The last thing Keelin tells Freya to do, before they part ways for good, is to take a break and go see her niece.
There's a part of her that says she shouldn't listen, that she needs to focus on reuniting her family and uniting them with Hope, but there's too much of Keelin lingering in the halls of the Mikaelson residence, too many reminders of what they had that tried and failed. (It is good memories, that much is certain. It was happy and loving, and something she hasn't had in a long time. But all good things come to an end, in that bittersweet way, and Keelin is right. Freya needs to get away.)
She calls Hayley to let her know she's coming and makes her way back to Mystic Falls for the second time, this time of her own accord. After checking in with Hayley and Hope, showering her with presents from her aunts, uncle and father, she makes her way out to investigate the local bar scene. This can't be a vampire town without a good source of alcohol.
She arrives at the Grill, slides onto a bar stool, and leans forward to flash the bartender a friendly smile. "Your best tequila sunrise, please."
It's been a rough night. Then again, every night's been a rough night since his short-lived wedding. Stefan swears he sees his brother in every shadow, every reflection in every mirror. A while ago, he might've been right. Now, he's just longing to hold onto someone who can't reach back to him.
Worst part is, he can't even drink anymore. The humanity he had prized so much had come with a bitter, bitter consequence: his liver can't repair itself.
So when he walks into the Grill and chooses to sit next to a familiar face, it's for an order of salty cheese fries and a soda. Once he's gotten it in, he leans forward, resting his elbows on the edge of the counter.
"Hey," he says with a grin, as if he hadn't heard about the visitor checking up on her precious niece. (Caroline had texted him the moment she'd heard, and frankly, the live updates had been both entertaining and exasperating.) "Long time no see."
Freya takes her drink as he sits next to her, and she turns with a smile to the only person in Mystic Falls who is actually happy to see her. It's not that she doesn't like some of the people in town - Matt Donovan is growing on her (slowly, and she on him, despite her last name), and Alaric and Caroline are quite charming, but she can't really say she would call any of them friend.
Stefan, though, certainly meets those ranks.
"Hey yourself," she says with a small smile. "I would have come by sooner, but I spent five years in a mystical coma. Made it a little hard to visit friends."
"Just a little, yeah," he teases, though his smile no longer reaches his eyes. He'd assumed the worst, based on Hope's presence at his boarding school, but Freya's joke had indirectly confirmed some of his suspicions.
He looks older than the last time Freya's seen him, for certain; he's taller, and his facial features have settled in, as if finally telling the world that he's growing up.
"You staying just for the night, or...?" He sounds more hopeful than he wants to let on. "Maybe a little longer than that?"
"I was instructed to take a vacation and see my niece, so I am following doctor's orders."
The joke has a slight bittersweet tone to it, given the way things have ended with Keelin, but it's likely for the best. Their relationship had been important, to both of them, but Keelin needed more than a girl that was always caught up in saving her family, while Freya couldn't bear to choose a life where they truly could never be together again - where Klaus couldn't be in the same room as his daughter.
She would always love her, as much as she could have, but it's for the best that they're moving on.
"So yes, I am staying. At least for a little while. Klaus invited me to visit him in Australia at the end of the summer, but until then I have no ... definite plans."
So that's where Klaus disappeared off to. Stefan had suspected the worst, from what Caroline had told him, but his old friend would do just fine down under. Make some friends with the fishes, maybe learn to grill on the barbie...
"Better hope he means our summer, and not an Australian winter," Stefan quips, though his smile's lost a little of its luster. "I'm sure the school is probably the last place you'd want to stay in, but we've got space if you think you'll be around a while."
He couldn't blame her if she turned him down: as much as he loved teaching the kids American history (and literature - he couldn't forget how many hours he spent grading their essays), they were quite the handful. Even though he'd lost his superhearing, he could've sworn he'd heard a few giggling about him underneath their breaths.
Still, it had given him a renewed sense of purpose. Without his brother, Stefan wasn't sure if he would've found the will to live again - and when he's with the kids, he sometimes forgets how hopeless everything had seemed in the beginning.
