Why, Damon Salvatore! I do declare are you flirting with me about the taste of my blood.
Yeah, no - I’ve had enough of werewolf bites to try and flirt with one’s mate, kid.
She whirled, gaze heated and shoulders pulled taut. “I have no reason to be anything but proud. And I will not bend to the whim of an egregious child who has lived well past a time when anyone cared for him, simply so that he may receive the gratification of being told he is right and continue wallowing in the cess pool of victimization that he has created.”
"Here’s the biggest difference between you and me - what makes me, in fact, better than you, which is an unusual feat. I can admit that I am wrong. I’ve been wrong many a time with Stefan. I’m the reason we don’t talk anymore, for the most part. It’s more my fault than his. You, on the other hand, are a little brat, who’s never had to deal with that conclusion.”
Her face burned at being called a child, not with embarrassment but with anger. “Pity a child can handle these issues better than two overgrown men.” Sniffing, she shook her head, completely exasperated with this…imbecile. He was so busy throwing himself a pity party, he couldn’t see past his own nose. “You have just as much intention as he does, to put it frankly. You seem to be overloaded with excuses, but no action, just like him. You both weave different stories but with the same sad undertones of how the other has wronged you.” Waving off his other faulty reasonings for not speaking with Stefan, some mention about a girl, surely spelling trouble again, she turned away. “And I really don’t care to hear any more of it.”
He rolled his eyes. “You talk an awful lot about other people’s pride for all that you can’t see past your own. Do you even bother to listen to other people talking, or do you simply take up a certain mantle and argue it in spite of whatever you might hear? It seems as though you’ve never thought to be wrong in all of your extremely short and probably pitiful life.”
"Why would you tease when you were about to discuss a serious issue?!” Honestly, these men had no tact or common sense, and she was more than prepared to wipe her hands of both of them. “You’re giving the exact reasons why he wouldn’t take it lightly, and yet you’re confused by it.” Her hands threatened to just toss into the air, giving up, but she fought the feeling off. “If you’ve spent years telling him you’ve hated him and meaning it, he probably doesn’t believe you capable of ‘brotherly teasing.’” With finality, she unclenched her fists. “Either approach him earnestly and tell him everything that’s on your mind, or prepare to have this arena tear you apart. This is the first of many trials it’s sure to put you through.” She turned away, bending to snatch up her wand and stuff it back into its holster. “You have no one to blame but yourself if it comes to that.”
"Because it’s not who I am. And he knows that. More than anyone, he knows me. And more than anyone, he knows that I never meant it. Vampires know lies. It’s not rocket science. Yet somehow, within the span of around fifty years, he managed to make sure every single one of my friends loathed me and adored him. So yeah - I love him. That doesn’t mean I don’t think he deserves his teeth kicked out of his head. And you, as a mortal, will never understand that. You haven’t felt a century’s worth of emotions. You’re a child, do you understand that? Almost all of you - you’re children. I saw the making of Panem and I will live through it’s fall. Stefan knew I loved a girl, and he took he from me - then he did the same to every single one of my friends. And every time I explain this to him, he admits to it, yet doesn’t see how that’s wrong in any way. So yes. Yes, I have tried to talk to him. But you let him fool you into thinking he has the intention of talking to me - which he doesn’t. Not yet. And I can’t be the one to make him turn around. We’re too close to the issue. I met… a girl, Spencer. She made it easier to see - to see where I went wrong, instead of just agonizing over it. But he doesn’t have anyone to help him. And I can’t be that. I have to wait for him to be in a place he can talk to me - and I haven’t seen it yet.”
The girl looked surprisingly grumpy, but she shook it away. “And neither have you.” Pushing herself to her feet, she dusted off her hands, glancing at them. “There can be no doubt that you’re related, because pride goeth before both of your falls.”
He shook his head. “I tried, when we got to the arena, but he mistook my teasing for something genuine and once he starts insulting me for real, it’s a little hard to remember I’m trying to be nice. Stefan was brought up on the idea that I’m dirt he can grind under his heel - it’s only when he focuses that he realizes I might have been trying. And it isn’t - pride. I have no illusions when it comes to it. Stefan is a better person than I am. But I spent too many years telling him I hated him.”
[He nodded in appreciation, forcing a smile.] Right— thanks. I’ll keep an eye out for one of them. The sooner we get out of here, the better.
… This is an arena. It’ll keep us until it’s ready to spit out the leftovers.
She met his eyes but didn’t cower away from it. “I was prepared to kill him. He asked me to tell his brother that he loved him, and I allowed him the opportunity to let it be known himself.” A scowl appeared. “I see he he’s made no effort to.”
That was surprising. No matter what he’d done, or how many times he’d ever tried to get Stefan to laugh, he’d only ever put him down. Which made sense - he’d been raised to find Damon beneath him. “No - he hasn’t. Unless his version is to tell me I’m pathetic.”
Staring blankly, Daenerys shook her head in disblief. “I don’t see why not. You’re both alive, able to communicate…you just had the conversation with a figment of your imagination. You can speak to the real person who so desperately wants to speak with you.” Her voice softened slightly, but only just. “It was his dying wish.”
She didn’t understand. No mortal could, really. It was so incredibly difficult, when it came to centuries of loathing, or despair. How powerful those emotions were, how incredibly changing to the very core of who you were. His head snapped up. “His what?”
I don’t really know anyone wizards around here but— sure. Will do.
[He sighed, trying to think - remember.] One of the leaders, his name is Ford - he’s a wizard. Cute little girl, naive - Fallon. Bushy hair and an uppity expression would be Hermione. Stilinski - Stiles - he’s spastic and lanky, and he probably wouldn’t be much help.
It was a sudden shift, despite the obvious frustration he’d shown earlier. Her hand flitted for her hand, out of habit, but she couldn’t remember where she’d placed it. He calmed, though, and she rested her hands serenly in her lap once again, lifting her chin slightly. “It’s been how long? Over a century? And it still haunts you. If that doesn’t speak to how necessary it is for you to fix it - or at least try - I’m not sure you weren’t mad before this place.”
"She pits us against each other - even… recently." Telling lies, tearing them apart so they wouldn’t work together as mentors, the way they should. Clearly this woman had never encountered Katherine - she’d speak differently if she had. "It’s not exactly the kind of place we should have that conversation, anyway."