"Aberration- a departure from what is normal, usual, or expected, typically an unwelcome one."
Aberration is the perfect word to describe Florian Ahlborn.
Tomorrow was the last day of summer break and the day before school starts back up, Florian was already dreading starting a new school. Over the summer he and his parents moved to Mystic Falls, buying a large cabin in the woods, a place that's easy to grow all sorts of magic herbs and plants without questions from nosy neighbours.
The reason for their moving was to get away from a coven trying to kill him, and his parents decided they'd take him away from the place where he had to use the cursed magic he somehow has access to.
Durning the break and move, Florian spent every waking moment trying to find out more about whatever magic he used, what langue the spells he spoke were, and how to call upon the power whenever he wants. He figured out he couldn't always access whatever power he drew upon, only in life and death situations or where his emotions took control over his thoughts did the power come forth.
Before they moved, he used purposefully go out and antagonise witches in hope of getting into a witch fight, a recorder in his pocket to record the unknown language as he did so. And every time he fought with another witch, when they overpowered him like most witches can, the power came forth to tear them down. But after he killed those witches, the recording would be corrupted, filled with static instead of whatever language he spoke.
During his summer of constant studying and failure he did learn a few things, mostly in the darker arts; dark magic, sacrificial magic, and death magic. And in brief moments he worked on a spell he's had in mind since he was eight, only recently being competent enough to actually attempt writing it.
Luckily for him his parents were focused on settling in their new town, his father having to find a new place to train and his mother communing with the only witch in Mystic Falls. Shiela Bennett.
He wasn't all that interested with talking to some old witch who - according to his mother - is rather strict and judgmental with what magic is "supposed" to be, and how it's "supposed" to be practiced. The most frustrating thing about the old woman was that she started to influence his mother. She stopped her teachings on darker magic, going as far as to stop using that type of magic over all. "Old hag" he deemed her in his mind. (I love Sheila, but his dislike towards her has a purpose for the story in the future)
Currently the boy is sat at the Mystic Grill, the only place one can really sit down for a drink or have something remotely edible. It wasn't really up to his standards, but he made do. A glass of bourbon that he charmed his way into getting sits on the sticky table, and resting on his lap is a small grimoire on plant magic, mostly reading over the plants that have a connection to immortality and preservation.
"Umm, hey." An awkward sounding voice breaks him away from his reading, glancing up to see an uncomfortable looking red head. "My friends dared me to come and flirt with you missing the fact that your obviously gay." She sits down on the other side of the table, picking up the bourbon and taking a sip. "Also ignoring the fact I am too." He hears her murmur to herself.
"Help yourself." He sarcastically gestures to the glass she's holding, raising a dark brow at the unbothered red head.
"Thanks." She grins at him, taking another sip, not at all bothered by the small glare he sends her way. "So, where the hell did you come from?" She asks, placing the glass back down on the table and nudging it over to him.
"How long do you intend on staying here?" He asks, drinking the small amount of bourbon left. "Because I was reading." He lifts up the grimoire, gesturing to the page all about the herb coriander and it's associations with immortality. The girl raises a confused brow at his choice of reading material, quickly trying to read as much as possible, only getting a few seconds before it snaps shut.
"Coriander is related to immortality?" She asks, leaning her elbows up against the table, pulling back with a grimace once she realises its sticky.
"Your friends left." He nods his head over to the table where there used to be giggling girls, evading her question. "That means you can leave too." He tells her, raising his brows in silent question when she doesn't make a move to leave, actually, she leans back into her seat, getting comfortable.
"You're mean. We'll get along great." She grins, gesturing for one of the busboys to come over to their table. "We'll have a bottle of bourbon." She orders, looking directly into their eyes.
"You're a vampire." Florian realises, leaning back into his own seat. "Subtle." He gestures to her small lapis earrings, irritated that he didn't notice sooner.
"And you're a witch..." She trails off as the boy comes back with the bottle she ordered. "...not so subtle." She chuckles, looking at his clothes and bag stuffed with, what she presumes are grimoires.
"I don't really care for subtlety." He shrugs, taking the bottle before she makes a move for it, taking a large swig before placing it back down. "And I just have good fashion taste." He tells her, gesturing to his clothes.
He's wearing a loose green V-neck drawstring shirt, dark brown tunic pants held up with a dark brown leather belt, and a pair of beige brown shoes. And hanging from his neck is the same pentagram necklace held by a brown cord that he always has on.
"No, your clothes look like they belong in ancient times." She disagrees, picking up the bottle and taking a larger gulp out of it than he did. "Now I have good fashion taste." She gestures to her own clothes, grinning as she keeps a hold of the bottle.
She's wearing a black crop top, a bright red leather jacket, the same red leather in the form of skin tight pants, and a pair of black heels. From her neck hangs a small ruby necklace, and she wears light eyeliner with a blood-red lipgloss.
"And you look like you belong in a whore house." He sweetly smiles, it only growing when she grins at his comment.
"Thanks grandpa."
"How old are you anyway? Aren't you a little old to be dressed like that?"
"Uh-huh, give me your phone." She holds out a hand, pulling away when he places the rectangular object in her hand. She has to put the bottle back down the type her number into it, giving him the opportunity to take it for himself, drinking more than she did.
"Here you go grandpa." She hands his phone back to him, taking the bottle as she does so, drinking more than he did. A silent challenge passing between them.
"I'm Rubi by the way." The red head pulls away from a dark haired girls neck, blood smeared down her neck. The girl and Florian in the woods, both extremely drunk.
"Florian." He gives her his name, carving some symbols into the three body's she's drained of blood. Smiling when the skin around the symbol burns.
(AN: Madelaine Petsch as Rubi)
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