"I'm staying with Hayley, but thank you." The offer is a kind one all the same. "It's probably better that way - I'm not really the best with children beyond Hope."
Vincent would probably be horrified if he knew that she was influencing young magical minds. Then again, a place like this is probably something Vincent would love, if he didn't have his responsibilities in New Orleans with Marcel.
"But if you need to get away from the school and would like to give me the grand tour of Mystic Falls, that I believe is an offer I can accept."
"Gladly." He wouldn't mind the break, either. Stefan needed a couple of hours away from being Mr. Salvatore - and he's pretty sure Jeremy and Caroline can hold down the fort in his absence. In a real crisis, anyway, he would be a sitting duck.
As his fries come in, he shoots her an apologetic look, as if he can't bear to part from his food -
She laughs a bit at that before shaking her head. "You can eat first. I won't be standing here, tapping my foot impatiently. I actually came in for something to eat myself."
So if he doesn't mind sitting and talking to her for a little while longer, they can both get what they want.
Oh thank God. Stefan's shoulders sink with unspoken relief as he keeps the basket of salty, gooey cheese fries between them. Prior to rejoining humanity, he wouldn't have given the unhealthy treat a second thought. Now? Every moment is precious, and he figures he can indulge in this more often.
“In that case, I can safely recommend everything. You can't go wrong.”
Though he will pull the waiter over, just to pay for the meal before she can.
“They're incredible. Also the most unhealthy thing known to man, which is probably half of its appeal.”
He reaches for a fry and takes a bite. He will regret this in the morning, he can already tell, but he's gotta sell it – so he gives Freya a wide grin and motions for her to try.
She eyes him for a moment, curious, before reaching forward and taking one of the fries between her fingers. There's only a moment of hesitation before she pops it in her mouth, and her eyes widen in surprise. One hand comes up to cover her lips as she tries to speak as she chews.
Perhaps he shouldn't sound so confident about a dish that's pretty much guaranteed to increase his risk of cardiovascular disease, but he only lives once. (As the kids say.)
"It's supposedly even better with chili, if you wanna spring for that."
It's definitely something to consider as she weighs her food options, then she smirks slightly.
"But is the chili here as good as the chili at Rosseau's?" The tiny New Orleans bar had suffered a great deal since the loss of Sophie Devereaux in terms of food, but they did manage to find a chef who could get very, very close.
Or at least that's what she's been told. Sophie was already dead by the time Freya arrived in New Orleans.
"Well, you've got a pretty good guide with you." Stefan grins, helping himself to a few more of those unhealthy fries. God, how did he ever subsist on animal blood again?
"Food aside, is there anything you really wanna do?"
She pauses for a moment, before giving a small shrug. "Unfortunately, there happen to be multitudes of answers to that question. Even though I'm technically a thousand years old, I have never really had the opportunity to do much."
Stefan reaches out for his phone, making a big show out of opening up a note-taking app. "That just means we've gotta hit the ground running."
Chalk it up to his newfound humanity, or his desire to actually live again, but Freya's lack of experience is an opportunity to get themselves out there. See what the world has to offer.
Or at least, what Mystic Falls and the greater state of Virginia can.
A whole century, condensed in an evening or two... Stefan raises his eyebrows at the challenge. A lesser man might think it impossible. That lesser man also doesn't have Stefan's penchant for self-punishment.
"In that case, we'll go with the short version." He laughs too. "Oh, what about slang? Do we need to get you up to speed on that too?"
"I think slang I have handled," she says with a small nod. "The benefits of having a young niece who spends a lot of time with the people creating it."
Some words still trip her up every now and then, but Hope knows she's surrounded by very old people and is always willing to take it step by step. At least they don't shun her for it or try to correct her language.
Plus, Hope and her peers are far more reliable. While Stefan takes pride in his linguistic ability, slang and him don't always agree. It's either because he's a few years behind, or he didn't catch up to his supposed "peers," or honestly, some decades, he just didn't bother.
(Why "ginchy" went out of use in favor of "apprehensive," he'll never know.)
"Now multiply that by nineteen, and you've got my life," he teases, finally helping himself to his soda. "Not that I particularly mind it."
