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somanyadjectivesIt started, as most stories do, with someone leaving.
Most stories began with fresh starts. About a person, setting off to make a fresh start for themselves, but in the end, it always came down to someone leaving. In this particular instance, it was a lot of people starting over, or at least that was what the history passed down told them. Led by the Lanes, all six families, moved, resettled, and built lives in a small little alcove of a valley they dubbed Mystic Falls.
For a while, it was ideal. They lived in harmony, building lives for themselves and their subjects, and over the generations their little valley flourished into a happy place, lead by the princes of the province, the founding families who had brought them there all those years ago, and had kept them happy, healthy, and safe. Stefan had grown up in the company of people who would be his friends for life, until the day he died, and he wasn’t about to run the risk of losing any of that, even if he had—more than he would have liked.
It started with Buffy. Stefan wasn’t there when the actual curse was cast, but he read about it in the family’s records. On the day Buffy was born, all the kingdom came to give her gifts, and one of those gifts was a curse, to prick her finger on a spinning wheel and die. Shelia, the most regarded witch in the village, managed to augment the curse so that Buffy would only fall asleep, but that didn’t change the fact that she was gone. By the time she turned sixteen, she disappeared, and hasn’t been seen since. Then Shelia’s granddaughter went missing as a baby, and the loss was felt by the entire village. The grief of losing a child wasn’t one that went away easily, and Stefan could still see it. He didn’t think there was anyone who couldn’t.
Then there was Damon.
No one was really sure what happened to the oldest Salvatore brother—all the rest of the town truly knew was that one day, Damon was there, and the next, he simply vanished. Stefan searched for days for some sign of his big brother in the woods outside the town, but by the end of that first week, his father came to him, telling him that Damon was dead. He wasn’t coming back. There were so many questions that had gone unanswered with regards to his older brother being gone, but there was nothing he could do about it now. There was only acceptance. But that didn’t mean he didn’t feel the loss of his brother every day.
At the end of the day, Mystic Falls was still his home. Come what may, there was going to be fairly little that could derail him from that at the end of the day. He may take some time and travel away from the town on occasion, but when it came down to it, he would always come home.
And then a girl fell from the sky.
Most stories began with fresh starts. About a person, setting off to make a fresh start for themselves, but in the end, it always came down to someone leaving. In this particular instance, it was a lot of people starting over, or at least that was what the history passed down told them. Led by the Lanes, all six families, moved, resettled, and built lives in a small little alcove of a valley they dubbed Mystic Falls.
For a while, it was ideal. They lived in harmony, building lives for themselves and their subjects, and over the generations their little valley flourished into a happy place, lead by the princes of the province, the founding families who had brought them there all those years ago, and had kept them happy, healthy, and safe. Stefan had grown up in the company of people who would be his friends for life, until the day he died, and he wasn’t about to run the risk of losing any of that, even if he had—more than he would have liked.
It started with Buffy. Stefan wasn’t there when the actual curse was cast, but he read about it in the family’s records. On the day Buffy was born, all the kingdom came to give her gifts, and one of those gifts was a curse, to prick her finger on a spinning wheel and die. Shelia, the most regarded witch in the village, managed to augment the curse so that Buffy would only fall asleep, but that didn’t change the fact that she was gone. By the time she turned sixteen, she disappeared, and hasn’t been seen since. Then Shelia’s granddaughter went missing as a baby, and the loss was felt by the entire village. The grief of losing a child wasn’t one that went away easily, and Stefan could still see it. He didn’t think there was anyone who couldn’t.
Then there was Damon.
No one was really sure what happened to the oldest Salvatore brother—all the rest of the town truly knew was that one day, Damon was there, and the next, he simply vanished. Stefan searched for days for some sign of his big brother in the woods outside the town, but by the end of that first week, his father came to him, telling him that Damon was dead. He wasn’t coming back. There were so many questions that had gone unanswered with regards to his older brother being gone, but there was nothing he could do about it now. There was only acceptance. But that didn’t mean he didn’t feel the loss of his brother every day.
At the end of the day, Mystic Falls was still his home. Come what may, there was going to be fairly little that could derail him from that at the end of the day. He may take some time and travel away from the town on occasion, but when it came down to it, he would always come home.
And then a girl fell from the sky.
