⊰ * (  forever  )

            How  e a s y  to close his eyes to the touch of her hand, to for once allow for that quietness to fill him, to hold him suspended in almost bliss and not simple existence.  M e l t i n g  into her touch, he could not help but smile at the words, at the old saying, becoming more and more fact with each passing moment. And yet, it did held some bitterness. She should not have to be a survivor and how long until a death that had always followed so close finally caught up? Hopefully never. He could not be so doomed that he’d have to watch her die over and over and over again. NOT Katerina.

            How long had it taken him to realize it wasn’t Tatia’s death that haunted him but Katerina’s? At some point one had morphed into the other, Tatia had become something so far away in his mind that the guilt was minimal, barely there. And all the while Katerina’s death gnawed at him, a thousand images of what could’ve happened, fearing that one searching Klaus favor may have caught up to her. Trusting her to  s u r v i v e  was not the same as preventing all the worst case scenarios from keeping him awake at night, staring at the ceiling, pretending to read an old book, wondering just how far away was she, how safe she could be.

            Hands grabbing for hers, kissing it softly, keeping as much closeness in between as possible. How strange to be vulnerable before her, how many years since his eyes had bared themselves so much of all that was constantly running around in his mind. How he wanted to tell her  n o,  to be brave, to be strong, to say that it was  n o t  fair for it to happen again to her. Not her.

          ❝ Are you sure you want that, Katerina? ❞  How surprisingly willing to do it. Surprisingly willing to tear down his pulse and offer it to her, to do whatever she asks. But he would need to be sure, pleading eyes unable to hide any concern, fear, years catching up to him, whatever else she may read in them. Refusal to lose the one you love. And maybe he’s not selfish enough to want her to stop living just so he won’t lose her, but maybe he is.  ❝ There is no more cure, no way back, no  n o t h i n g … ❞  Please don’t do it for me.

             She has killed herself for him often enough by now, if she should wish to die again, it must be her own choice, her own reasons, not simply a very old man who’s afraid to be alone and  l o v e s  her too much to want to let go.

                    odd was the foreign nature of this intimacy, all of him so bare,
           so stripped & all of it so beautiful. roots had burrowed deep, discovering
          depths even unbeknownst to him, such discoveries frightening. terrifying
          was the moment she pleaded with him, nearly begging for him to remain
          at her side, to LIVE rather than to serve at Klaus’ side. & the devastation
            his rejection had wrought still elicited a dull, distant ache at the mere
          recollection. & if she had been cruel, he would know the very depth that
                   blade could pierce, the crevice in one’s flesh it would create.

                                       but instead, his reveal was nurtured, embraced. it was
                           the entanglement of souls, relishing their close quarters rather than
                          fleeing to cower behind whatever armour was forged to protect them.
                        it was her body that drew closer, allowing him to feel the warmth of her
                        LIFE, svelte form cradled against the strength of his own. in this body,
                                  so fragile, so human, even as a traveler she was weak. 

               the fearsome Katherine Pierce arisen from the grave
        only to become prey. & though she was certain it heightened
      Elijah’s savior complex, mortality grew tiresome. magic came
    with a costly price, greater power dealt greater demons to conquer.
               it’s use exhausted the body, addled the mind where
                       vampirism never became so suffocating. 

                         ❛  i never wanted that cure. it was forced on me,
             shoved down my throat. i would have given anything to be what i was. ❜

                            nuances of her disdain & festering wounds seeped into every
                       syllable, the mere mention of that damned cure creating tension that
                    rivaled what was felt in the midst of her nightmares. death was far more
                     palpable, trembling at the mere thought of facing its cold permanence
                                 once more. words were spoken with conviction, free
                                                   hand settling on his chest,

                                                ❛ i want this, Elijah. & i want it to beyou. ❜