The Wind. A pretty old copy of it, judging by the cover. Elena can't help the way her eyebrows rise up her forehead.
"You've never been here before, have you?" Rose asks.
It's only when Elena glances at her that she realizes Rose has been watching her for some time, amusement turning her tired face a little brighter.
Rose is not doing great. In the past twenty minutes her energy level dropped so drastically even Elena got a little worried. It's why they're up here while Cassandra stays downstairs doing who-knows-what with Elena-doesn't-want-to-know ingredients. Bonnie's warnings ring in her ears, whispers of too-dark magic and powers with evil intent. She shakes the thoughts out of her head. The uneasiness they produce stays with her, though, even as she turns her attention back to Rose.
"No."
"Not what you expected?" Rose tilts her head towards Gone with The Wind, which she is still holding.
Elena looks down at the book in her hands. No, it isn't, but she's not liking the glint in Rose's eye and Damon Salvatore's reading choice is not something she wants to talk about.
"It's a room with a bed." She shrugs.
She plops the book down where it previously sat. She doesn't let curiosity get the best of her again. Instead of letting her eyes wander to the other items on the nightstand, she fluffs the pillows behind Rose's head. Rose flinches only just.
"Maybe I expected silk sheets." Elena teases, if anything to distract Rose from the pain.
Rose smiles at her. Elena smiles right back, trying to stop it from turning sympathetic. Rose looks worse, Cassandra doesn't think she'll last very much longer—a morbid statement Elena still can't believe the woman said with a straight face—and Elena can't do anything to help. She feels so bad for Rose. She knows she shouldn't, after all the woman kidnapped her, but she doesn't think Rose deserves this.
"I hate this." Rose pouts. Elena mustn't have been as conspicuous with her pity. "Vampires, we don't get sick. When we die, it's not drawn out."
"You're not dying." Elena assures her with another kind smile.
"Such a human thing to say." Rose muses, humming for a moment before growing serious. Her fingers pull at the sheets; her eyes find the ceiling. "I'm dying. I just wish it would happen already. The waiting is terribly nerve-wracking."
"Hey, you're not!" Elena protests, placing her hands on Rose's shoulders. "Cass will fix you. Don't worry."
"I don't think this is something Cassandra can fix, Elena." Rose sighs, meeting Elena's stare with resigned eyes.
There's no lying to her, Elena realizes. Still, she knows that the last thing you should ever lose is hope. She's not letting Rose spend her last day in sad resignation.
"You'd be surprised." Elena insists, tone of voice light. "She's very smart."
"Yeah. Thank you."
Rose smiles. Her shoulders relax. Though she goes back to staring at the ceiling, Elena is certain her mind is no longer in a dark place. She checks the sheets are tightly around Rose's torso once more, grabs one of the pillows on the other side and places it sideways next to Rose so she has something soft and cool to lean against. She looks around, searching for something else to fix, or maybe some sort of entertainment. All she finds is the small mountain of books by the bed. She has no idea where Damon keeps the TV remote.
"I'm going to go check on Cass." Elena clears her throat, tucking her hair behind her ear. "You good here?"
Rose nods, absentminded. So, Elena makes her way down to the kitchen, hating how she's so useless. She doesn't know how to help Rose. Considering how heavy a weight Dr. Grayson Gilbert's name carries around Mystic Falls—her dad was one of the best doctors in town—Elena ought to be pretty confident when it comes to medicine. The truth is her medical knowledge ends at 'alternate acetaminophen with ibuprofen every four hours without taking the maximum recommended dose of either drug.' She doesn't see how that will do Rose any good.
With that gloomy thought in mind, Elena turns the corner leading to the kitchen from the home room. It's a slightly longer way than if she just cut left after the stairs and entered the kitchen directly from the hallway, but the thought of being completely alone with Cassandra has some type of emotion laying on her chest and dragging down her torso. Like she's a child about to admit she misbehaved. It makes no sense. It still has her walking the long way round.
