"I would burn the world to the ground for you and it still wouldn't be enough."
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐂𝐘𝐂𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 things you cannot have is what Kalliope knew incredibly well. Spending years trapped within her naturally timid...
Chapter Twenty-Six | Deep Spells and Frankincense Smells
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FLORENCE COULD HEAR THE CRICKETS CHIRPING OUTSIDE as she lay facing the motel door. The thin scratchy sheet settled over her hip. Otherwise, she was left exposed to the chill of the overhead fan as it circled in a repetitive motion. The half-full moon shone in through the front window, barely blocked by the broken blinds. In two days' time, there would be a full moon, and Flore knew that meant a world of terrible things. Klaus would become more determined than if it were any other night to find his four-legged beast. He would antagonize Stefan, and Florence would stop at nothing to interfere with his rampage. It was now a common cycle, just like the moon.
Stefan lay in the same bed beside her on his back. Or at least, he liked Florence to think he was sleeping. She supposed they were both fooling each other. They had travelled again and were somewhere along the state line of Tennessee. They were out of double beds at the motel and Klaus didn't give a damn one way or another. Flore swore they were adults. They could share a bed without any awkwardness or tension.
But after she argued with Stefan the other day, and the strange atmosphere settled over them, she was not too sure. There was a time when she may have admired Stefan and his gentleness. She had not known much gentleness in men. Now, whatever those lingering feelings were, if they ever were, have since been entombed. She has and would forever view Stefan Salvatore as one of her best friends, a brother she never had.
So, when she came out of the bathroom with steam rising off her shoulders, hair damp from washing, and Stefan tried to busy himself with pointless, miscellaneous tasks, her suspicions grew.
In theory, it made sense. They were both experiencing this trauma together, and it bonded them. Florence had never been closer to or with Stefan before. Whereas before in eighteen sixty-four, she laughed with him and prepped meals with him. But now, Stefan had a little taste of what she had been running from when they first met. She knew when Stefan was upset. The sound of discontent he made when the attention suddenly shifted to him. Flore even knew what he clung to most when he broke down. All of these things felt maternal, familial, anything but romantic. Maybe she was jumping to conclusions, but these were the thoughts that kept sleep at bay this night.
The springy mattress shifted as Stefan got up.
Florence anticipated it. He needed his alone time.
Her eyes fluttered closed when he passed by her and out the door, but not for sleep. Florence attuned her mind to think of Elijah. Her face softened, eyebrows scrunched as she pictured his handsome face. His cleft chin and arched eyebrows. The dark, molten shade of his eyes. The clean shave of his jaw and the delicate curve of his cupid's bow.
