Disclaimers: Elena Gilbert, Stefan Salvatore and friends, along with the Vampire Diaries I - IV belong to L.J. Smith. Everything else belongs to me. No harm intended or money made from this fic.
Notes:
~ Chapter ~
::Thoughts or telepathy::
_emphasis or italics_
Date posted: 10 December 2002
~ Twenty Four ~
Leon escorted Samar into one of the bedrooms that had gone unclaimed in the initial exploration, flicking on the switch as they passed through the threshold. The instant he let go of her, she headed back out the door. He grabbed the one thing that came handy – a fistful of pink-streaked black locks. "Where are you going?"
"Ow!" She jerked back when the length of hair went taut. There was no real pain in the protest, but a whole lot of indignation. "Where do you think? I'm going to beat some intelligence and manners into that humanoid mosquito – there's always a chance that some of it might actually stick."
"Considering that Makoe's the one who's been teaching you how to fight, I don't find that very prudent," Leon said mildly.
"Not _that_ overgrown, two-legged leech, the _other_ bloodsucker. You know? The one who claims to come from the same gene pool as me?"
"Oh." He released her, feeling the silky locks slide through his fingers. He regarded her fondly as she turned to him. She looked no older than thirteen, despite being a few years older than that when she was changed. Not that she looked like a chubby child; it was just that her features retained the softness of youth, having not taken on the clearer definition of maturity. Her slight build and excitability did not did not help the overall impression. "Well, Tristan has the advantage of reach and strength," he pointed out cautiously.
She sighed and crossed her arms, ducking her head. "You're right. It wouldn't be a fair fight. After all," and she grinned up at him, making the hair on his arms stand on end. "_I_ have the advantage of speed, skill _and_ brains."
Leon shook his head with mock exasperation. He had stopped trying to instill respect for her elders in her early in their acquaintance, with good reason. The imp was incorrigible.
Movement in the darkened doorway behind her interrupted their exchange. The hallway was dim because no one had bothered to hunt for the elusive switch to turn on the lights there. Leon recognized who it was first by the height of the silhouette. The illumination in the room fell on Stefan's patrician features and vivid green eyes.
He looked grimmer than when they had barged into his apartment. Then, he had been worried, anguished. Now he was torn and lost but covering it with a proud façade. Leon wondered if Stefan realized how alike he and his brother looked when they were in a bad mood.
The brown-haired vampire watched as Samar had a predictable reaction to the newcomer. What was it about the Salvatores that had that effect on women?
There was a prolonged moment of silence as everyone stared at each other. That is, Samar stared at Stefan who looked from her to Leon and back uncertainly. "Introductions are customary at this point, I believe," Leon murmured eventually. "Stefan Salvatore, this is Samar D'Angelo, Tristan's sister." The introducee recovered enough to step on his toe for presenting her in that association. He really ought to have known better, but relationships within a group were best explained, rather than leaving the outside to guess and mis-guess.
Stefan did nothing more than nod. Samar lifted her chin as defying her own initial attraction to the dark-haired vampire. She studied him keenly before asking without hesitation: "So are you a member of the vampire gangs these guys run with?" The way she phrased it put Leon in mind of a wolf pack.
"Not... really," the Stefan replied quietly, appearing unfazed by her straightforward manner. Or perhaps he was beyond caring. Leon couldn't blame him, although he felt a twinge of scorn. And people said _he_ didn't have a spine.
"Ah, well then, who are you?"
"A brother of an old friend of mine," Leon put in smoothly.
"Will you _stop_ putting people in boxes labeled with their relatives' names?" Samar scowled over her shoulder at him. "'His brother', 'his sister'."
"You asked," Leon reminded.
She rolled her eyes, something he had observed when she didn't have a comeback. "Fine. Nice meeting you. Welcome to the Mad Hatter's Tea Party. Now, if you don't mind, I'm off to show my darling brother just what I can 'handle'," she said mutinously. She flashed that unsettling smile that seemed to run in the family. "Have a nice day!" And she was gone.
Leon inhaled deeply, as if drawing in strength. "Well. That was Samar," he said unnecessarily. "Is Makoe all right?"
