REBEKAH
I was travelling on my own in those days, my Nik having gone to Europe on some adventure or another that hadn’t interested me in the least. A human woman would never have been able to travel alone, so I compelled myself a couple groomsmen and a lady’s maid to accompany me on my quest. My quest, you ask? It was very simple, you see. I wished to find if there was any reason for me to continue on this immortal existence or if life was just too unbearable anymore and I should end it all. Dreadfully dramatic I was in those days.
It was on this journey I happened to travel through Virginia and had stopped at some tavern for the evening. A place a lady of my stature should never have been seen in, but I just didn’t care anymore. I sat at the bar extolling the virtues of remaining a spinster and how I never wished to be as stupid as the poets who wrote sentimental pablum about love and eternity while never truly grasping the enormity of either, when the deep rumble of a laugh beside me caught my attention. Turning to glare at the man who dared to mock me, I looked into the bluest eyes I had ever seen. At first I couldn’t decide if I would bed him before tearing out his heart, when he began to speak.
He told of his love for a lady that could never be his, but instead of longing and regret there was nothing but joy for at least having had the chance to love her at all. He spoke in terms of single moments and stolen hours, while I was determined to wallow in years and centuries. He wished to run away with her and had already made inquiries into jobs in the land that was opening up out west. He knew his dreams may never be, but he dreamt nonetheless. And her loved her. Even when I compelled him to speak nothing but the truth, there was love in every syllable. A simple man with no promise of tomorrow and he had peace on a level I had never imagined. Moved beyond words, I pressed a broach in his hands, one which would easily bankroll his new life. Wishing him well, I watched him exit the tavern and almost felt some hope in my own heart.
Later, as I strolled along the lane back to the Inn where I was spending the night, I heard a gurgled plea and smelt the aroma of fresh-spilt blood. Approaching curiously, I found the man from earlier lying in a tangle of broken limbs and torn flesh. My brain would not process that his life could end before he had a chance to put into play his plan for happiness. Every nerve in my body was on fire, rejecting this preposterous outcome. He knew love! He believed! Without hesitating, I bit into my wrist and pressed it to his gasping mouth. In the moments before he died, I knew I would teach him the ways to survive as one of the immortals. I would prepare him for this life before sending him back to his love to claim her.
Back to Mystic Falls.
I was travelling on my own in those days, my Nik having gone to Europe on some adventure or another that hadn’t interested me in the least. A human woman would never have been able to travel alone, so I compelled myself a couple groomsmen and a lady’s maid to accompany me on my quest. My quest, you ask? It was very simple, you see. I wished to find if there was any reason for me to continue on this immortal existence or if life was just too unbearable anymore and I should end it all. Dreadfully dramatic I was in those days.
It was on this journey I happened to travel through Virginia and had stopped at some tavern for the evening. A place a lady of my stature should never have been seen in, but I just didn’t care anymore. I sat at the bar extolling the virtues of remaining a spinster and how I never wished to be as stupid as the poets who wrote sentimental pablum about love and eternity while never truly grasping the enormity of either, when the deep rumble of a laugh beside me caught my attention. Turning to glare at the man who dared to mock me, I looked into the bluest eyes I had ever seen. At first I couldn’t decide if I would bed him before tearing out his heart, when he began to speak.
He told of his love for a lady that could never be his, but instead of longing and regret there was nothing but joy for at least having had the chance to love her at all. He spoke in terms of single moments and stolen hours, while I was determined to wallow in years and centuries. He wished to run away with her and had already made inquiries into jobs in the land that was opening up out west. He knew his dreams may never be, but he dreamt nonetheless. And her loved her. Even when I compelled him to speak nothing but the truth, there was love in every syllable. A simple man with no promise of tomorrow and he had peace on a level I had never imagined. Moved beyond words, I pressed a broach in his hands, one which would easily bankroll his new life. Wishing him well, I watched him exit the tavern and almost felt some hope in my own heart.
Later, as I strolled along the lane back to the Inn where I was spending the night, I heard a gurgled plea and smelt the aroma of fresh-spilt blood. Approaching curiously, I found the man from earlier lying in a tangle of broken limbs and torn flesh. My brain would not process that his life could end before he had a chance to put into play his plan for happiness. Every nerve in my body was on fire, rejecting this preposterous outcome. He knew love! He believed! Without hesitating, I bit into my wrist and pressed it to his gasping mouth. In the moments before he died, I knew I would teach him the ways to survive as one of the immortals. I would prepare him for this life before sending him back to his love to claim her.
Back to Mystic Falls.