"As long as you enjoy it, that's what matters." She finishes off her own fries, before knocking back the rest of her drink. "Though speaking of Hope, I should probably get back before she thinks I'm neglecting her. Perhaps we can make plans for that tour another day?"
Every day, Stefan thinks he's getting a little better. For one thing, his room's no longer on fire when he wakes up. For another, he's growing used to the ever-present instinct to nurture, to save even the tiniest of creatures. (Which makes class awkward, when he interrupts it to save some spider's or beetle's life.)
Bonnie had called his newfound magic a gift and a curse before she'd gone on her grand tour of South Africa and the Ivory Coast. Stefan was more inclined to think the latter. Romanticizing magic was a lot easier when he didn't actually have to hold it all in.
Taking one of his journals, he had ventured out to the edge of Salvatore Manor, where the property almost seems to melt with the woods behind. A grimoire is supposed to be his cookbook and his overall guide to a life he never asked for, let alone wanted - but right now, it's a bunch of jumbled, blank pages. Without Bonnie, without a magical lifeline to this world, he feels untethered. Like even if he wanted to write, he couldn't.
As he sits down cross-legged and lights a bunch of candles in this empty clearing, he can feel the earth humming. It grows louder with each candle he lights, until he's lit up an entire circle of flickering flames. It takes him a moment longer to realize that he's not alone, either - and so he scoots to the side, giving his companion an apologetic glance.
It's a teasing jab, because Freya doesn't really sleep much, not after she spent so much of her life sleeping. She's easily roused by the pull of unfamiliar magic and is surprised when she finds Stefan in the center of it. Magic is a complicated thing, and can come up in unexpected ways, but she doesn't remember Stefan mentioning having magic when he was human.
He pauses, both at how readily he'd admitted his uncertainty and at how easily he had forgotten that he had a bonafide witch in town. His nerves must be getting to him.
"I just kept seeing this formation in my dreams," he admits, figuring he might as well own up to the whole thing. "I figured I might as well make it happen when I was awake."
She nods in acknowledgement as she steps closer, before very carefully stepping over the line of candles so that she can see what it looks like from the inside. Sigils can be very powerful things, but they can also be quite dangerous when you don't know where they're coming from.
He's half-joking, half-serious. But Stefan keeps multiple fire extinguishers in his room for Reasons now, and none of them are particularly good.
The circle was a complete one, with symbols representing life, fidelity, wisdom, and trust. Stefan's nothing if not precise: he'd copied each symbol until they were perfect replicas from old grimoires.
"I'm not sure. I'm guessing this either strengthens my powers or makes the truth clearer?" He pauses. "I didn't have powers as a human, so this is all new to me."
Freya nods in agreement as she looks everything over, before moving to sit next to him. "When I was first learning to control my magic, I caused a lot of damage that I didn't mean to. Unfortunately, setting fires can be part of the growing pains, one way or another. You seem to be going through the same."
He grimaces at the idea. “Yeah, like delayed puberty.”
Turns out, when a guy is immortalized at seventeen, his body and brain hadn’t quite finished developing – and magic only seemed to exacerbate everything. As he was learning the hard way.
More seriously, he peers over at her, “How’d you manage to get it all under control?”
It's really the simplest and most efficient solution. She caused a lot of damage when she was learning, but eventually she did learn. That's the important thing.
"They aren't wrong when they say that practice makes perfect."
So much for a magic answer. Stefan sighs, slumping his shoulders as he inadvertently extinguishes his circle of candles. In the pitch-black darkness, it's easier to hide his disgruntlement, but - well, he also can't see a damn thing.
"Damn." He reaches out towards the nearest candles and re-lights them. "There really isn't an easier way?"
She laughs, before shaking her head. "Unfortunately not. Unless you want me to bind your magic so that you can't use it at all." There is no cheat sheet for magic. Only practice, or no magic at all.
Go figure. The one time he wanted an easy solution, it wouldn't appear like magic.
"I think I'll pass," he says with a disappointed sigh, reaching out and re-lighting a few more candles, this time with slightly more finesse. "Like you said. Practice makes perfect."
