ff|tvd: 01 | wip
elejah ♚ i'm learning all your tricks / i can hurt you from inside
summary: Alt S2. After setting Katherine and Stefan loose, Elijah and Elena’s deal involved Elijah compelling his way into the Gilbert home. Always looking for information for later, Elena grows increasingly curious about Elijah’s lack of sleeping habits.
ship: elena/elijah
“It’s rude to stare,” he said, without opening his eyes.
“So you weren’t sleeping,” Elena confirmed, confidently.
“I suppose the intense visualization just now of what I want to do to this town counted as a daydream, and yet.”
Elena stepped closer, watching him closely. “Do you ever sleep?”
“It’s a luxury. Not a need.”
“When was the last time you had that luxury?”
He raised his head and looked at her, still not moving from the throne-like way he sat in her living room's armchair. “Are your little pet vampires hoping for an opening?” His enunciation made the words seem so trivial. The way he dismissed the idea of Stefan and Damon coming to kill someone, and it seemed their position of calling themselves vampires, gave her both chills and exasperation no one believed her repetitious declarations she had no desire for pointless fighting.
That even he didn’t; it bothered her.
“No.”
He still made no move to answer her question. It was beginning to gnaw at her. Whenever she asked Stefan about vampires, he’d immediately give her everything he knew. Her curiosity was another thing he said he loved about her. It wasn’t doing her any favors right now. Elijah didn’t seem yet to like indulging questions, only answers.
“If you told me what you were looking for,” at his closed, unblinking gaze, she paused. Then, she pushed, though she couldn’t help being sincere from a practical perspective: “Why the burial ground is important... I could help.”
When he'd handed her the worn grimmoire and told her to begin, she suspected this was more to occupy time than he thought she could find anything novel that Mr ‘I don’t need to wear ties with my suits or button up my shirts I do what I want’ had missed.
She stumbled more than once, juggling trying to make sense of chicken scratch, early nineteenth century English, with filing away what she was looking at. It wasn't incantations like Bonnie's; it seemed more of a history...
“Continue.” He prompted, expectantly, when Elena realized she'd stopped.
Inside she bristled. And she just wanted to say No, because sometimes that easy smugness irritated her a hair more than he as a whole scared her. He wanted to compel her? Drag her around? It made her skin crawl, but fine.
But he was in her house, using her mother’s mugs with tea from the kettle Stefan got for her, and in the morning read the newspaper her father had subscribed to since Elena could put together the shapes making up the comics. Breakfast itself filled the table with the wrong kind of four people.
Elijah touches her aunt's wrist and smiles comfortingly when her eyes meet his. “It’s not a problem Jenna,” he tells her in a layered voice. Jenna blinks rapidly after he releases her, and stops asking about John.
Elena’s fists curl tighter in her lap. If the threat of his retaliation weren’t something that kept her from breathing normally near him, she’d stake him, somehow.
(“Is he at least going to pay rent?” Jeremy asks her bitterly on the way to school. He blames her. He blames her. He blames her.)
With pursed lips, Elena flipped the hard cover over the yellowed pages without marking her spot, without looking away from him. It made a dull thump, and she was a little surprised dust didn’t explode and the pages disintegrate at her abuse.
Yes, she was a hypocrite, with a side order of problems with vampires trying to tell her what to do, what else was knew?
“Do brains gets smaller with every doppelganger, or is just you?” Damon sneers.
Elena watches without interfering while he crumbles to the ground screaming, and leaves him with Bonnie.
“I’m going to go get back to my homework.” She said what felt too loudly, trying not to shake. She could feel his eyes burning into her back long after she left the room.
summary: Alt S2. After setting Katherine and Stefan loose, Elijah and Elena’s deal involved Elijah compelling his way into the Gilbert home. Always looking for information for later, Elena grows increasingly curious about Elijah’s lack of sleeping habits.
ship: elena/elijah
“It’s rude to stare,” he said, without opening his eyes.
“So you weren’t sleeping,” Elena confirmed, confidently.
“I suppose the intense visualization just now of what I want to do to this town counted as a daydream, and yet.”
Elena stepped closer, watching him closely. “Do you ever sleep?”
“It’s a luxury. Not a need.”
“When was the last time you had that luxury?”
He raised his head and looked at her, still not moving from the throne-like way he sat in her living room's armchair. “Are your little pet vampires hoping for an opening?” His enunciation made the words seem so trivial. The way he dismissed the idea of Stefan and Damon coming to kill someone, and it seemed their position of calling themselves vampires, gave her both chills and exasperation no one believed her repetitious declarations she had no desire for pointless fighting.
That even he didn’t; it bothered her.
“No.”
He still made no move to answer her question. It was beginning to gnaw at her. Whenever she asked Stefan about vampires, he’d immediately give her everything he knew. Her curiosity was another thing he said he loved about her. It wasn’t doing her any favors right now. Elijah didn’t seem yet to like indulging questions, only answers.
“If you told me what you were looking for,” at his closed, unblinking gaze, she paused. Then, she pushed, though she couldn’t help being sincere from a practical perspective: “Why the burial ground is important... I could help.”
When he'd handed her the worn grimmoire and told her to begin, she suspected this was more to occupy time than he thought she could find anything novel that Mr ‘I don’t need to wear ties with my suits or button up my shirts I do what I want’ had missed.
She stumbled more than once, juggling trying to make sense of chicken scratch, early nineteenth century English, with filing away what she was looking at. It wasn't incantations like Bonnie's; it seemed more of a history...
“Continue.” He prompted, expectantly, when Elena realized she'd stopped.
Inside she bristled. And she just wanted to say No, because sometimes that easy smugness irritated her a hair more than he as a whole scared her. He wanted to compel her? Drag her around? It made her skin crawl, but fine.
But he was in her house, using her mother’s mugs with tea from the kettle Stefan got for her, and in the morning read the newspaper her father had subscribed to since Elena could put together the shapes making up the comics. Breakfast itself filled the table with the wrong kind of four people.
Elijah touches her aunt's wrist and smiles comfortingly when her eyes meet his. “It’s not a problem Jenna,” he tells her in a layered voice. Jenna blinks rapidly after he releases her, and stops asking about John.
Elena’s fists curl tighter in her lap. If the threat of his retaliation weren’t something that kept her from breathing normally near him, she’d stake him, somehow.
(“Is he at least going to pay rent?” Jeremy asks her bitterly on the way to school. He blames her. He blames her. He blames her.)
With pursed lips, Elena flipped the hard cover over the yellowed pages without marking her spot, without looking away from him. It made a dull thump, and she was a little surprised dust didn’t explode and the pages disintegrate at her abuse.
Yes, she was a hypocrite, with a side order of problems with vampires trying to tell her what to do, what else was knew?
“Do brains gets smaller with every doppelganger, or is just you?” Damon sneers.
Elena watches without interfering while he crumbles to the ground screaming, and leaves him with Bonnie.
“I’m going to go get back to my homework.” She said what felt too loudly, trying not to shake. She could feel his eyes burning into her back long after she left the room.