Driving her late husband's pickup she squints her eyes as the thick fog encompasses the trees surrounding the forest on the highway towards Mystic Falls..
She can barely see twenty feet in front of her.
Turning around a corner she barely has time to hit her breaks as a figure appears from the foliage into her vehicle's path. She shuts her eyes, missing the startled and confused face of the person she hits.
Her truck comes to an abrupt stop causing her to open her eyes, gasping as she sees the person completely fine in front of her. She could have sworn she hit something.
The unruly hair of the person meets her gaze first. Before frightened brown eyes meet hers. the figure's face unveils from the fog, enlisting another inhale as the Gilbert girl comes to mind. She has an uncanny resemblance to the boy in front of her.
His gaze continues to hold hers through the window of her truck. His olive skin is decorated with what looks like silly drawings from a book called 'runes of the old' she read on the insistence of her wayward husband. She only pulled the silly thing out after her sweet love's death.
The braids woven in the matted hair only adds to the boys' unruliness. The dirt caking the boy's face hiding his olive complexion peeking through makes her have the urge to wipe it with her thumb.
Shaking her head she leans out her open window "you alright, there? It's too dangerous at this time, it's almost twilight mister."
'You young ones, Halloween is still a few weeks away.' She'll never understand how these young kids dress so insanely. This boy with his costume in the middle of the woods.
"Well, you gonna stand there or you gonna step in?" The boy blinks as he seems to come to himself, before a benign smile appears. The following words out his mouth make her sigh.
'Of course the boy isn't from around here'. Would explain why she's never seen him around Mystic.
Stepping out of the truck, mindful of the drop. She waddles up to the boy barely passing her 5'6. His lengthy locks swaying gently in the breeze filtered through the trees. She can't explain the otherworldly feeling she gets from the boy; she just knows she needs to assist him. The beautiful boy was just staring at her. She can't help but feel her very soul is being judged.
He gently took her hands. Unbeknownst to her, their palms glow a gentle red as the boy siphons the little magic every living thing possesses to gain the knowledge he so desperately needs for this strange world he's found himself awoken to.
The noises were jarring, there was a constant buzz that got louder as he neared the strange road. The towering poles with metal ropes gave off the weirdest hum.
The feeling of Mother Earth was different now, the ambient magic listing in the air was crying in his ears, clashing with the manufactured buzzing made him feel off balance, so when the sound of a roaring animal coming after him made him jolt and start as a metallic beast came after him.
He barely had enough time to draw up a shield he wasn't sure would uphold. Luckily the beast seemed to slow down as it neared so the impact didn't ruin his ill prepared protection.
The fact that there was a elderly woman taming such a creature made him feel wary.
When the foreign but familiar, if changed mixing of the Anglo Saxons dialect met his ear he knew then that the world he has woken up to is vastly different than when he was put to sleep.
Being unconscious trapped in his own head gave the boy plenty of time to analyze the intricate magic used on him. The Lady used a variation of the cursed immortality.
The runs drawn on his body are not tattoos, but blood that has dried for so long it's blacked. The dirt clinging to his body doesn't help the darkening of the dried blood.
He suspected something wasn't right when his Lady personally gave him a brewed drink. He didn't feel any malicious intent in the concoction, oh he felt the magic in the drink, he just trusted his Lady.
He doesn't know if his trust was misplaced.
He knew he was made for something. His lady would always preach how he's the key to the balance and the one who will bring order to the supernatural.
'Balance and Order how?'
His mind is brought back as the older woman sways.
He hastily catches her instilling his muscles with magic. He doesn't even feel the drain he used to when using enhancement magic.
Not like what his brethren talked about when they would feel a drain, cause unlike him he would actively have to replenish his reserves.
But now…
'What did my-Cilo do?' He thinks as he steadies the elder woman. His experience with the mystic is very vast, but extremely different from his fellow practitioners.
He doesn't say spells, or incantations.
When one is a siphoner they feel and some like him can see the magic in the air, if he wills it.
They have an almost instinctual knowledge in regards to magic.
Siphoner's can sense magic and listen to what magic tells them. They can see and feel the magic in anything, as everything has magic coursing through it.
Admittedly regular witches can achieve the same feets as siphoners, they just have an easier time grasping magic, quite literally.
He can tell the ritual that Cilo did has changed him. He just doesn't know how.
Before the ritual taking an onslaught of information by surfing another's memories, the drain on him would leave him winded for half a candle wick, or an hour as his new knowledge corrects.
The woman who he has enchanted to ignore his irregularities, seems to have gathered herself. He debated on whether or not to leave her but he needs someone to help guide him in his new world.
So he sits down in the weird beast, Truck his mind corrects and watches as the old woman starts the roaring machine and drives towards a little house his mind can recall seeing as he scraped her memories.
——-
"Nathaniel" The soft voice of the older woman, who picked him up a couple days ago, Thurma his mind corrects draws him out of his bliss.
"It's Natanail" he mumbles uselessly.
Pulling himself up he can't help but gaze around the small room Thurma kindly lent him.
The light pink floral patterns blot the walls, with delicate woodwork along the crowning. two shelves full of random nick nacks frame a single queen bed with a soft hand knitted quilt draped over him finished with a ceiling fan that gives him a gentle breeze. He still can't believe the ingenuity of man.The advancements they've made while he's been out.
