Post by DAMON SALVATORE on May 30, 2017 13:48:47 GMT
Home, sweet home. Well, two out of three wasn’t bad Damon supposed. Mystic Falls had once been home, a sprawling estate of a home out in the woods which his dad had ruled with an iron hand, and it was home once again now. A year ago he wouldn’t have called it that, it was just a stopping point, a place to drop by to make Stefan and Zach’s lives a misery, but thanks to his brother, to Elena and the rest of those pesky kids, the Boarding House had started to become something more again. Rolling across the state lines it’d felt a little like there was a line tying him to the place, a sense of home he didn’t want. Tugging against it he’d followed the mystery blonde through the woods to feed, his first act of defiance back on home turf, but instead of a snack he’d gotten a mouthful of vervain and had been roped in to dealing with something killing things in his town. Wasn’t that the way it had been time and time again during that last stay in town? Big bad, pissed off thing targets some sweet, helpless little human, Satan spawn, sarcastic vampire gets dragged in to deal with it against his will. It wasn’t the way things were supposed to be but hell, when were things ever the way they were supposed to be. Drumming his fingers against the steering wheel Damon scowled up at the house. He was supposed to have gotten the girl, to have sprung Katherine from the tomb finally and been a thousand miles away from here now. Instead Katherine had been free all along, free not to give a damn that he’d been in love with her for over a hundred years and he was back here, half convinced that he was falling for his brother’s girlfriend.
Cursing under his breath he got out of the Camaro, strode towards the front door of the Boarding House. He wasn’t gonna do that again. The whole point of coming home was to protect Elena, to protect Stefan, from whatever it was that was coming here. Once that was over he was gonna be gone again, free of this town and the Petrova doppelgangers. No guilt, no stinging pride, no expectations hanging over him like a dark cloud just ready to dump its load on him. Anticipating the shadow of that dark cloud sticking around for now at least Damon levered his way out of the car. A smile, a swagger, the mask was back up in place as he opened the front door and made his way inside. Damon tossed his jacket on the newel post, let a narrowed eyed gaze work its way up the stairs. He could almost feel his brother in the house, just sitting up in his room judging. Looking away, Damon made his way towards the living room, voice finally rising as he went. ”No red carpet, no fatted calf, no wailing welcome. How disappointing.” The diatribe paused as he headed straight for the liquor. Two fingers of bourbon in the bottom of a glass and he was dropping bonelessly onto the couch. Blue eyes rolled towards the doorway as he heard motion. ”I was beginning to think you wouldn’t be glad to see me,” he added almost sweetly. Stretching out his legs, crossing them at the ankles Damon took a long sip of the bourbon. Given what had happened before he’d left town he wouldn’t have been surprised if his warm welcome was ice cold.