Dark Side. | D. SALVATORE.

Chapter 43: The Magician, the High Priestess, and the Reversed Five of Cups.

A/N: So, this was supposed to be 10k ish words, and include another flashback and more from the plot, but my computer did a system's update while I stepped away for a moment and didn't auto-save any of what I'd written for this chapter and the next. 

I thought it would be very unfair to make you wait another month when it was my mistake, so I'm posting this. I know it's sort of another filler chapter, which you guys don't seem to like very much (a lot of you just nope'd out of last chapter, woops) but I will try to stick to schedule and bring you the chapters surrounding the Dinner Party sooner rather than later.

Let me know what you guys think about this one. 

Again, thanks so much for your support, and thank you for understanding.

~~~

Dark Side. 

Chapter 43: The Magician, the High Priestess, and the Reversed Five of Cups.

"You know, love doesn't mean 'I never want you to change'. But I don't think it means 'I don't care if you change' either. So I suppose it might mean, 'I believe that you'll always be the person I adore'. A declaration of faith, perhaps."

—Bloom Into You. Sayaka Saeki.

There might come a day when the weight of what Tyler did, of what happened within the four walls of that rusty white-trash trailer, creeps in too close for Caroline to ignore. Cassandra said it while praying it wouldn't.

When it does, however, she's not surprised. Praying never gets her very far. Action is much more effective.

It's not in the way she imagines Caroline expected it to happen. It is not rage in the way it is with Bonnie. Not grief in the way it is with Elena. Nor is it the unravelling that's come to be expected from Damon.

It is a quiet rumbling under her skin, like the quiet before an earthquake. It is a pit in her stomach that won't go away. Finding every little thing irritating. Utter calmness in the face of probable Armageddon, and the world ending at the smallest inconvenience.

Like now, when Mr Giles failed her and Caroline's body is experiencing more pressure than the deepest point in the Mariana trench over it.

"That's only like twenty percent of your grade, you'll be fine." Cassandra reminds the blonde, glancing over the algebra test that's been shoved in her face.

Caroline collapses onto the booth bench, slamming her notebook and textbook on the table and swinging her golden bag onto it for good measure. Damon pulls his glass away from the bag's proximity with a distasteful furrow of his mouth. The exam in question ends atop the notebook, a myriad of big Xs and question marks that culminate in an F at the top of the paper.

"I've never failed anything in my life, Cass!" Caroline moans in a staccato whine. "I mean, what if this goes on my record and affects my college applications?"

"Right. As if you won't get a perfect SAT score."

In front of them, Damon mutters something about being too old for teen drama. Cassandra ignores it.

"They look at grades, too," insists Caroline with a tone that screams duh! "I am not letting algebra be the reason I don't go to college!"

She shakes her curls off her face, spreads both hands out like she can grasp that F and hide it from the admissions office of whatever college is her first choice. It's a little amusing, even if Caroline is two breaths away from exploding. Maybe Cassandra could get her a stress ball. Pretty and cute, maybe sloth-shaped so the suggestion to take it a little slow is ingrained into the stress ball itself.