"Well enough. He made it to his room on his own two feet and is nursing a temporary lump on his head," Stefan replied. Was that an attempt at humor, even a weak one? Leon smiled faintly in response. The smile grew noticeably at the sound of a crash from a couple of rooms down followed by an enraged roar from Tristan... and another muffled thump.
Stefan heard the sounds too, from the way his attention strayed. "We are a violent lot, but Samar doesn't differentiate between friends and enemies. Or blood kin for that matter," he added as another sound of destruction rang down the hall.
"I'll... remember that," Stefan said. With a nod of acknowledgment, he was gone. Leon waited another minute or two to allow the other vampire time enough for a graceful exit before going to break up the fight between the siblings.
* * *
::I'm just a human, dammit!:: Elena thought, struggling to control the miniature whirlwind of power before her. ::Not contain, but channel,:: Jerrick had instructed. ::Not into yourself but into the natural lines of force.::
He had first explained the theory of it. All of existence operated on a complex system, a grand design where Power flowed, as water might flow from sea to clouds to rain to rivers to sea. The Old Ones had accumulated the life force from their victims in addition to their inherent energy. When they were unmade, the Power could be dissipated back into the same system that it was taken from. Living things, weather systems, inanimate objects, yadda yadda.
The second step was for her to be able to see the streams of power. Dimly, she had sensed the flow of force, standing barefoot under the trees as Jerrick directed her to do. It was a melting-icicle-trickle compared to the flood of pure Power left behind by Kier Achmed, but Jerrick had been satisfied with her progress.
"Think of electricity and how it is grounded – dissipated into the earth. Power can be dispelled in the same way. The earth is a subtle system, the most stable of them all. That's why, even though the other systems can take in more Power, you'll learn to work with this system first," Jerrick had explained.
And here she was at step three: handling the power, directing it where she willed. And here she would stay, it seemed, forever.
Elena tried again, for what felt like the hundredth time – concentrate, she told herself – imagining a funnel and a net holding the Power Jerrick had loosed at her. The net contracted, forcing the Power through the funnel and into the natural lines in the earth…
But instead of being absorbed into the earth, the power ran over the surface, settling uneasily like oil on water.
She felt a stab of irritation and her control slipped. The Power sprang back, alive, seeking an outlet, like a wild creature striking–
Someone stepped in and took over the situation. Power was gathered and stored for the next practice, which Elena was sure would come all too soon. She slumped to one side, propping herself up on one hand.
Jerrick mirrored her position, seated cross-legged on bare earth with shoes set neatly to one side, minus the sideways slant. He was studying her, wearing a detached, thoughtful expression.
"That was better," he evaluated. "You ability to handle Power is improving. It is the channeling that you're facing difficulty with."
"I don't understand why you can't do all the channeling," Elena said, a little peevishly. They were deep into the night; the mansion was dark save a single light undoubtedly left by the faithful Eiran. The air was more than a little chilly and Elena was beginning to think longingly of her warm, soft bed.
"It's complicated," was all the explanation she got, much to her dissatisfaction. Knowing that probing the issue was futile, Elena turned to another concern.
"When I face an Old One, there's no way I can send all the Power into the earth – not without having some physical effect, probably negative, on the system." But could the earth accept such violent energy as they intended to introduce to it? What are the consequences of doing that? She did not want to set off an earthquake.
"As I have said, I don't intend for you to do that," he said coolly.
Once upon a time, she might have thrown a tantrum and demanded to know what he _did_ intend – and gotten answers. But that was in 'the old days'. When she was just a teenager, dealing with other teenagers and people in her life. When the love was a game in which she always won and choices were hers to make as she wished. And yet, some things never changed. Like the way Elena still schemed to get her way.
"I think that it would help me in training to know what the end result is," she said diplomatically.
Jerrick shot her a look that told her he wasn't taken in by the polite phrasing. However, he did give in. "There are several possibilities. The healers teach you to channel Power into living things for desired results. The diviners can source where the natural balance in the weather can be safely changed without affecting global climate patterns. The witches can show you how to store Power in inanimate objects or to harness the Power and use it offensively."
Elena nodded, satisfied. This sounded more promising, although she wasn't sure she wanted to be able to use the Power left behind by Old Ones. It had to be tainted with thousands of deaths, stained with millennia of depravity...