In the short time Rose and Elena left her alone, Cassandra has made the kitchen her own. The mere sight of her by the sink has Elena pausing. She always thought Cassandra gave off a certain vibe, not dangerous, really, but… powerful, like Damon did before she knew him. That feeling went away the better she knew Damon, especially after that trip to Georgia. It was still there, but she didn't find it intimidating to the point of fear.
No matter how close to Cassandra Elena got, no matter how many late nights the two spent over at Caroline's, how much Cassandra helped her out, that energy about her stayed. Seemed to get stronger. There's a certain aura exuding from her that always has Elena somehow tiptoeing around her. The better she knew her, the more glaring it became. Unlike with Damon, it never stopped making her intimidating. If anything, she became it even more. It's the same feeling that seeded Bonnie's mistrust. It's one Caroline has never been bothered by. Elena doesn't understand how.
So, instead of making her presence known and interrupting the phone conversation the redhead is engrossed in, Elena turns her attention to the kitchen.
The paper bags are empty, crammed into the same trashcan Cassandra brought from the living room. It sits next to the kitchen island, as noticeable as a sore thumb. On one side of the counter, there are so many flowers and small bouquets of herbs that there isn't any space left. On the other side of the sink, tiny glass vials stand one next to the other, their contents different vibrant colors. Next to the vials, a grey granite mortar, its pestle balancing precariously against its side. Besides the mortar sits a large metal bowl, the kind you'd use to mix cake batter. If there's anything inside it, Elena is too far away to see.
The whole room smells like a flower shop with a hint of antiseptic solution, like in a hospital. There's also this strange acrid undertone, strong enough that it burrows deep into Elena's nose. Elena can't find the source for the acrid scent, but when her eyes fall on the clear bowl on the breakfast bar filled with what looks like a thick black-green goo, she decides she doesn't want to.
The sudden edge to Cassandra's voice, a striking contrast from the quiet murmur it'd been since Elena arrived, has her turning her attention fully to the vampire.
"So, you can't get it?" Cassandra asks, leaning against the kitchen sink, fingers pulling at the shutter so she can peep outside.
Elena walks until she stands by the kitchen island, placing her hands on the side that acts as a breakfast bar. She makes sure to leave enough distance between herself and the goo-filled bowl that she can pretend it's not there. She takes note of the pot atop the stove, steam seeping through the slit between the lid and its rim.
In front of her, Cassandra hums in response to something. Elena doesn't say anything, curious. Maybe Cassandra is talking to Stefan. If she is, she might be willing to tell Elena something. Anything is better than Stefan's radio silence and Damon's dismissal.
"Yes, but—what if—?" Cassandra sounds annoyed at being interrupted. "I know. I know that, Dorian."
Elena's shoulders slump. She doesn't even know a Dorian.
"Right." Cassandra laughs at whatever Dorian just said.
It's light and genuine, and, when Cassandra turns around and lifts one finger up to her in the international sign for 'give me a minute', the bright smile on her face doesn't slip.
Elena frowns without meaning to.
"I aim to please… Yeah, I bet you do." Cassandra snorts an uncharacteristic snort. Somehow, she looks like she belongs in this conversation. She's relaxed, merry. She looks younger, even. This is not a Cassandra Elena has ever seen. "Okay. Bye. Love you, too."
Elena can't help rising her eyebrows at that. Thankfully, Cassandra doesn't notice. She just stares at the cellphone in her hand for a moment, before slipping it into one of the mesh pockets her leggings have on either side. When she looks up, Elena takes a breath in and braces herself for the questions. Or conversation. Maybe a little argument.
The last time she and Cassandra were alone was when Jenna got hurt. She hasn't really been able to look her in the eye after that, but the redhead hasn't even mentioned it. If anything, she's saved Elena twice since. But maybe that's because they've always had company.
Instead of taking the opportunity, Cassandra walks over to the stove, and lifts the lid on the pot. More steam escapes, twirling and twisting its way up to the ceiling, making the sweet floral smell stronger. So much stronger Elena can't comprehend how Cassandra is letting the steam rush over her face. So much stronger Elena fights the urge to gag. The stuffy, humid sensation around the kitchen intensifies.
