- neanderthals and drama -

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 lack in humour and intelligence••••

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lack in humour and intelligence
••••

"Chain spells are about the fluid movement of energy from witch to witch." Dorian announces to the class, making me purse my lips and raise my hand.

"Yes, Blair?"

I sheepishly rub the back of my neck and mumble quietly. "Why am I here if my only purpose in life is feeding off blood and not dying from the lack of." I pause and look at the man. "If I'm not mistaken, this is a class for..erm, witches and not so much vampires."

Hope scoffs across the room and answers for Dorian. "Because you can't be trusted with your kind so Dr. Saltzman set you in a class with us. Right, Mr. Williams?" Someone is bitter. I love being reminded of how dangerous I am to supernatural beings of my own kind. I can't even be trusted by Alaric to associate myself with vampires because of my murderous bloodline. Thanks a lot, dad.

Dorian clears his throat. "Yes, but less harsh in that aspect. Dr. Saltzman wants you to familiarise yourself with the witches around you and make friends." He replies, making my slump my shoulders in defeat. Boring, I can't socialise to save my own life. I would rather be torn to shreds by a werewolf than communicate with snarky witches that are too self absorbed with themselves and yes I'm talking about..

"Speaking of witches, where is Penelope Park?" I glance at Lizzie who grins up at Dorian, mischievously. That specific witch, Penelope Park.

"Uhm, lady cramps, Mr. Williams." I internally roll my eyes at that. If only.

Dorian practically recoils at the mention. "Sorry I asked." He mutters, examining the students. "A disharmonious group makes for an uneven flow." I snicker along with the rest of the class, finding the irony of his sentence and a second in the shared amusement, a small paper glides across the room, slowly twirling down in Dorian's general grasp. Hogwarts who?

"Uh-oh, who's in trouble with the headmaster?"

Hope eyes me before lifting her gaze to Lizzie, eyebrows pinched together and arms crossed spitefully. "Probably the people who started a rumble with the local high school." The tribrid jabs at Lizzie.

Somehow word got out that Lizzie Saltzman socked me in the face and became the main cause of the fight that broke out with Mystic Falls High. I call fat bullcrap on that. Dana can take all the blame, if she wasn't such an coward to Lizzie and at least made an attempt to get along, this predicament wouldn't be happening as we speak.

"Lizzie Saltzman, Josie Saltzman." He reads from the paper, then glances up briefly at the tribrid girl who scoffs quietly under her breath. "And baby makes three."

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