deathlessness | entranceway } { ic inbox

( elena has already shifted toward freya, ready to meet her as their eyes lock.

she and freya both know that there are no simple or comforting answers. their world is a harsh and unforgiving one. it makes monsters out of victims, ghosts out of maidens. elena has wounded and been wounded more times than she can count. it won't change.

she retains hope and optimism, but deep down where a subconscious darkness dwells, elena knows it's a jungle, and only the strongest survive. )

What I'm about to say won't ease your worries, but it's part of why I asked you to meet me here.

( already there is an apology on her tongue, because she'd love to say this is as bad as it will get, but that wouldn't be true. )

[Of course it's not as bad as it will get. Nothing ever gets easier at home, it always manages to find a way to get worse.

But that doesn't mean she's ever shied away from bad news.]

If you're going to ask me to stop ...

[She's not going to do that. She can't. She can't stop Klaus, not with this, and more to the point she doesn't want to. Whatever version of herself this is, she's far too dangerous to be allowed to continue.]

( elena shakes her head.

she doesn't advocate violence. she isn't necessarily a violent person herself, but she is aware the mirrors need to be stopped. )

No, it's not that.

( she sucks in a quiet, almost shaky breath. nothing has rattled her the way freya's mirror did, and that's saying something, considering elena's life experiences. ) The other day, Chloe was trying to understand ... everything. About me, about why my blood was so important. She asked me if I knew why your mirror would want it, and somewhere deep inside of me it felt like I did. Like I knew and she told me.

( she shakes her head again, unsure of whether or not she's making any sense. ) But whenever I tried to reach it, all I could hear was this lullaby she kept singing to me before — ( well. before. it's haunted her long enough that elena would be able to sing it. ) And I couldn't speak. Chloe thought it was a panic attack, and maybe it felt that way, but all I know is I couldn't say anything. It felt like someone was choking my windpipe.

Edited 2017-06-15 19:28 (UTC)

She did tell you. She told you right before she killed you. I couldn't hear it through the mirror, but I could see it.

[While Elena will dance around the word, Freya needs to say it, so that she remembers why this was terrible and why she needed to be stopped. Her gaze has gone from concern to an almost clinical kind of confusion, and she frowns before she starts to reach forward.]

May I?

( elena swallows, barely stopping a flinch. it's easy to forget, sometimes, that coming back doesn't make it any less of a death. and perhaps it's freya's calm and almost detached demeanor, which elena realizes is a necessity, that lets her nod her permission. she nods, despite the slight tremble that courses through her.

she's not sure what freya will be looking, only hopes that she finds it. )

[She closes her eyes as her hands come to rest very gently against one on her shoulder and the other cupping the side of her face gently. She tries to focus, not necessarily forcing her magic to find the offending spell in question, but merely inquiring as though to find it.]

The lullaby she sang was something that Dahlia used to sing to us as a child, as a means of trying to calm us when our power ... was beyond our control. It's possible that my mirror might have woven a spell into it to hide her true motives.

( well that just makes it creepier, taking into consideration what she does know about dahlia.

elena's lashes flutter, eyes opening to search freya's expression. her own is mired with worry, and maybe a little anxiety. ) If it's a spell, do you think that means you can undo it? ( freya's magic operates much in the same way, doesn't it? )

[Weeeeeeeeeeell it both does and doesn't. She pauses for a moment, when she finally finds the tendrils of the spell resting in Elena's memory and she pulls back with a frown.]

I can certainly try. But if my theory is correct, she is still bound to Dahlia. Which means she is stronger than me and her magic is more stable than mine.

[There were some pros and cons to being bound to Dahlia, but a lot of the cons outweighed the pros by a mile.]

I can attempt to brute force it, but I worry that that will erase the memory entirely, and that won't help us. But I can work on it, and see if there's a sneaky way around it.

( elena considers the theory for a split second, and decides that she is inclined to believe it, as well. as short as her interaction was with the mirror, she behaved more like what dahlia has been described to be than freya herself.

a shiver threatens to run down her spine, but elena nods again in conviction. )

I'll help however I can. ( she may not be able to do much, but if there's something, she'd want to do it. )

[Freya nods in agreement with a small smile, before reaching down to give her hands a squeeze.]

For right now, though, try not to worry too much. If she needs that much blood, it's likely a rather large spell she's working on. We have time.

[Meaning don't stress yourself into another panic attack, Elena.]

Just do not tell my brother I said that, because he will vehemently disagree.

( freya's practicality has often been a source of comfort to elena, and this time is no different.

so elena chooses to believe her: it makes sense, and they have time.

she finally manages to return a smile, giving freya's hands a light squeeze in return. )

Your secret is safe with me. I'd rather we take our time to prepare instead of letting our emotions rule on this one. ( it's how people tend to get sloppy. )

You and I both.

[She nods, before taking a deep breath.]

I am sorry, Elena. That I couldn't do more to help you.

( elena mimics freya's earlier gesture. she is the one who takes freya's hands in her own. perhaps for some this alone would seem an abomination, mikaelson and petrova, linked together by a harrowing experience neither orchestrated. )

I know I can tell you that you have nothing to be sorry for, and it won't make a difference.

( it didn't for her, after all, when people would insist her parents' death was not her fault. )

So I do. I forgive you. But promise me you'll try to forgive yourself.

[She nods slowly, but she can't really make any promises there. Forgiveness is not something that comes easily to any Mikaelson, especially when the person they're forgiving is themselves.]

I'll work on it.

[But again, no promises.]

entranceway } { ic inbox

somewhere lives the preposterous idea that i forgive myself.

somewhere lives the preposterous idea that i forgive myself.

somewhere lives the preposterous idea that i forgive myself.

somewhere lives the preposterous idea that i forgive myself.

somewhere lives the preposterous idea that i forgive myself.

somewhere lives the preposterous idea that i forgive myself.

somewhere lives the preposterous idea that i forgive myself.

somewhere lives the preposterous idea that i forgive myself.

somewhere lives the preposterous idea that i forgive myself.

somewhere lives the preposterous idea that i forgive myself.

somewhere lives the preposterous idea that i forgive myself.

somewhere lives the preposterous idea that i forgive myself.

somewhere lives the preposterous idea that i forgive myself.

somewhere lives the preposterous idea that i forgive myself.