"Now, let us try again," Jerrick broke into her thoughts.
Notes:
~ Chapter ~
::Thoughts or telepathy::
_emphasis or italics_
Date posted: 10 December 2002
~ Twenty Four ~
Leon escorted Samar into one of the bedrooms that had gone unclaimed in the initial exploration, flicking on the switch as they passed through the threshold. The instant he let go of her, she headed back out the door. He grabbed the one thing that came handy – a fistful of pink-streaked black locks. "Where are you going?"
"Ow!" She jerked back when the length of hair went taut. There was no real pain in the protest, but a whole lot of indignation. "Where do you think? I'm going to beat some intelligence and manners into that humanoid mosquito – there's always a chance that some of it might actually stick."
"Considering that Makoe's the one who's been teaching you how to fight, I don't find that very prudent," Leon said mildly.
"Not _that_ overgrown, two-legged leech, the _other_ bloodsucker. You know? The one who claims to come from the same gene pool as me?"
"Oh." He released her, feeling the silky locks slide through his fingers. He regarded her fondly as she turned to him. She looked no older than thirteen, despite being a few years older than that when she was changed. Not that she looked like a chubby child; it was just that her features retained the softness of youth, having not taken on the clearer definition of maturity. Her slight build and excitability did not did not help the overall impression. "Well, Tristan has the advantage of reach and strength," he pointed out cautiously.
She sighed and crossed her arms, ducking her head. "You're right. It wouldn't be a fair fight. After all," and she grinned up at him, making the hair on his arms stand on end. "_I_ have the advantage of speed, skill _and_ brains."
Leon shook his head with mock exasperation. He had stopped trying to instill respect for her elders in her early in their acquaintance, with good reason. The imp was incorrigible.
Movement in the darkened doorway behind her interrupted their exchange. The hallway was dim because no one had bothered to hunt for the elusive switch to turn on the lights there. Leon recognized who it was first by the height of the silhouette. The illumination in the room fell on Stefan's patrician features and vivid green eyes.
He looked grimmer than when they had barged into his apartment. Then, he had been worried, anguished. Now he was torn and lost but covering it with a proud façade. Leon wondered if Stefan realized how alike he and his brother looked when they were in a bad mood.
The brown-haired vampire watched as Samar had a predictable reaction to the newcomer. What was it about the Salvatores that had that effect on women?
There was a prolonged moment of silence as everyone stared at each other. That is, Samar stared at Stefan who looked from her to Leon and back uncertainly. "Introductions are customary at this point, I believe," Leon murmured eventually. "Stefan Salvatore, this is Samar D'Angelo, Tristan's sister." The introducee recovered enough to step on his toe for presenting her in that association. He really ought to have known better, but relationships within a group were best explained, rather than leaving the outside to guess and mis-guess.
Stefan did nothing more than nod. Samar lifted her chin as defying her own initial attraction to the dark-haired vampire. She studied him keenly before asking without hesitation: "So are you a member of the vampire gangs these guys run with?" The way she phrased it put Leon in mind of a wolf pack.
"Not... really," the Stefan replied quietly, appearing unfazed by her straightforward manner. Or perhaps he was beyond caring. Leon couldn't blame him, although he felt a twinge of scorn. And people said _he_ didn't have a spine.
"Ah, well then, who are you?"
"A brother of an old friend of mine," Leon put in smoothly.
"Will you _stop_ putting people in boxes labeled with their relatives' names?" Samar scowled over her shoulder at him. "'His brother', 'his sister'."
"You asked," Leon reminded.
She rolled her eyes, something he had observed when she didn't have a comeback. "Fine. Nice meeting you. Welcome to the Mad Hatter's Tea Party. Now, if you don't mind, I'm off to show my darling brother just what I can 'handle'," she said mutinously. She flashed that unsettling smile that seemed to run in the family. "Have a nice day!" And she was gone.
Leon inhaled deeply, as if drawing in strength. "Well. That was Samar," he said unnecessarily. "Is Makoe all right?"
"Well enough. He made it to his room on his own two feet and is nursing a temporary lump on his head," Stefan replied. Was that an attempt at humor, even a weak one? Leon smiled faintly in response. The smile grew noticeably at the sound of a crash from a couple of rooms down followed by an enraged roar from Tristan... and another muffled thump.