Thankfully, the startling buzz of what he now knows is electricity dulled into a distant memory.
Throwing the quilt off of him he presses his feet onto the soft carpet, still Jarrs him how much confort people can get nowadays. The easy access to necessities, like food and water.
Walking towards the closet he reaches for the few pieces of clothing he managed to acquire. Snatching a pair of dark Jeans that are surprisingly comfortable for how tight they are, and a simple black T-shirt. Thankfully, she had some of her grandchildrens clothing stashed away, though she seemed to be embarrassed that he could only fit her granddaughter's clothing.
To him he's never really cared how he dressed and when he was under Cilo he would dress similar to her in an attempt to emulate his idol, or former Idol he doesn't know.
He's not sure if he's upset that she did this unwillingly or that she didn't involve him in the ritual. If he was involved he would understand what's happening to him. He'd understand what he's meant to do.
He can feel how unbalanced the fabric of the supernatural is. Something is going to happen, he just doesn't know what or when, but he knows it's soon.
Feeling the water cooling as it is cascading down his body tells him his shower is running out of hot water. Though given that he's bathed in rivers, lakes, and even the rare hot spring, he's nothing new to drastic temperatures when cleaning, but nothing beats the pressure of a hot shower.
With that he shuts the shower off and steps out.
Watching as the mirror unfoggs at his will.
Staring at him, with a thin lithe body was a boy, if you could use the term boy seeing as he's technically over a millenia and a half.
Though he was unconscious for a majority of that so he doesn't know if that counts.
His olive skin darkened with a lively flush from the shower. His dark locks trimmed to the middle of his back framing his delicate face. The dark brown eyes are framed by thick lashes. His plump lips almost gave him a permanent pout.
From the memories he saw when he went through the old lady's mind, he saw an image of a girl that she compared him to, a girl who looks uncannily like him.
'So the balance thought to make more Doppelgängers' was it because he was a defect? No, he doesn't feel that's the answer.
That's just his bitterness of the parting words Qetsiyah who he met briefly in his short death.
'Oh, I died' and so the cycle continued.
He wonders about the others after him?
Does that mean his parents had other children?
they told him they wouldn't out of fear of them turning out like-
He needs to stop thinking about that, it's not like before we're he had the chance to try to make amends with them.
'They're dead.'
Shaking his head, he blinks at his reflection, his wet hair clinging to his face as he stares. With a sigh he finishes getting ready.
Stepping out of the steaming bathroom he finally gets the button through the hole. With a triumphant feeling he dries his hair the rest of the way buy combing his hair with his fingers while adding a little magic to vaporize the water, a trick Cilo taught him.
Deciding he's not in the mood nor in attire that would look good with his braidings he leaves his hair be. Plus he knows his intricate braiding would only attract looks.
Given that he's in a town with another person with a face the same as his. He can't afford to draw more attention than that will already bring.
Especially as he doesn't know the workings of the supernatural anymore. He can sense newer or a new species for him around, as well as an oppressing amount of anguished magic.
Giving Thurma a smile as she hands him a plate of food when he sits down at the table, he can't help but feel a fondness for the kind hearted woman. After the first few days he gave her her free will back, with obvious restrictions. She has taken everything admirably in his opinion.
She even insisted on him staying with her.
He won't ever admit that the stern look of affection on her face warmed his heart as she told him "having a presence in the house would make my days brighter."
Her children and grandchildren had migrated to the west coast leaving her with just her husband before his death.
The plate of what she called pancakes was very satisfying, he still marvels at the intricacies that the modern world has. The variety of cuisines is mind boggling to him. He happily eats the meal giving a polite thank you he learned was proper for use in giving his thanks.
He's not sure what he's gonna do. He knows he needs to contact the Doppelgänger he had seen, if not just to see what makes her, them tick. He wants to know how different he is from her, besides the obvious. He doesn't think siphon Doppelgänger is a norm. Though he does exist, so…
"Oh, I just remembered I ran into a, uh ah John Gilbert while running Errands yesterday. Not that you know who he is, excuse me. He's the brother of the late father of Miss Elena Gilbert, the little lady who you look like."
'She looks like me'
'Well we look like Amara.'
"Anyway, I happened to mention that the Gilbert's must have missed a child when coming home from the hospital, the man had such a strange reaction and insisted on meeting you."
He stares at the woman, before closing his eyes. He can't fault the woman for mistaking him as a relative, he's not been forthcoming with her, he's not stupid, tho thinking on how easy it was for her to spread his presence he's reconsidering.
"Oh" is all he says.
She gives him a reassuring smile not sensing his discomfort, before explaining how John was coming over for breakfast.
"Wha-"
Before he can finish a presence of an unknown entity, one of the new species he's sensed around the town.
Seems to be traveling closer to his destination.
"Nat-" her words were interrupted as a knock on the door resonates throughout the house.
Giving the woman a look while spelling her into a daze, not wanting to have to worry for her in case he needs to defend himself. He slowly approaches the door, gathering his magic just in case.
As he looks through the peephole his eyes catch bright blue, with a jolt he opens the door a spell stopping on his lips as the words from the brunette beside the blonde.
"Well, hello Katherine"