She watches Cassandra sprinkle some brown powder over the pot, which she can now hear bubbling loudly, before adding another powder, this one bright green. In she throws some sticky substance a strange, faded ochre color. Elena watches, a mere two and a half feet away, with absolutely nothing to say. She hopes Cassandra is finding this as uncomfortable as she is.
When Cassandra dips the wooden spoon into the pot and stirs twice in a figure of 8, the scents sipping from the bubbling concoction change almost instantly. It still smells heavily of flowers, but with an odd spicy undertone Elena recognizes but can't place. Earthy, almost fragrant. Is Cassandra working on a way to help Rose, or designing her own perfume? Elena can't help but wonder.
"Rose?"
She almost jumps a foot in the air at the sound of Cassandra's voice. Tearing her eyes from the stockpot—its contents are foaming now, teetering at the edge, almost leaking—Elena finds Cassandra's inquisitive eyes on her. Her heart stutters. When Cassandra's eyebrows twitch slightly, Elena realizes it isn't that the redhead has read her mind, but that she's asking about Rose's condition. Her stomach unknots.
"In bed, per doctor's orders." Elena nods.
Her sad attempt at lightening the mood fails. The furrowing of Cassandra's mouth kills the hesitant smile pulling at her lips. Cassandra stirs whatever's in the pot again. The silence stretches.
"Who's Dorian?"
"No one," is Cassandra's quick reply.
"Oh." Elena nods again, watching as she casually turns back to the counter and grabs a handful of herbs.
She lets the silence hang for a moment. Surely Cassandra knows she's not buying that lame answer. Cassandra doesn't elaborate, however, simply grabs a chopping board and knife from the sink. Quiet, she begins cutting away at whatever plant she plucked from its bunch.
"So, you say 'I love you' to strangers?" She insists.
Cassandra pauses. She's facing the window, so Elena only gets a view of her curly hair when the redhead tilts her head upward. She can imagine the faces she might be pulling. Nettling her while she's handling a knife might not have been the best idea.
"Dorian's my friend; I've known him for centuries."
"Oh." It seems everyone she hears about lately is not human. "So, he's a… vampire friend."
"Dorian's not a vampire!" Cassandra laughs like the mere thought of this Dorian person being a vampire is ridiculous.
What else can he be? Elena frowns, yet says nothing. Her tone of voice has Elena's cheeks warming up in embarrassment. She fights the urge to hunch into herself.
The vampire continues her work, throwing the chopped-up herbs into the mortar, reaching for the flowers. She takes her time plucking four petals from a bright blue flower, slicing them into tiny slivers before sprinkling them into the brew. She places the lid on the stockpot again.
Elena watches, silent, as her irritation grows with each passing second. Her eyes fall on the colorful flowers, on the vials with mysterious liquids, on the pot brewing at high heat, steam hissing its way out. She catches the casual way Cassandra keeps adding ground herbs and petals to the large bowl on the side.
It's too much.
Bonnie—Bonnie only says a couple of strange words and feathers fly. There are no mysterious substances or smells. This is all—and they're all acting like it's normal! How—what kind of alternate reality has her life become?
"What's that?" asks Elena when she can't help but glance at the clear bowl with the green-black goo for the third time in a row.
Even then, Cassandra doesn't answer her right away. She picks one of the vials—the one with a dark orange liquid—and pours half of its contents into the large metal bowl, before mixing and grinding it all together with the pestle. Elena crosses her arms. Finally, after five seconds of utter silence, Cassandra turns around.
"What's what?"
The nonchalant tone to Cassandra's voice, like she wasn't just ignoring her, has Elena grinding her teeth. Her irritation overcomes whatever else Cassandra's ever made her feel. She looks pointedly at the glass bowl sitting on the breakfast bar. Cassandra follows Elena's eyes with her own.
"Her blood."
