Stefan Salvatore (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
somanyadjectives) wrote2012-11-26 09:34 pm
somanyadjectives) wrote2012-11-26 09:34 pm
beyond the rift } { one day he pushed a broom, nothing in his news but gloom and doom
Stefan hated the fifties.
He hated the dance styles. He hated the hair. He hated the clothes. Pretty much the only thing he actually liked about the fifties were the cars, and since he’s crash landed there from a future Chicago, he couldn’t really afford one. True, he could probably compel one away, but he’s trying to be good. He’s wasn’t very good at being good, even when he was clean and sober and on the bunny blood diet, but that’s not what’s important.
The important thing is that Stefan is in the fifties. This is going to suck.
***
“Whadaya want?”
The man is a short, pudgy looking guy who looks at Stefan like he’s the ugliest thing he’s seen standing on his front stairs in a long time. For all Stefan knows, that could actually be the case, but given that they’re standing in the middle of a place the locals call “Skid Row,” he highly doubts it.
(There was a song about it. Stefan’s chalking that up to some kind of head trauma.)
“I’m just looking for a job.”
“What about this store makes you think that I can afford to give you a job?” He tsks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, before turning away and waving a hand. “Either buy something or stop wasting my time.”
Stefan, at this point, has been to stores all the way up and down Skid Row and has come up empty on all counts. He’s sick of it.He grabs the guy (Mr. Mushnik) by the arm and turns him to face him again.
“I’m not wasting your time, because you’re going to give me a job.”
Okay, maybe he isn’t trying to be as good as he thought.
“You start tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” Stefan nods, pulling back with a smile. “I won’t let you down.”
***
The thing about being have a repetitious, boring job like the one at Mr. Mushnik’s is that it gave him a lot of time to think. Not necessarily about what he’s doing—you don’t need much brain power to sweep a floor or water plants—but about what he had left behind. Friends, family, all of his relationships are a mess because of his continually siding with Rebekah.
Damon doesn’t trust him.
Elena has been hurt by him.
As strained as their relationships may be, they’re the two most important people in the world to him, and he chose someone else. He’d like to tell himself it that it was for their own good, but he really needs to stop making that decision. It only seems to get him into trouble.
(He can’t stop saving them, though. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t.)
At the same time, he can’t abandon Rebekah, either. She’s already lost too much as it is.
“You’re always so quiet all the time, Stefan.” Audrey’s shrill voice cuts through his train of thought, and he glances over to where she’s pruning one of the plants. “Thinking of a special girl?”
A few, actually. “More like special people. The family I left behind.”
“I’m sorry. You must miss them a lot.”
“Yeah. I do.”
“If you ever want to talk—I promise I’m a real good listener.”
He isn’t sure that Audrey could ever understand fully, but sometimes he takes her up on it. Sometimes he also compels her abusive jerk of a boyfriend to do stupid things for his own amusement.
He probably would have eaten the guy, but apparently Seymour’s man-eating plant got to him first.
***
That’s right, Seymour is keeping a man-eating plant in the basement.
Stefan did not sign up for this crap.
***
The benefit to being a vampire in this particular world? He doesn’t make a very appetizing meal. For one thing, he snaps Seymour’s neck before he can even get him near that thing. For another? He tastes like rotting meat, and “Twoey” as the stupid thing is affectionately being called, spits him right out before he can get close enough to save Audrey.
“Big mistake.”
He takes the axe and hacks uses his speed and strength to hack the stupid plant apart, not stopping until it’s a mess of tiny little bits. It feels good, being so senselessly destructive to something. He can feel the anger he’s been struggling to keep ahold of evaporating and funneling into the plant he’s destroying, and in the end he may be covered in plant guts, but he feels so much better.
(He may have been picturing Klaus’s face at the time. He’s not going to tell Rebekah that if he ever sees her again.)
The floor of Mushnik & Sons is a mess, but he doesn’t feel like cleaning it up now. He tosses the axe to the side, goes to grab his leather jacket, and starts to head up the stairs. He’ll clean it up tomorrow.
Right now, he needs a shower.
He turns the corner onto Skid Row, about to head down towards the apartment that he had compelled for himself, and finds himself tripping over the edge of a fountain that’s suddenly in his way and slamming into the ice cold water within. He comes up, coughing and sputtering, before looking up at the statue next to him, and groaning.
“Chicago.”
He flops back into the water, letting it envelope him, and plans on staying there for a good long time.
It’s not like he needs to breathe, after all.
