The hidden Salvatore, she called herself. A secret she had so carefully kept over the centuries.
She enjoyed being kept a mystery. Enjoyed the hunt and the looks on people's faces when they realized her true identity.
Decade after decade she built...
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"She dances with the devil."
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I silently snuck glances from the small sofa I sat on as I watched Klaus paint. My book lay across my lap as my mind flickered between the two.
Klaus was oddly fascinating as he painted. Utterly consumed with a world of color. A world he was creating. I knew the feeling so well and yet I'd never actually seen it happen before my eyes. It was almost surreal.
I missed the feeling so very much. And yet the thought of painting again made me want to cry my eyes out or scream in rage.
Art used to be my life. Not just sketches and paint, but music. All of it used to make my heart sing with joy when I was human...
My art as a vampire was...lifeless. Every time I stroked a brush across a canvas, or pressed a key on the piano, the only thoughts that rang through my mind were about being human. How much I used to miss it. How much it broke me to not be able to feel the art the way I used to. The memories of my mother sending me away, my father being the monster he was. It all comes rushing back.
After a while, I just gave up. The pain just got worse over the years. It felt like I was breaking all over again when I thought about it. I didn't think I'd even tried to paint in...a century and a half, maybe.
I didn't miss being human. I was better off as a vampire. But I wished that part of myself was sill there.
If not facing those demons makes me a coward, then fine. I'm a coward.
I snuck another glance up as Klaus drew his red-dipped paintbrush across the canvas. Steady, heeled footsteps sounded from behind the corner as Rebekah entered the room.
"What took you so long?" Klaus questioned, dipping his brush into another glob of color.
"Alaric didn't want to hand over the stake. Luckily I'm quite the charmer." Rebekah spoke, reaching into her coat pocket and pulling out the stake with a small smirk. She descended the small set of steps into the room.
Klaus set down his brush with a triumphant smile as he turned toward his sister. "That's it?" he asked.
"The last of the white oak stakes that can kill us." she said, "Do you want to do the honors or shall I?"
Klaus grinned, quickly taking the stake from Rebekah. He walked across the room, tossing it into the fireplace without hesitation. The three of us watched as it burned. We all blew out a of a breath of relief.
Klaus turned away, rolling up his sleeves as he revealed his toned arms and—Nope. Shutting that thought down. He picked up his paintbrush again, ignoring everything else around him.
