white flag | hope mikaelson

chapter eleven

age 16&17 (a few days later)

Lilah stands on her side of the room, her face pinched into a gloomy expression. Her eyes study the Mikaelson girl as she packs away her things into her dresser, the thick tension in the room doing nothing to deter the tribid.

"You're staring," Hope points out, not turning around.

"I'm manifesting something," Lilah snarks, turning away from the girl and facing her unorganized furniture.

"What's that?" Hope wonders.

"You getting out of my room," the blonde grumbles.

"Our room," Hope reminds her.

"I bet this works out perfectly for you," Lilah snaps.

Hope spins on her heel, a small grin gracing her lips. "Why? Because I follow you around like a puppy, won't leave you alone like— ever, and because I'm practically obsessed with—"

A small giggle escapes Lilah without her permission, the blonde frowning and wrapping her arms around herself as she sits down on her bed. "It's not funny," she grunts. "I was perfectly fine rooming by myself."

"Dr. Saltzman thought otherwise," Hope informs her.

"Dr. Saltzman does a lot things without thinking them through," Lilah snides.

Hope heaves a sigh, shuffling closer to Lilah's bed and sitting next to the girl. "I know you're upset with—"

"I'm not upset with you," Lilah cuts her off, meeting the tribid's gaze without wavering.

Hope gives her a look and Lilah shrugs. "I'm not," she emphasizes.

Hope blinks, "you're hurt."

Lilah adverts her eyes.

"Lilah, I said I was sorry," Hope says.

"Did you mean it?" The girl questions softly.

"Of course I did," Hope scoffs. "Why would I say something I don't mean?"

Lilah lifts her eyes, "we've spent years saying things we don't mean. Or at least I did."

The Mikaelson's eyes widen, realization dawning on her. "Right," she breathes. "We did, didn't we?"

"You can—" Lilah swallows thickly, ducking her head. "You can stay."

"Well yeah," Hope says in a duh tone. "It's not really up to you."

Lilah sends Hope a blank stare, "you're not really helping the development."

"Oh," Hope hums, nodding. "Right, sorry about that. How horrible of me."

"Absolutely terrible," Lilah agrees.

The two girls share a small smile, their attention drawing toward the door when Ric wraps his knuckles against the frame. "Girls," he greets, holding a small flower pot with a single sunflower in it in his hands. "You left this in your old room, Hope."

The Mikaelson rushes to grab it from his hands, her cheeks flushing a deep color. Ric sends his daughter a knowing smile before strolling out of the room, leaving the two girls in a tense silence.

"Is that—"

"Yes," Hope snaps defensively. Her hands grip the flower pot, her grip tightening. "Yes, it is."

Lilah looks up at the girl, her eyes shining. "I thought you said you didn't want it."

Hope moves toward her desk and softly sets the flower pot down, a nervous look gracing her face. "We've said a lot of things we didn't mean, remember?"

A shy smile plasters itself across Lilah's face. "You're all right, Mikaelson."

"I'd hope so," Hope snorts. "Dr. Saltzman said you're stuck with me indefinitely."

"What?"