Elena Gilbert (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lookedafter) wrote2013-02-22 10:07 am
lookedafter) wrote2013-02-22 10:07 am
Entry tags:
an appeal: for manof_myword
By the time the party winds down, Elena's pretty positive that Tara is going to be willing to help them - especially since Damon has made it clear that he'll be indebted to her in some way and only made minimalist threats in the process. But the spell itself - or the details involved to make the ring work - are a mystery to them, until Elena realizes there might be someone who can help them. Actually, there are probably several someones who know the trick to the real spell, but she can think of only one who might be willing to help.
Unfortunately, she's been avoiding him since the party itself, aside from an quick appreciative text fired off in thanks for a certain bouquet of flowers delivered to her door on a certain holiday - no amount of money could have paid Damon to look any more annoyed - and now she reaches for her phone again, typing a quick message into it and pressing send before she can talk herself out of it.
She's sitting in the coffee shop nearest to her apartment an hour later, after the sun's gone down, clutching a mug in both hands as she tries to look relaxed at a table in the back. She doesn't know why she ordered the coffee - she can't really stomach the taste anymore - but something about the habit of it, the warmth of the ceramic against her palms, soothes her just a little bit to keep the nerves at bay.
Unfortunately, she's been avoiding him since the party itself, aside from an quick appreciative text fired off in thanks for a certain bouquet of flowers delivered to her door on a certain holiday - no amount of money could have paid Damon to look any more annoyed - and now she reaches for her phone again, typing a quick message into it and pressing send before she can talk herself out of it.
She's sitting in the coffee shop nearest to her apartment an hour later, after the sun's gone down, clutching a mug in both hands as she tries to look relaxed at a table in the back. She doesn't know why she ordered the coffee - she can't really stomach the taste anymore - but something about the habit of it, the warmth of the ceramic against her palms, soothes her just a little bit to keep the nerves at bay.