The two words have Elena's brain stunted. The tension in her muscles loosens and her arms uncross to fall limply on either side of her. She can't tear her eyes away from the glass bowl, from its contents. Sure, it looks like a liquid, a really thick, viscous liquid, but it's not red, or—no, that's not blood. Blood isn't black! Blood doesn't have a green undertone against light!
"That's Rose's blood?" She gapes at Cassandra, pointing at the bowl with her index finger.
Maybe Cassandra got confused, thought Elena was looking somewhere else. Though Elena can't see the syringe used to draw Rose's blood anywhere.
"In a way, yes."
That doesn't explain anything. Elena huffs, eyes going back to Rose's supposed blood. Cassandra steps over, moving the bowl from the breakfast bar into the sink. That heavy, acrid smell from earlier lessens. She fights off a shiver at that.
"So, what are you going to do?" Elena asks, keeping her eyes on Cassandra's face. The green-black goo that is 'in a way' Rose's blood won't leave her mind. She locks in her muscles to stop herself from squirming with disgust. "Are you casting a spell or brewing a potion or something?"
"Yes."
One word. That's all. Never mind the fact that Elena gave her three options to say 'yes' to. Cassandra lifts the lid on the pot, gives the bubbling liquid another swirl, and covers it again. She's so cavalier about the whole situation, Elena's blood starts to boil.
"She thinks she's dying." It comes out more defying than she means it to, but she's going with it. "So, maybe you should tell her, you know?"
Cassandra regards her for a moment that lasts a lifetime. The burn of an embarrassed blush starts to climb Elena's neck and she does everything she can to stop it, including standing up a little straighter. Cassandra may be intimidating, but Elena used to rule high school. She's stood up to an Original. She's fought vampires off with nothing but a snapped-off broomstick. She's not backing down.
"Tell her what, exactly, Elena?"
She sounds fed up! It's hidden under politeness, but Elena catches it. How dare she? Elena's the one that should be fed up here, not Cassandra. She is the one constantly giving Elena half answers, not the other way around.
"That you're trying to save her." She nearly snaps, openly glaring now.
"I'm doing no such thing."
Elena's glare dissolves. She even lets her arms drop back to her sides.
"What?"
Cassandra sighs. Her face softens into a gentle look, eyebrows scrunched up slightly. She sidesteps the kitchen island until she's standing on the same side as Elena.
"There is no saving Rose, Elena." She explains slowly, tender, like Elena doesn't have the capacity to understand but shouldn't be blamed for it. "Werewolf venom has no antidote, no cure."
"Then what is all this?"
She gestures around the kitchen, at the simmering pot on the stove, at all the flowers and herbs. What is all this? All these mysterious powders and oils. She thought she was coming up with a way to heal Rose, like she was going to do Caroline, like she supposedly wanted to with Jenna! If this isn't helping Rose, then what the hell is it?
"Hospice care."
Cassandra answers so plainly Elena's mouth drops. Cassandra breathes in, deeper than a regular intake of breath, like she's gathering more patience from within herself, but Elena is so shocked by what she just said she has no energy to get angry.
"But you healed me!" Elena manages out. "The day of the masquerade, Bonnie said you healed me."
Bonnie wouldn't lie about that. She'd sounded so surprised when she said it. Elena has no doubt in her mind that Cassandra Woodhouse saved her life that night. She hadn't been in that much physical pain since the first time she woke up after the accident. The pain waned somewhat with Bonnie's help, but, even then, it had been near blinding. The way Jeremy had been looking at her, the way Bonnie couldn't stop her tears from falling, let her know this was most likely it.
She needed a miracle, and a miracle had come. The pain disappeared completely. The blood stopped pouring out of her. Her wounds inexplicably healed. If Cassandra could perform a miracle then, why not now?
"I had John's blood, it's different." Cassandra dismisses with a shake of her head that has her curls bouncing.
"How?" Elena demands.
Her voice rises so much with that one word she might as well have shouted it. Cassandra blinks, looking genuinely taken aback by her outburst. She gives her a sidelong glance up and down like she worries for her sanity, and Elena can't keep it in anymore.
