gonna hold you,
gonna kiss you in my arms
gonna take you
away from harm
『klaus mikaelson x femaleoc』
tvd/to universe
cover by @hyvnology
CURRENTLY REWRITTEN
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chapter seven,is your blood same as mine?
"TOO MUCH TIME has passed, Ophelia. Our father has died," Stefan announced.
The painting of Michelangelo didn't interest her anymore. The hybrid, waiting for Damon to bring him the witch, didn't matter anymore. The voice in her head, announcing her death and the return of her nightmares, was like a fog. Ophelia made a mistake asking about their father, asking a silly question 'where is he' when she knew how much time had passed.
The calm expression on her face, which reminded them all of a muse of a painter, shattered. Quickly blinking, her eyes filled with tears. Was it guilt or joy? Ophelia remembered those nights when she selfishly wished their father would never wake up again and never see the morning sun. What a horrible person she was, she knew that. But that's what bruises do to you—you can cover them up, but they stay within you. They hurt even if they are not visible to you. She remembers each and every one of her bruises.
And the tear that rolled down her cheek from her left eye, reminded them of a statue in the middle of the rain. There was a mythical essence surrounding her. There was the reminder of the older days around her – of the silence of women who couldn't speak, who couldn't scream. The silence of a broken soul that didn't know what it was to be joyful.
Only Stefan didn't tell her how Giuseppe Salvatore died. He didn't tell her that he was the one that ripped his throat apart. There was already so much pain around them and he didn't want to portray himself as a killer. For just this moment. She will figure out everything herself.
As the tear touched the corner of her lips, it started to rise into a small smile. Her eyes gazed down, full of tears and hurt. Opening her mouth, she gasped out and let out a sound—not a sigh, not a wail. A laugh.
It felt good to laugh. And she didn't stop herself. Her laughter sounded unreal, it was too high-pitched—has Stefan ever heard how she laughed truthfully? She placed her hand on her chest as she kept on laughing, the little tears falling down on the dusty, unloved wood beneath their feet.
Ophelia sniffled, covering her face with the palm of her hand. Everyone in the room was watching her and she felt insane. To laugh when she heard that her father is gone? She wasn't a good person, but that wasn't a surprise for her. And she didn't really care what others are thinking of her.
"Ophelia, I..." Stefan tried to calm her down. But there was no need for that. She quickly straightened her back, pushing the back of her head against the wall, revealing them her glossy eyes and slightly flushed cheeks. A half smile quickly faded into the calm expression of hers. "Are you alright?"
