[Blood Diary Entry – Rebekah Mikaelson]
Isolde and I watched as Darian walked away, his hands in his pockets.
I saw how unsettled his mother was, and I could somewhat understand her.
He is her child, though he doesn't behave like it. Most kids his age would be running around their parents with a toy in their hands, while he… well, he has faced things that would give any adult nightmares for the rest of their lives.
I can't deny that I was a little disappointed as well. I was looking forward to spending time with the two of them. It's just more peaceful when he is around.
But I've noticed through the vow, how unsettled he truly is. Even if I didn't have that, it is also quite obvious, as he has been absent-minded and overall quiet for the last few days.
Whatever happened after he stabbed that ghost is still bugging him.
The worst part is that I can't help him.
I tapped Isolde on her shoulder and signaled with my head for us to go our way.
Darian can handle himself.
"So, what is this business you have to take care of?" Isolde asked.
"I want to visit a coven of witches nearby, and after that I'll take care of some… personal stuff."
Isolde looked at me weirdly for a split second, but she nodded anyway. "What are we going to the coven for?"
"I want a way to mask you and Darian."
"Huh? What for?"
"While we haven't really encountered any real danger yet, the keyword lies in 'yet'—and even if we don't, it's a pain to deal with so many of those disgusting cannibals."
Isolde looked at me with a dry look.
"What?"
"That is rich coming from someone who needs to drink blood to stay functional."
I recoiled at the words.
Her eyes widened, and she spoke up in a hurry. "I didn't mean it like that, you kno-"
"I know… But it's not like I enjoy it… The first few times were hell, you know? I can't remember how many times I threw up before I got 'accustomed' to it."
"And how did you do it?" She questioned in a mute tone.
"Do what?" I asked, puzzled.
"How did you get used to it?"
"The power to 'shut off' emotions is quite handy," I said as I made quotation marks in the air.
"Why that gesture?"
"Because it's a straight-up lie. We don't truly shut off our emotions; we merely delay them. And it is often worse to do so."
"How so?"
I paused, halting my steps, trying to come up with a fitting answer. "Well, think of it like a pressure pot; the more you hold it in, the more explosive it becomes.
Hold it in for too long and you 'rot' on the inside. You become an unfeeling monster that would never flip the switch back on. These kinds were the reason why our species is so hated.
And if we do flip the switch back on… Well, everything we were kept from feeling comes back all at once. It's overwhelming; some get downright mad after this; others go into depression for decades." I moved after I gave my answer.
"Did you experience this?"
"Hah! I was among the first in our family to deal with it, and I also took it the worst. If you don't consider my brother Finn, who straight up abominates what we have become."
"How did you get through it?"
"Hard to say really… There are so many reasons for it that I would talk for days on end, but it all boils down to a single word—at least to me that is—and that is 'family'." I was amused as I saw her expression. "It's really complex but utterly simple as well."
"…"
"One thing I have learned over the millennia I have been alive is that people tend to overcomplicate the simplest of things. And so the easiest and most straightforward answer, which is usually the right one, gets buried in a mountain of insecurity.
The funny part is that even knowing this, I can't help but make the same mistakes. And somehow that is what assures me deep down I am still a little human."
"But I thought you liked being a vampire?"
"I do and I don't…"
"You mean?"
"I have come to enjoy the power and freedom that comes with it, but it took away a lot of me. Some of my deepest wishes are now impossible to achieve. All of this," I said as I pointed to my fangs and my other vampiric traits, "took the innocence and purity out of my family. We were denied normalcy. Much like what is happening to Darian."
Isolde's shoulders trembled.
"He goofs and acts like an old man, but I can see he is unsettled by everything, really. I might also have a part in it. His rash action in binding us has made our relationship entirely confusing."
Isolde looked at me with a raised brow.
"When I approached the two of you out of curiosity, I could see myself getting attached to him, but only as an aunt or older sister.
But now?
Now it's confusing…
I can't say I see him as a man, purely because he isn't one. Not yet.
But the thought of spending time, let alone being touched by any other man that isn't him, makes me want to retch in disgust.
Can't say exactly how I feel about him… As there are too many things clouding my mind, part of the reason why I really wanted to come to Chicago is to clear a bit of it."
"I understand."
"You do?" I asked with surprise evident in my voice.
"Not at all," she shook her head.
"?"
"But as long as you don't do anything inappropriate, I won't get in the way." She spoke. "For better or worse, you are now a permanent part of my son's life."
I smiled.
But as we finished our chat, we reached our destination.
An old building, the paint all but gone. Yet still oddly elegant in its own weird way.
We made our way inside.
In the entrance, we saw a man and a woman arguing.
The woman's scent was of herbs and blood, a characteristic witch smell I've come to understand over the years.
The man, though…
He smelled of death.
The death of hundreds of beings. And only a minority of them were human…
A hunter; my nose wrinkled at the thought.
A very experienced hunter.