𝗧𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘 𝗢𝗙 𝗬𝗢𝗨 ── 𝘚.𝘚𝘛𝘐𝘓𝘐𝘕𝘚𝘒𝘐

♡ 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗦𝗜𝗫𝗧𝗬-𝗙𝗢𝗨𝗥 ♡

Derek Hale would've taken offense. That was until he heard the man's heart skip a singular beat and how quickly he seemed to back into the doorway under his stare. "James," he grasped the edge of his jacket in a swift motion. "What is it?"

Paranoia crept up his spine as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low tone and pulling out the paper from beneath his jacket. "You remember what Sybil said?" as his ringed fingers unfolded the paper, Derek Hale flickered his eyes between them and his face. "Well, lo and behold, I found out where this Elijah Mikaelson lives." 

He flicked the back of the paper with his thumb before presenting a proud smile on his stubbled face. 

"So?" 

His proud look faltered. "So, I did a bit of research." Jim pushed past the Hale with consistent ramblings. "The Mikaelsons aren't just vampires. Elijah isn't just a vampire. They're Originals." he spoke once more, mainly to himself. "Originals who can compel anyone to do just about anything they want... to forget anything they want."

Derek Hale didn't like his tone. Nor the way his eyes lit up as he said it. Truth be told, Derek didn't like any of this at all. 

"You live with a few sirens who can do the same thing. What's your point?"

The heavy duffel bag dropped to the table with molecules of dust circling through the air. Ignoring his question, the man rose one hand to shush him. "When I first moved here, I had no money. I didn't even have a last name. I took Marilyn's remember?" he froze. "Well, I always thought that my parents disowned me because they never liked Marilyn. Or Dallas. But that wasn't it."

The Werewolf stepped forward. 

"They disowned me because I started to look like this guy." He lifted the blurry printed photograph of Elijah he kept tucked inside the leaflet. "Because I'm not just his doppelganger. I'm his descendant." 

James inhaled sharply. "I have my family. I don't need another." he bowed his head. "But if Dallas won't flip her switch, I know he can definitely force her to."

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

Scott McCall approached the high school halls carefully, twisting his neck to every bare corner that passed his way with hesitation. His mind was a mess. A paranoia fiasco. It seemed like everybody had an agenda these days - and everybody looked to him for the answers.

But when he swallowed the lump in his throat, readjusting his stance and forcefully slowing his heartbeat, Scott tried his best to ignore every thought rushing through his twisted brain.

Dallas' locker slammed beside his face and a whiff of sadness radiated from her usual salty scent. It made him slower his pace a little - to reconsider approaching her at all.

"Hi."

That was all he could blubber out. He cursed inwardly. Great way to start the conversation, Scott. 

Hi, are you planning to kill my girlfriend?

Hi, sorry for insulting your family.

Hi, you aren't who you used to be.

The werewolf wanted to walk away right then and there. A part of him told him that maybe he should. After all, he felt like he had done enough already.