𝖉𝖊 𝕮𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖙

𝑶𝑵𝑬

𝓞𝓵𝓭 𝓯𝓪𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓱 𝓶𝓾𝓼𝓲𝓬 𝓹𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝓔𝓭𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓲𝓪𝓷 𝓛𝓸𝓷𝓭𝓸𝓷 𝓯𝓵𝓪𝓽, 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓱𝓸𝓷𝓮𝔂 𝓫𝓮𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓼𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓸𝓷 𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓶 𝓽𝓸𝓪𝓼𝓽. A woman lounged in an armchair, a leg crossed over the other, a book on her lap - Pride and Prejudice, one of her favourite novels, not only because she loved the story, but it was a gift from her dearest brother, Matthew. A glass of red wine sat on the small hand table on her left. She inhaled deeply, smiling at the smell of old parchment and soot. The fire spited and cracked, breaking its way through the logs of wood. The amber fires casted their warmth on her pale, naked legs, caressing her cold skin. The ancient house consisted of every old item imaginable, not a single trace of the modern world held a place inside - except for the pluming and water pipes in the walls, the gas stove, and a fridge in the kitchen. And a old telephone from the twentieth century which sat in the hall. 

She was completely and totally cut off from the modern world, - mostly, which was how she preferred it. Alike her mother, she liked to remain where she was most comfortable. She was detached from all forms of being contacted in the ways many of the world had became reliant on. It enraged her brothers greatly - more so Baldwin, than Matthew, because it made life difficult when someone wanted to reach her. A sharp, double ring of the ancient telephone made her head lift itself, her eyes narrowed slightly. Placing her novel to the side, she lifted herself to her feet, allowing them to carry her body to the phone. She wondered who it could be ringing her. Perhaps it was one of her brothers or sisters, she doubted it could have been either of her nephews - other than Marcus, but even he rarely ever rang her up. He'd simply appear on her doorstep. She twirled her fingers slightly, as she stood over the telephone, flexing her joints before picking up the receiver.

"Hello?" A frown crowned her round features, furrowing her brows "How precisely did you get a hold of this number, Damon? You want me to what? Join you for dinner?" She narrowed her eyes, arching her head, there was more to that request "Why?" she sighed defeatedly at the reply he gave her "I shall think on it, petit corbeau."

𝐝𝐞 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭

"Because, you know, although Elena and I have this deal. I'll kill you and I'll kill everyone in this house. Are we clear?" Elijah Mikaelson questioned the young vampire in front of him, a pointed frown on his face, his eyes cutting through Damon's icy blue ones with a dark and warning glint.

"Cryrstal." Damon smiled, tight lipped, eyes sharp with disdain. Elijah smiled, eyes catching sight of Jenna, he greeted her kindly, walking towards. The Salvatore vampire sneered, observing them, moving his feet to join them. However there was a knock at the door. Elijah turned, as Jenna casted her puzzled frown at the inky haired male. They weren't expecting anymore guests tonight. The original narrowed his eyes, watching as a smile graced Damon's lips. The vampire spun around and opened the front door, to reveal a tall, beautiful woman. She had pale fair skin and blood red hair, which was twisted into a French plait. She regarded Damon with a stern expression, stepping into the house carefully.

"Anne," Damon beamed, reminding himself to be on to polite, knowing how bad tempered and old-fashioned the redhead was "I'm glad you decided to come."

Anne racked her eyes over him with a judgmental gaze, letting out a low hum "What dastardly scheme of yours, are you playing at, petit corbeau?"

Damon let out a dramatic gasp, placing a wounded hand on his chest, his icy eyes broadening "I would never, involve you any such thing, mademoiselle." He pouted, bowing his head "You're too bad minded Anne, dear."

Anne narrowed her eyes, letting out a low, unconvinced hum, letting out crudely "Age does that to you, monsieur."

"Oh, Anne." Damon chucked, offering her his arm, which she took. He led her into the dinning room past a confused Elijah and Jenna, who shared a curious glance. Elijah noted there was something odd about this Anne individual. First, it was very surprising - to everyone - how respectful Damon was being, pulling out her chair for her, and offering her the finest wine. Second, it was the way Anne held herself, calculated and stoic, with grace. In a manner the original hadn't seen for centuries. Thirdly, he assumed she was a vampire, since her heart hardly beated, nor did she breath that much either. However, what really drew him in was her eyes - so ancient and old, dull yet bright at the same time. 

"I hate to break it to you, Damon, but according to Elijah, your family is not a founding member of this town.'' Jenna mentioned excitedly, pouring herself another glass of wine. Anne side-eyed the interaction, cutting into her meat before placing it in her mouth. A grimace flashed past her face, as the meat touched her tongue - lamb. She detested lamb.

"Do tell." Damon encouraged, meeting Anne's eye. Elijah observed curiously, as she covered her mouth with a napkin, side-eyeing the inky haired Salvatore with pointed look. Anne's eyes shifted on to the original when he spoke, "Well, as I mentioned to Jenna earlier, a fraction of settlers migrated from Salem after the witch trials in the 1690s." Anne averted her gaze to her plate, grasping her glass of wine - she hated witches. With a burning passion. "Over the next hundred years they developed this community where they could feel safe from persecution. ''

Anne chuckled bitterly at that comment. Elijah narrowed his eyes, casting a wonderous gaze on the redhead as the Salvatore's compelled girlfriend spoke up, stating how there was tangible proof of witches ever settling in the town. He sensed a deep, endless hatred within the mysterious Anne, the sharpness of her eyes became like knives as they discussed the topic of witches. Damon smirked "Andie's a journalist. Big on facts."

"Well, lore says that there was this wave of anti-witch hysteria." Elijah spared a glance at Anne, who caught his eye, she sent him a dark warning look - he raised his brows "It broke out in the neighboring settlement, so these witches were rounded up. They were tied to stakes in a field and, uh, burned. Some say you could hear the screams from miles around us. As they were consumed by the fire."

"I won't repeat this to the historical society.'' Jenna let out, with a small grin.

Anne chuckled at that "Sadly the victor writes the story, and the true story - some times, or well, the full story is lost." She met Damon's eye, raising her brows, "Alas, many things seem lost, these days, don't you agree Damon?"

The Salvatore nodded, a sad smile on his face "Yes, all the joy and the more...forfilling things seem to have slithered away."

Anne humed, casting her gaze over the quiet faces. Damon was up to something, and she wanted no part in it.

𝐝𝐞 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭

"Really, Anne?" Damon pleaded, with wide eyes, trailing behind the redhead.

"I wish to have no part in whatever it your planning, Damon." She declared, making him huff. She froze and whipped around, catching the wrist which would have took her own, she spared an icy look at his hand. She pulled him forward, spinning around before rapping her arm around his neck.

"Anne." He choked, clutching on to her arm "Please."

She growled lowly, a glare on her perfect features "I'm centuries older than you, Damon. I have the ways and means to make your life a living hell. Do I make myself clear?"

"U-huh." He choked, groaning when she threw him to the floor before she disappeared from his sight. He scrowled, growling. She was supposed to be his back up against the original he'd invited to dinner, and yet she refused to entertain him. He was aware that he owed her a great deal, but he had hoped that she would have done this small favour to him. He huffed, picking himself off the floor and dusted himself off, before joining the rest of his guest, not noticing the curious gaze of Elijah - who had hoped to converse with the mysterious red haired vampire.