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MARI JANG.
"Oh my, is that miss I-visit-you-every-fifteen-years that I'm seeing at my front door?" Damon Salvatore exclaims as he opens the door to his big mansion with a cheeky smile on his lips. He hugs me as he asks, "What are you doing here?"
I jokingly slap his back. "I'm doing amazing, thank you for asking, you dick," I reply, sarcastically, ending the hug. "Life's been treating me correctly but if you would even look at my texts you'd know."
"Someone is sassy today, I see," he grabs my shoulders and we walk into the mansion together. "And if you haven't already understood after all these years, I would rather talk to you in real life than through a screen."
"And I'd much rather talk to you through a screen than see your face in real life."
Just like old times, I walk into the Salvatore's living room and sit on the couch while Damon pours me a glass of bourbon—which I gladly accept. I look around and notice that nothing has changed over the decades. It still looks like the old mansion I used to come to at night in the 1800's. The place still looks as old as I used to remember, and think, but I like it. That's what makes it so pretty and... itself if that makes sense.
The eldest Salvatore brother hands me a glass of alcohol while standing in front of me.
"So, what are you really doing here, Mari?" He asks me.
I gasp, dramatically. "You must be kidding." Damon shakes his head, confused, and I hold myself from sighing. "You called a few days ago begging me to come into town to help you with something—PS: I still don't know what the something is—and as the amazing friend that I am, I came to your rescue but apparently, you forgot about it so I'm guessing everything went well."
"Mari, that was weeks ago!"
"Days, weeks, years, that's just details," I wave my hands dismissively and he scoffs. "What I'm getting from all that is that I came for nothing. Great!"
"You didn't come here for nothing."
"Oh, yeah? Because it seems to me that your problem got solved without my help so I don't see why I should be stay—"
"Stefan," my friend says the name of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. "He's here."
As soon as I hear his name, I drink everything that is in my glass and stand up to serve me some more because if we're about to talk about him then I need to be as drunk as possible.
Hearing his name feels weird, which would not have made sense to who I used to be 200 years ago because I used to love hearing his name but times have changed and now I despise hearing it. It reminds me of his betrayal.
"Okay... and? What am I supposed to do? Run into his arms and kiss him—not going to do that, Damon." I snap at him, feeling a wave of anger rush through me. "He betrayed me, and I'm not a big fan of traitors."