"Cassandra, stop talking to me like I'm dumb and explain." Her hand slaps against the cool marble of the kitchen island as an attempt to relieve some of her frustration. At Cassandra's impassive raised eyebrows, Elena lowers her voice and adds, "Please."
The redhead ponders on it for a moment. She's not happy about the request, Elena can see it behind the green of her eyes, but she nods, gesturing for Elena to take a seat. Elena jumps up on the stool beside her. Only after she's found a comfortable position does Cassandra speak.
"Some argue that any living creature's essence lies in their mind, others that it runs through their veins. Truthfully, it's both." She explains without a trace of the displeasure she tried to hide earlier. "I used the remnants of your biological father's soul in his blood, its power, to cast a familial spell and heal you completely. I bound Katherine's DNA to the spell to ensure it'd last longer, just in case you got hurt again. You're related by blood, belong to the same genealogical tree."
It's as detailed an explanation on magic as Elena has ever gotten from her or Bonnie. She's not sure she buys it. After all, she's not convinced people really have souls, let alone whether they hold power or not, but Cassandra is being honest. Regardless of whether what she's talking about really exists or not, she believes it to be the truth. It's still not enough for Elena to fully understand it, but it does make her feel a little better.
"Why don't you do that with Rose?"
"Many reasons."
At Elena's frustrated look, she relents.
"Mostly because a vampire's soul is… different, not as absolute. It takes a lot to manipulate it, including time, which anyone afflicted by a werewolf bite does not have." Cassandra frowns, clearing her throat. Whatever emotion crosses her face like the shadow of a cloud on an overcast day is gone too quickly for Elena to decipher. "Mostly because a death sentence is a death sentence. They tend to be impossible to heal."
It's still not enough. There's got to be more, Elena is sure of it. Rose doesn't deserve to die! They may not have met her under ideal circumstances, but she's not a bad person. Elena forgave her for kidnapping her and revealing her existence to Elijah. Rose deserves to live.
"Bonnie once told me you were a special type of witch, a…"
"Necromancer, yes." Cassandra provides when the bizarre word escapes her.
She takes another step forward, not too close that she's within Elena's personal space, but close enough that she's no longer beside the stove and can comfortably lean both arms on the cool surface of the kitchen island. Her left eyebrow rises in her forehead.
"Bonnie's been telling you a lot of things."
"But if you are that," Elena continues, ignoring the comment about Bonnie. "You can bring people back to life."
"Not the undead."
"Why not?" She demands.
"One resurrection per customer. Otherwise, rules are broken, and loopholes are found, and the balance is disturbed." Cassandra answers without missing a beat. She sounds on edge, like she's said this hundreds of times before and is tired of being asked. "Technically, as a vampire you've already died and come back once. Once it's happened, the state is permanent. That's the beauty of the vampire curse. I don't bring back vampires. I don't disturb the balance. I don't cheat."
Her tone is final. She levels her eyes with Elena's, and the stern warning there is clear to her. Truthfully, Elena couldn't care less about it. Cassandra is lying. There's no such thing as 'one resurrection per costumer', and Elena knows it. Yet here Cassandra is once more thinking her stupid and lying to her face.
"But Alaric's ring—"
"Is a cheat." Cassandra interjects with an edge to her voice that alerts Elena of the fact that maybe she's pushing her luck. "A white magic attempt at necromancy. Alaric never really dies; his soul remains tethered to his body, like a leash on a dog. That's why he comes back. Yet each time, the leash grows looser. Eventually, it won't work."
Elena's heart stutters as it drops to her feet. The rings won't work forever. Jeremy has one. She'd felt so much better knowing her little brother was protected against vampires—Alaric, too—that learning the rings won't always work have her knees wobbling. She's very thankful for having taken a seat.
Cassandra notices. Her frown eases away into a small, benign smile, and when she talks her voice is so soothing it calms Elena's stuttering heart back into a normal rhythm.
"Don't worry, it'll be a long time until that happens."
She's still worried, but knowing it won't happen the next time Alaric gets killed, or Jeremy is threatened by someone, does loosen the knot in her stomach. She relaxes, leaning her elbows on the counter much like Cassandra is doing.