Stefan heard the sounds too, from the way his attention strayed. "We are a violent lot, but Samar doesn't differentiate between friends and enemies. Or blood kin for that matter," he added as another sound of destruction rang down the hall.
"I'll... remember that," Stefan said. With a nod of acknowledgment, he was gone. Leon waited another minute or two to allow the other vampire time enough for a graceful exit before going to break up the fight between the siblings.
* * *
::I'm just a human, dammit!:: Elena thought, struggling to control the miniature whirlwind of power before her. ::Not contain, but channel,:: Jerrick had instructed. ::Not into yourself but into the natural lines of force.::
He had first explained the theory of it. All of existence operated on a complex system, a grand design where Power flowed, as water might flow from sea to clouds to rain to rivers to sea. The Old Ones had accumulated the life force from their victims in addition to their inherent energy. When they were unmade, the Power could be dissipated back into the same system that it was taken from. Living things, weather systems, inanimate objects, yadda yadda.
The second step was for her to be able to see the streams of power. Dimly, she had sensed the flow of force, standing barefoot under the trees as Jerrick directed her to do. It was a melting-icicle-trickle compared to the flood of pure Power left behind by Kier Achmed, but Jerrick had been satisfied with her progress.
"Think of electricity and how it is grounded – dissipated into the earth. Power can be dispelled in the same way. The earth is a subtle system, the most stable of them all. That's why, even though the other systems can take in more Power, you'll learn to work with this system first," Jerrick had explained.
And here she was at step three: handling the power, directing it where she willed. And here she would stay, it seemed, forever.
Elena tried again, for what felt like the hundredth time – concentrate, she told herself – imagining a funnel and a net holding the Power Jerrick had loosed at her. The net contracted, forcing the Power through the funnel and into the natural lines in the earth…
But instead of being absorbed into the earth, the power ran over the surface, settling uneasily like oil on water.
She felt a stab of irritation and her control slipped. The Power sprang back, alive, seeking an outlet, like a wild creature striking–
Someone stepped in and took over the situation. Power was gathered and stored for the next practice, which Elena was sure would come all too soon. She slumped to one side, propping herself up on one hand.
Jerrick mirrored her position, seated cross-legged on bare earth with shoes set neatly to one side, minus the sideways slant. He was studying her, wearing a detached, thoughtful expression.
"That was better," he evaluated. "You ability to handle Power is improving. It is the channeling that you're facing difficulty with."
"I don't understand why you can't do all the channeling," Elena said, a little peevishly. They were deep into the night; the mansion was dark save a single light undoubtedly left by the faithful Eiran. The air was more than a little chilly and Elena was beginning to think longingly of her warm, soft bed.
"It's complicated," was all the explanation she got, much to her dissatisfaction. Knowing that probing the issue was futile, Elena turned to another concern.
"When I face an Old One, there's no way I can send all the Power into the earth – not without having some physical effect, probably negative, on the system." But could the earth accept such violent energy as they intended to introduce to it? What are the consequences of doing that? She did not want to set off an earthquake.
"As I have said, I don't intend for you to do that," he said coolly.
Once upon a time, she might have thrown a tantrum and demanded to know what he _did_ intend – and gotten answers. But that was in 'the old days'. When she was just a teenager, dealing with other teenagers and people in her life. When the love was a game in which she always won and choices were hers to make as she wished. And yet, some things never changed. Like the way Elena still schemed to get her way.
"I think that it would help me in training to know what the end result is," she said diplomatically.
Jerrick shot her a look that told her he wasn't taken in by the polite phrasing. However, he did give in. "There are several possibilities. The healers teach you to channel Power into living things for desired results. The diviners can source where the natural balance in the weather can be safely changed without affecting global climate patterns. The witches can show you how to store Power in inanimate objects or to harness the Power and use it offensively."
Elena nodded, satisfied. This sounded more promising, although she wasn't sure she wanted to be able to use the Power left behind by Old Ones. It had to be tainted with thousands of deaths, stained with millennia of depravity...
"Now, let us try again," Jerrick broke into her thoughts.