"I was hoping you'd say that." She smirks a bit as she watches him, before leaning back and look at the woods with a soft sigh. "I've missed open areas like this. The world used to be so much more quiet."
He follows her gaze, only to look up at the sky and its lack of brilliant stars. Even out here in Mystic Falls, light pollution had caught up with the woods - and what had once been a glittering canopy was now a clear dark sky.
"They're still out there." Stefan grins conspiratorially as he gets the rest of the fiery circle going - and in turn, mimicking the glittering canopy of stars he had seen as a boy. "You've just gotta look a little harder."
Freya smirks a bit at that grin, watching as the lights sprung up around them. Magic is always a bit of a turn on, even if she so rarely dates actual witches, and she can't help when that smirk turns into a grin.
"Oh really? Are you going to recreate the Norwegian sky over a thousand years gone?"
"I was thinking more, Mystic Falls, a hundred and fifty years ago..." He raises his eyebrows as he settles in his circle. "But if that's what you want, that's exactly what you're gonna get."
He just has to focus on what he imagines those constellations to be, and project them up on the night sky a la some astral projection (see! He's been reading, kind of!), right? One small problem: he knows Mystic Falls better than Norway, and so even with his best attempts, the false, glittering stars and constellations resemble his home more than Freya's.
"You just... might have to describe it," he admits with a small huff.
She laughs a bit as the stars don't quite line up, before shaking her head as she looks up and leans into his shoulder. "No, this is fine. You should stick with what you know. It'll be easier to maintain the spell."
When he gets better at it, she can really try to challenge him, but until then they can just focus on the basics.
Easier, she says, as if maintaining this canvas wasn't already exhausting.
Yet her laughter's worth it, and Stefan can't quite help laughing along with her as he shifts the constellations (North Star and all) back towards what he remembers of his childhood. Some days, that seems like forever ago - and then he hears his heartbeat, and how sweaty his palms feel from a simple astral projection and the reality hits him all over again.
So he says, as if this were the easiest thing, "If you're sure."
A prouder man might’ve refused the help, but Stefan knows – and trusts – Freya’s offer with his entire heart. He doesn’t think twice about accepting her hand, and lightly intertwining his fingers in hers.
“Thanks.” He beams at her. “For being here for me.”
She nods in agreement, before offering a small smile. "It's my pleasure. It's nice to have another witch to spend time with." She hasn't had that kind of community ... ever. Even if it's just one other person, she intends to enjoy it while it lasts.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
deathlessness) wrote2017-06-25 03:31 pm
i don't need you to fix what i'd rather forget
The last thing Keelin tells Freya to do, before they part ways for good, is to take a break and go see her niece.
There's a part of her that says she shouldn't listen, that she needs to focus on reuniting her family and uniting them with Hope, but there's too much of Keelin lingering in the halls of the Mikaelson residence, too many reminders of what they had that tried and failed. (It is good memories, that much is certain. It was happy and loving, and something she hasn't had in a long time. But all good things come to an end, in that bittersweet way, and Keelin is right. Freya needs to get away.)
She calls Hayley to let her know she's coming and makes her way back to Mystic Falls for the second time, this time of her own accord. After checking in with Hayley and Hope, showering her with presents from her aunts, uncle and father, she makes her way out to investigate the local bar scene. This can't be a vampire town without a good source of alcohol.
She arrives at the Grill, slides onto a bar stool, and leans forward to flash the bartender a friendly smile. "Your best tequila sunrise, please."
She does need to start the night off right.
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Worst part is, he can't even drink anymore. The humanity he had prized so much had come with a bitter, bitter consequence: his liver can't repair itself.
So when he walks into the Grill and chooses to sit next to a familiar face, it's for an order of salty cheese fries and a soda. Once he's gotten it in, he leans forward, resting his elbows on the edge of the counter.
"Hey," he says with a grin, as if he hadn't heard about the visitor checking up on her precious niece. (Caroline had texted him the moment she'd heard, and frankly, the live updates had been both entertaining and exasperating.) "Long time no see."