"There really is nothing you can do for Rose?" She double checks.
Instead of getting angry, Cassandra perks up. Her eyes light up with veiled enthusiasm. Elena finds it wildly inappropriate, but at least she's not being yelled at.
"Yes, there is." The redhead corrects, walking once more to the stove. "I can do this."
She lifts the lid off the pot. Steam floats and swirls out of it, swirling up to the ceiling, trickling down the sides until it dissipates. Elena is once more overwhelmed by the smell of the bubbling liquid.
Since the last time Cassandra added something to it, the smell has stopped being sweet and earthy and has now become richer, with a spicy punch. It's nice, yet revolting, and Elena can't explain how something can bring out such contrasting emotions in her. Cassandra nods once and turns the switch on the stove. The bubbling diminishes almost instantly into a hissing simmer.
"What is that?" Elena asks before she can stop herself.
"That's a calming potion. It'll work kind of like sedation, keep her a little out of it." Cassandra explains, returning the lid to its rightful place.
Elena opens her mouth, but Cassandra is leaning towards the counter behind her before the words can leave her.
"This is a healing paste." Cassandra grasps the metallic bowl with both hands, placing it swiftly in front of Elena.
It's a paste, all right. Forest green in color, with specks of yellow and blue. After a few seconds, Elena realizes the blues and yellows are mushed-up flower petals. Some sort of oil gives the paste a shimmery finish, like when the organic peanut butter Aunt Jenna likes begins to set. It looks disgusting, yet smells delicious enough for Elena to wonder what it'd taste like. She even leans over the bowl without meaning to. Her hand twitches, but she stops herself from reaching in and scooping some of it up on her finger.
"It's not as effective as a salve or a potion, but I'm pressed for time." Cassandra adds. She's struggling to hold back a smile; Elena catches it as she looks up. "It also has antibiotic and antiseptic qualities, which the other two do not."
"And which Rose needs." Elena exhales, impressed.
Elena peers down at the paste. This time with sobered curiosity and not the insane urge to stuff her face with it. Can this mush of herbs, flowers, and oil, this mush that looks in texture like someone mixed peanut butter with marmite, really heal wounds? Not just heal, but kill infection?
"Will it work?"
It's the wrong thing to ask. The delight vanishes from Cassandra's face. Her lips press into a thin line, and the rest of her features smoothen into an expression that's both unreadable and dangerous. She's been pushing all day, yet, somehow, that's the question that lands Elena in hot water.
"I don't think you're dumb." It's the last thing Elena expected. Cassandra continues before she can respond, "I explained all that because it concerns you and those you love; it's only fair you understand it."
"Okay."
Elena nods. Her tone betrays her uncertainty. Something about the way Cassandra says the words suggests there's a 'but' coming, and she has a feeling she won't like it.
"I only explain myself to my friends. You have made it very clear that we are not friends."
The steely glint to Cassandra's eyes, the sharp tone to her voice leave no room for argument. Elena is speechless, staring at her with her heart beating so fast she can feel it on her fingertips. She can't think of what to say, how to refute that statement.
"I've been biting my tongue because being against you in this town is forbidden," Cassandra continues, unblinking, like she's been thinking about this for a while. Maybe she has. "But I won't have you undermining me and demanding explanations."
"Cass, I—"
She sighs. Cassandra said she had made it clear they weren't friends. Elena never wanted her to feel like that. She thought she had it under control, how she sometimes finds the woman before her so intimidating and overpowering she doesn't know how to act, how she's sometimes jealous of her—though if Caroline hadn't mentioned it once in passing, Elena herself would never have realized that—how she sometimes still struggles to accept the world is not what she believed it was all her life. Though Cassandra's attitude lately has been a little more… reserved, Elena still likes her, still thinks of her as a friend.
She doesn't get to say that, because Cassandra shushes her, sharply cutting off Elena's attempt at an explanation.
"Cass!" She protests, exasperated.
