(Sometime After 'The Hybrid'.) Elena is searching Damon's room while he's out, and finds something she never expected...
Crowded streets all cleared away
One by One
Hollow heroes separate
As they run
You're so cold
Keep your hand in mine
Wise men wonder while
Strong men die
Show me how it end it's alright
Show me how defenseless you really are
Satisfy an empty inside
That's alright, let's give this another try
If you find your family, don't you cry
In this land of make-believe, dead and dry
You're so cold, but you feel alive
Lay your hands on me one last time
It's alright-Breaking Benjamin, So Cold.
Elena taps her pencil almost lazily at the edge of her page of lined paper, with a deeply throughtful look on her face.
She's sprawled across Damon's large four-poster bed, her book-bag rested near her shoulder and sunlight streamed through the opened windows for extra light.
Normally. She would have immediatlly rejected the idea of this exact scene. But with the memories in her bedroom and Stefan's she couldn't concentrate on more important things. Like the summer homework she had for her English Honors Class- WHICH, she stupidly kept putting off because of both her new laziness and her latest supernatural dilemmas.
Damon's room was comforting somehow. Empty, not over-crowded like Stefan's room or full of memories like hers. Here she could concentrate.
Elena started tapping her pencil rapidly and biting her bottom lip, trying to think up the right word flow for her self-chosen essay on the life of a Southern Eighteenth Century Teenager From a Plantation and How they were influenced and other complicated things. She'd choosen the essay topic with enthusiasm, Stefan would be her main source... or Would HAVE been- Now that he was gone she only had the thesis, and now she was a little more than totally, utterly, and most definitely screwed.
She swallows with a deep pensive look on her face, tapping the pencil harder and faster. Realizing she should either ask Damon, whom of which danced around the subject of his humanity as if the subject were poisonous or ask a Libarian where the History section was... Just as she had thought up the best option, her pencil flung from her hand and landed on Damon's pile of books.
It lay firmly at the top, pale yellow against a new looking but still evidently old dark leather bound book. Elena scowled and reached for it, pausing her hand in midair when she noticed the Journal it laid upon. She quirked a brow, her pencil utterly forgotten she yanked the book from it's post and her pencil knocked to the floor.
Amongst the black leather, at the left hand corner bore a name elegantly written in silver. Damon Demetrius Angelus Salvatore.
She smirked, Damon Demetrius Angelus? Salvatore. she thought with an inward laugh.
She hesitated but a second before opening the leather cover but preceded anway, Damon deserved it after how many times he'd read her Journal...
The first entry read: To Damon with much love, Aunt Vera Happy Birthday Nephew may you have many more to come.
Elena was surprised, most woman in the century couldn't read or write... Well, as well as Damon's 'Aunt Vera' could. Her calligraphy and spelling was perfect.
Feburary 17th, 1858.
Dear Mr. Rose,
Today, is my tenth and fives years Birthday. What a strange thing, to be older - yet still feel like a child. I do not consider myself an adult, I suppose I am far too immature and mischievous. Father says I get that from Mama, he says it's what he gets for letting her name me. Damon Demetrius Angelus Salvatore almost seems too proper don't you agree? Though I harshly suspect he had part in Angelus... twas Grandfathers name of course.
I have named you- my Fifth Journal... After my Tutor, Aaron Rose. He has been my Tutor since I was five- He was hired by my Mother who the strong-willed woman she was refused to send me to a School where and I quote, 'Diseases spread like wildfire and children are beaten by wretched harlots with wooden sticks.'
My Father tells me most of this is true. (My Mother; Aurora and her two siblings, was rasied by mean French nuns when her French Aristocrat parents were beheaded for treason of some sort.)
Though I must admit my Fathers fear of my Mother was greater than that of his son being 'beaten by wretched Harlots with sticks.' I personally think if she asked him to wear his ass for a hat... He would have immediately just in sole fear of her wrath. She died of consumption shortly after Stefan's birth, and all her used bed linens and clothes burned in fear of contracting the disease. I sometimes wonder if the reason why my Fathers acts so disconnected and cold is becuase of a broken heart, though I'm not stupid. Most do not Marry for love especially rich Southern Plantation owners like my Father. I can only hope I do not suffer the same fate. Both, if possible.
I am learned in Reading, Writing, French, Italian, English, Math, and Science. Though I also have some Bible study on sundays, I'm not all that convinced so I usually fall asleep.
Stefan Giuseppe Salvatore- My little brother of ten and two years is thoughtful and quiet, with eyes of jade and caramel colored hair.
While I bear a striking resemblance to my Mother with my black waves and lapis eyes- My brother bears instead the image of my cold and reserved Father.
He seems to be Father's favorite. I cannot blame him, personally I think I like him better than myself sometimes. While he isn't as confident as I am or as loud he is modest, quiet, and honest with a vulnerability no one can truthfully resist... It's like looking into the eyes of a Dear, cautious and innocent.
Now that I think about it... I chuckle realizing he is my complete opposite.
He is passive. I am firey tempered... He is quiet... I loud.
Elena read in fasination as Damon poured his thoughts out onto paper, revealing his thoughts about his friends and family with an honesty and love of a bright very misunderstood young man... and sadly she realized she's never known this Damon, whose carefree voice and honest thoughts covered the pages.
Along the pages were beautifully detailed drawings. Labled...
His Tutor, who was long and lean with a pointy chin and round-rimmed glasses that covered his face.
His Father, Tall, hard postured, with a tight set jaw and stern eyes.
Stefan, whose childish face was round and eyes bright somehow- filled with enthusiasm.
She never knew Damon had been such a good artist either...
"Elena, that'd better damn-well not be what I think it is."