(If he had been paying more attention, he might have noticed a very tiny pod making a break for it across the grass, but that’s a story for another day.)
943 words
He hated the dance styles. He hated the hair. He hated the clothes. Pretty much the only thing he actually liked about the fifties were the cars, and since he’s crash landed there from a future Chicago, he couldn’t really afford one. True, he could probably compel one away, but he’s trying to be good. He’s wasn’t very good at being good, even when he was clean and sober and on the bunny blood diet, but that’s not what’s important.
The important thing is that Stefan is in the fifties. This is going to suck.
***
“Whadaya want?”
The man is a short, pudgy looking guy who looks at Stefan like he’s the ugliest thing he’s seen standing on his front stairs in a long time. For all Stefan knows, that could actually be the case, but given that they’re standing in the middle of a place the locals call “Skid Row,” he highly doubts it.
(There was a song about it. Stefan’s chalking that up to some kind of head trauma.)
“I’m just looking for a job.”
“What about this store makes you think that I can afford to give you a job?” He tsks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, before turning away and waving a hand. “Either buy something or stop wasting my time.”
Stefan, at this point, has been to stores all the way up and down Skid Row and has come up empty on all counts. He’s sick of it.He grabs the guy (Mr. Mushnik) by the arm and turns him to face him again.
“I’m not wasting your time, because you’re going to give me a job.”
Okay, maybe he isn’t trying to be as good as he thought.
“You start tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” Stefan nods, pulling back with a smile. “I won’t let you down.”
***
The thing about being have a repetitious, boring job like the one at Mr. Mushnik’s is that it gave him a lot of time to think. Not necessarily about what he’s doing—you don’t need much brain power to sweep a floor or water plants—but about what he had left behind. Friends, family, all of his relationships are a mess because of his continually siding with Rebekah.
Damon doesn’t trust him.
Elena has been hurt by him.
As strained as their relationships may be, they’re the two most important people in the world to him, and he chose someone else. He’d like to tell himself it that it was for their own good, but he really needs to stop making that decision. It only seems to get him into trouble.
(He can’t stop saving them, though. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t.)
At the same time, he can’t abandon Rebekah, either. She’s already lost too much as it is.
“You’re always so quiet all the time, Stefan.” Audrey’s shrill voice cuts through his train of thought, and he glances over to where she’s pruning one of the plants. “Thinking of a special girl?”
A few, actually. “More like special people. The family I left behind.”
“I’m sorry. You must miss them a lot.”
“Yeah. I do.”
“If you ever want to talk—I promise I’m a real good listener.”
He isn’t sure that Audrey could ever understand fully, but sometimes he takes her up on it. Sometimes he also compels her abusive jerk of a boyfriend to do stupid things for his own amusement.
He probably would have eaten the guy, but apparently Seymour’s man-eating plant got to him first.
***
That’s right, Seymour is keeping a man-eating plant in the basement.
Stefan did not sign up for this crap.
***
The benefit to being a vampire in this particular world? He doesn’t make a very appetizing meal. For one thing, he snaps Seymour’s neck before he can even get him near that thing. For another? He tastes like rotting meat, and “Twoey” as the stupid thing is affectionately being called, spits him right out before he can get close enough to save Audrey.
“Big mistake.”
He takes the axe and hacks uses his speed and strength to hack the stupid plant apart, not stopping until it’s a mess of tiny little bits. It feels good, being so senselessly destructive to something. He can feel the anger he’s been struggling to keep ahold of evaporating and funneling into the plant he’s destroying, and in the end he may be covered in plant guts, but he feels so much better.
(He may have been picturing Klaus’s face at the time. He’s not going to tell Rebekah that if he ever sees her again.)
The floor of Mushnik & Sons is a mess, but he doesn’t feel like cleaning it up now. He tosses the axe to the side, goes to grab his leather jacket, and starts to head up the stairs. He’ll clean it up tomorrow.
Right now, he needs a shower.
He turns the corner onto Skid Row, about to head down towards the apartment that he had compelled for himself, and finds himself tripping over the edge of a fountain that’s suddenly in his way and slamming into the ice cold water within. He comes up, coughing and sputtering, before looking up at the statue next to him, and groaning.
“Chicago.”
He flops back into the water, letting it envelope him, and plans on staying there for a good long time.
It’s not like he needs to breathe, after all.
(If he had been paying more attention, he might have noticed a very tiny pod making a break for it across the grass, but that’s a story for another day.)
943 words