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Stefan, though, certainly meets those ranks.
"Hey yourself," she says with a small smile. "I would have come by sooner, but I spent five years in a mystical coma. Made it a little hard to visit friends."
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He looks older than the last time Freya's seen him, for certain; he's taller, and his facial features have settled in, as if finally telling the world that he's growing up.
"You staying just for the night, or...?" He sounds more hopeful than he wants to let on. "Maybe a little longer than that?"
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The joke has a slight bittersweet tone to it, given the way things have ended with Keelin, but it's likely for the best. Their relationship had been important, to both of them, but Keelin needed more than a girl that was always caught up in saving her family, while Freya couldn't bear to choose a life where they truly could never be together again - where Klaus couldn't be in the same room as his daughter.
She would always love her, as much as she could have, but it's for the best that they're moving on.
"So yes, I am staying. At least for a little while. Klaus invited me to visit him in Australia at the end of the summer, but until then I have no ... definite plans."
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"Better hope he means our summer, and not an Australian winter," Stefan quips, though his smile's lost a little of its luster. "I'm sure the school is probably the last place you'd want to stay in, but we've got space if you think you'll be around a while."
He couldn't blame her if she turned him down: as much as he loved teaching the kids American history (and literature - he couldn't forget how many hours he spent grading their essays), they were quite the handful. Even though he'd lost his superhearing, he could've sworn he'd heard a few giggling about him underneath their breaths.
Still, it had given him a renewed sense of purpose. Without his brother, Stefan wasn't sure if he would've found the will to live again - and when he's with the kids, he sometimes forgets how hopeless everything had seemed in the beginning.
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Vincent would probably be horrified if he knew that she was influencing young magical minds. Then again, a place like this is probably something Vincent would love, if he didn't have his responsibilities in New Orleans with Marcel.
"But if you need to get away from the school and would like to give me the grand tour of Mystic Falls, that I believe is an offer I can accept."
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As his fries come in, he shoots her an apologetic look, as if he can't bear to part from his food -
"Let me just take this to go."
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So if he doesn't mind sitting and talking to her for a little while longer, they can both get what they want.
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“In that case, I can safely recommend everything. You can't go wrong.”
Though he will pull the waiter over, just to pay for the meal before she can.
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She sighs as she glances down at the menu, before looking back at the cheese fries again.
"Those look delicious though."
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He reaches for a fry and takes a bite. He will regret this in the morning, he can already tell, but he's gotta sell it – so he gives Freya a wide grin and motions for her to try.
“Go ahead. I can't finish this by myself.”
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"That is delicious."
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Perhaps he shouldn't sound so confident about a dish that's pretty much guaranteed to increase his risk of cardiovascular disease, but he only lives once. (As the kids say.)
"It's supposedly even better with chili, if you wanna spring for that."
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It's definitely something to consider as she weighs her food options, then she smirks slightly.
"But is the chili here as good as the chili at Rosseau's?" The tiny New Orleans bar had suffered a great deal since the loss of Sophie Devereaux in terms of food, but they did manage to find a chef who could get very, very close.
Or at least that's what she's been told. Sophie was already dead by the time Freya arrived in New Orleans.
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"No," he admits with a small laugh. "Though I'd pay to have something like this down there."
Now that, you know, he can actually enjoy the taste of food rather than pretending and going through the motions of it all.
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"Food aside, is there anything you really wanna do?"
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Chalk it up to his newfound humanity, or his desire to actually live again, but Freya's lack of experience is an opportunity to get themselves out there. See what the world has to offer.
Or at least, what Mystic Falls and the greater state of Virginia can.
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She laughs a bit at that, before shaking her head. "Well, how about ... everything between 1914 and 2014? I was asleep for a very long time."
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"In that case, we'll go with the short version." He laughs too. "Oh, what about slang? Do we need to get you up to speed on that too?"
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Some words still trip her up every now and then, but Hope knows she's surrounded by very old people and is always willing to take it step by step. At least they don't shun her for it or try to correct her language.
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(Why "ginchy" went out of use in favor of "apprehensive," he'll never know.)