She has a right to explain herself. Cassandra can't just cut her off because she isn't interested in Elena's side of the story. The redhead isn't paying attention to her, though. She straightens, tense, eyes pinned to somewhere on the ceiling.
"Hell," Cassandra curses under her breath, moving with such speed Elena's eyes don't catch it.
One second, she's there. The next, she isn't.
Elena is left alone in the kitchen, her arms still pressed to the counter. For half a breath, she doesn't understand why Cassandra would simply run away from this conversation, and with such urgency. For half a breath, she doesn't understand why it has her heart beating harder, nervous energy thrumming in her veins, until it dawns on her.
Rose.
A/N: This was a little quicker than I thought it would be! I'm having trouble finishing next chapter, so I thought maybe if I read over this one and posted it, I'd get a little inspo. Fingers crossed.
Thanks so much to everyone who's favorited and followed since last chapter, and reviewed, too. Your continued support of this story, even with such sporadic updates, means a lot to me.
Now onto reviews:
PuckleberryGeek89: I am so glad you like the story! Yeah there's still a couple of obstacles before they can be together, but they'll be happy very soon! Hope you like this chapter.
Guest: It will likely stay DamonxCass, though we might get a couple of moments when it's ambiguous. Don't worry, you'll see them happy together soon. Well, soon-ish. I'm glad you liked last chapter, enjoy this one!
AB0918: Thanks so much for your review! I get really excited when people get Cass and respect/enjoy her journey. We are so close to them overcoming their obstacles! I always saw the events in The Descent chapters as the last step before all the cards were on the table for them, so definitely get ready for Daddy Issues and beyond. Hope you like this chapter!
Nerdalertwarning: I like reviews a lot, so I always try to answer them as much as I can. I think the reason why she's struggling so much with the Damon situation is because she's very used to being the one on top, being the one followed by guys and having him go back and forth with her really confuses her and makes it hurt more. She won't be taking it much longer, in fact, Damon's gonna have to do a lot of grovelling because she is getting sick of it. I do love Klaus and I do love the relationship Klaus and Cass had in the past, so I'm also secretly torn and I think it's gonna be a matter of seeing how the characters interact together once I begin to rewrite Season 3 and 4. I don't mind that you have all these thoughts lol we've all got opinions and you must really like the story to have so many thoughts and theories! Thanks so much and I hope you like this chapter. Stay safe!
SomebodyWhoCares: tell me about it ugh
StrangelyBeautiful3: He does like her he's just a mess who can't make up his mind. I've really struggled with transitioning from season 1 and 2 dont-give-a-crap Damon to the Damon of late season 2 and onwards who allows himself to not just care about the woman he loves but also about their friends, which is why it's taken so long for him to be like 'yes, I have feelings for Cassie let's do something about it'. We will get a glance into Klaus and Cass' past relationship very soon, which is something I'm also very excited about! Thanks for reviewing, and I hope you like this chapter.
Anita Simons: I'm so happy you like it! Here's the new chapter and I hope you like it!
Plumsoda: Thanks so much for reviewing! You were so sweet, it really made my day when I read your review. I'm glad you like Cass, she's my favorite of all my original characters and I get really upset when people don't get her lol so I'm so happy you're one of the people who do! Thanks for the comment about Damon's character as well. I really struggle sometimes when it comes to writing him because we're only just now approaching Chapter II of Season 2, which is when he kind of stops pretending not to care about anyone and I always feel like I'm toying the line between actual characterisation and OOC-ness. So thanks for thinking I'm doing him justice! I'm so happy you think Cass and Damon make a wonderful match! Opinions seem to be mixed on that one out there, but I agree with you. There's still a lot of things to be fixed between them, but confessions will come out soon! Hope you like this chapter, too.
Also, guys, I have been thinking about changing the rating to M, mostly because I do deal with certain dark themes, swearing, suggestive themes, etc. I would still continue to alert you guys of any TWs at the beginning of the chapters, but maybe just up the rating to cover all bases, sort of like a blanket warning.
What do you guys think?
Thanks for everything, enjoy the chapter, and I'll see you soon!