"Now multiply that by nineteen, and you've got my life," he teases, finally helping himself to his soda. "Not that I particularly mind it."
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we don't need the morning
Bonnie had called his newfound magic a gift and a curse before she'd gone on her grand tour of South Africa and the Ivory Coast. Stefan was more inclined to think the latter. Romanticizing magic was a lot easier when he didn't actually have to hold it all in.
Taking one of his journals, he had ventured out to the edge of Salvatore Manor, where the property almost seems to melt with the woods behind. A grimoire is supposed to be his cookbook and his overall guide to a life he never asked for, let alone wanted - but right now, it's a bunch of jumbled, blank pages. Without Bonnie, without a magical lifeline to this world, he feels untethered. Like even if he wanted to write, he couldn't.
As he sits down cross-legged and lights a bunch of candles in this empty clearing, he can feel the earth humming. It grows louder with each candle he lights, until he's lit up an entire circle of flickering flames. It takes him a moment longer to realize that he's not alone, either - and so he scoots to the side, giving his companion an apologetic glance.
"Couldn't sleep either, huh?"
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It's a teasing jab, because Freya doesn't really sleep much, not after she spent so much of her life sleeping. She's easily roused by the pull of unfamiliar magic and is surprised when she finds Stefan in the center of it. Magic is a complicated thing, and can come up in unexpected ways, but she doesn't remember Stefan mentioning having magic when he was human.
"What are you working on?"
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He pauses, both at how readily he'd admitted his uncertainty and at how easily he had forgotten that he had a bonafide witch in town. His nerves must be getting to him.
"I just kept seeing this formation in my dreams," he admits, figuring he might as well own up to the whole thing. "I figured I might as well make it happen when I was awake."
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"Has there been anything else in the dreams?"
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He's half-joking, half-serious. But Stefan keeps multiple fire extinguishers in his room for Reasons now, and none of them are particularly good.
The circle was a complete one, with symbols representing life, fidelity, wisdom, and trust. Stefan's nothing if not precise: he'd copied each symbol until they were perfect replicas from old grimoires.
"I'm not sure. I'm guessing this either strengthens my powers or makes the truth clearer?" He pauses. "I didn't have powers as a human, so this is all new to me."
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Turns out, when a guy is immortalized at seventeen, his body and brain hadn’t quite finished developing – and magic only seemed to exacerbate everything. As he was learning the hard way.
More seriously, he peers over at her, “How’d you manage to get it all under control?”
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It's really the simplest and most efficient solution. She caused a lot of damage when she was learning, but eventually she did learn. That's the important thing.
"They aren't wrong when they say that practice makes perfect."
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"Damn." He reaches out towards the nearest candles and re-lights them. "There really isn't an easier way?"
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"I think I'll pass," he says with a disappointed sigh, reaching out and re-lighting a few more candles, this time with slightly more finesse. "Like you said. Practice makes perfect."
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"They're still out there." Stefan grins conspiratorially as he gets the rest of the fiery circle going - and in turn, mimicking the glittering canopy of stars he had seen as a boy. "You've just gotta look a little harder."
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"Oh really? Are you going to recreate the Norwegian sky over a thousand years gone?"
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He just has to focus on what he imagines those constellations to be, and project them up on the night sky a la some astral projection (see! He's been reading, kind of!), right? One small problem: he knows Mystic Falls better than Norway, and so even with his best attempts, the false, glittering stars and constellations resemble his home more than Freya's.
"You just... might have to describe it," he admits with a small huff.
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When he gets better at it, she can really try to challenge him, but until then they can just focus on the basics.
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Yet her laughter's worth it, and Stefan can't quite help laughing along with her as he shifts the constellations (North Star and all) back towards what he remembers of his childhood. Some days, that seems like forever ago - and then he hears his heartbeat, and how sweaty his palms feel from a simple astral projection and the reality hits him all over again.
So he says, as if this were the easiest thing, "If you're sure."
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Whatever makes maintaining the spell easier for him. She knows what he's attempting is quite difficult, so every little bit helps.
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“Thanks.” He beams at her. “For being here for me.”
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