chapter two — power isn't something to fear

( "Always search for magic. It's hidden in the smallest things: In flowers, in books, in the sunlight, in clouds, in blossoming trees, in bird's song. It's everywhere, we just don't see it. " ) — Esthetique on Tumblr

      Gwyn Desdemona glanced at the sunbeams pouring into the bedroom windowsills with a sense of soft admiration. Stefan's room was warm with sulking emotions and as colorful as a gloomy fall night. She released a slow breath as she watched Stefan whimper and squirm beneath his sheets, amused by his lack of a psychic shield and how seamless it was for her to insert herself inside his weak mind. She was conscious of how much her magical abilities exhibited a forcefulness in a marked degree and as she effortlessly planted a simple nightmare into Stefan's mind, she became aware of how much Stefan needed to consume human blood. He was never going to survive Damon's plans if he remained in this state of weakness.

      Stefan gasped as he exploded upright, his skin sleek with sweat as he grunted as he realized he had only been dreaming. Gwyn offered an impish smile as she sipped her chamomile tea, her ankles crossed on top of his desk. "Bad dream," She asked, her voice echoed as she spoke into the glass cup. "Your mind's psychic shield is weak, Stefan. Human blood can easily fix that." She craned her neck in a taunting manner. She watched with a feeling of satisfaction as his aura transformed into a potent brick red; Stefan was enraged, and she supposed he had every right to be. Entering his mind and tormenting him when he was awake and asleep must've struck a nerve. 

      Stefan, in a swift blur, sped over to the large wooden desk across the room and hastily threw a silver dagger in her direction. Gwyn tediously raised her hand and the knife froze mid-air. She raised an eyebrow, glancing at the weapon with an unimpressed look. "You're a dick," She said venomously. She knew Stefan was aware he couldn't kill her, he could feel that she wasn't some regular witch, but that didn't mean he couldn't try. "I only came here to tell you the culprit that killed your stupid football coach and all those innocent people has finally been caught. It was a huge mountain lion. Poor thing attacked a hunter this morning, it's all over the news." The lack of empathy in her voice was slightly frightening.

      Stefan narrowed his brown eyes. "Why are you covering his tracks?" He didn't understand. As far as he knew, there was no reason for Gwyn and Damon to cover their tracks. Sure, they were hellbent on making his only chance for a calm, happy life go horribly wrong, but he didn't think they were going to permanently reside in Mystic Falls. Or at least he hoped.

      Gwyn rose from the chair, taking one final sip of her tea as she motioned for the floating dagger to accelerate towards Stefan in a swift blur. She smiled heartlessly as he yelled in pain, collapsing to the floor as he clutched his wound. "Damon's decided to stay awhile, and where he goes, I follow." She said. The words burned as she spoke. "And making your life miserable brings the utmost joy to me." She patted his head and departed from view. It was almost painful as she realized this was her life now. Tormenting the teenage vampire who ruthlessly killed her ancestors centuries ago, which, admittedly, she enjoyed. She wasn't particularly fond of following the blue-eyed prick who couldn't get over his mummified ex.

      With shaking hands, Stefan yanked the blade from his stomach and watched as the bloody gash slowly healed. He didn't think Gwyn would remember his previous connection to the Desdemona lineage. There would have been no possible way for her to even know what he did, but he supposed the Desdemona coven contained knowledge and power people outside of the coven would never know. He just hoped she would grant him mercy until he could figure out how to make things right.

<<>>

      "They still wear ties to this thing?" 

      Gwyn trailed behind Damon as she cradled two different pairs of earrings in both hands. Damon, who lacked a blouse and allowed his bare skin to be displayed, barged into Stefan's room and immediately headed towards his spotlessly clean mirror and quickly checked himself out. Gwyn raised each earring beside her head, alternating between the two with a contemplative expression. "Why are you even going?" Stefen asked as he dusted off his shoes, unlacing them.

      Damon glanced at Stefan from the mirror. "Well, it's only fitting. We were at the very first one, remember?" Gwyn remembered. Vividly. She remembered the way Damon used to be before he unwillingly transformed into the monster he was right at that moment; the way he used to cower from his father Giuseppe and his cruel ways. She recalled how Damon mourned for his mother when she passed away from consumption and how Giuseppe dwelled in alcoholism to cope. And she remembered the horrible hairdo Stefan had. Regardless of all the troubles, Damon was still a monster. 

      Stefan offered a serious look. "I think it's best if we don't draw attention to ourselves." 

      Gwyn quirked an eyebrow as she watched Stefan's aura swirl with a grey hue. He was nervous, fearful even. "Then stay here. It's not like you have any friends to talk to over there. It's kind of pathetic, actually." She said, mostly to herself. Stefan eyed her warily as if he was trying to decipher her. She stared back until he grew uncomfortable with the harshness in her eyes. Damon chuckled alongside her. Stefan tore his cautious gaze away from her and raised the scotch glass to his mouth. "Interesting time to be drinking." 

      "I can't seem to rid myself of you both. What else am I supposed to do, besides go about living my life?"

      She rolled her eyes, applying her earrings. "Enough with the theatrics. You're dead, it's really time for you and your whiney attitude to move on." She smoothed down the fabric of her dress and fixed the loose strands of her hair. "Besides, being a vampire isn't as bad as you make it seem." Of course, she had no way of knowing if that was actually true, but she imagined it might've been slightly better than everyone made it appear.

      Standing from his chair, Stefan exhaled slowly. "Yes, being a 150-year old teenager has been the height of my happiness."

      Damon turned and looked at his brother with an amused perplexed expression. "You cracked a funny, Stefan. I should have a drink and celebrate." He grabbed an empty scotch glass and lithely walked to the table where the scotch was placed. There laid the old and faded photograph of their fallen love. With a faint smile, Damon examined the picture with soft eyes. "1864. You and Katherine were the perfect couple. It was hell watching you dance with her."

      Gwyn analyzed the younger brother with careful eyes. Something was wrong. "My happiness was short-lived, as you well know."

      "I remember," Damon said, "I left the party early, I was waiting for her. That night you dropped her off, I was waiting just inside. You were such a gentleman, gave her a kiss on the cheek. And what she really wanted was..." He trailed off, popping the scotch bottle open. "Oh, well. Here's to history repeating itself." 

      As Damon brought the ornate glass to his lips, Gwyn easily moved the container with a small motion of her hand, unimpressed gaze watching as the cup crashed to the carpeted floor with a thud. Damon looked confused as he glanced at the scotch-soaked carpet. "If you're going to spike the bottle with vervain, next time don't do it with a telepathic witch in the room." Upon realization, he smirked, somewhat proud of his side-kick witch. "You can't beat us, Stefan. Who knows what the vampire with a drinking problem and short-temper and the power-hungry witch will do at this party."

<<>>

      The sunlight brought warmth to everyone's multi-colored auras, each modestly hued with a golden glimmer. She inhaled the fresh breeze of the Lockwood Mansion, smelling the green-tinted pond behind the home and the meals that were prepped in the kitchen. Moving through the indistinct conversations and crowds, Gwyn interlaced her arm with the older Salvatore brother. They ascended the grey-painted porch steps and broadened doors and ultimately came to pause. Gwyn raised an eyebrow as she examined the evident opulence of the home, openly brandished for everyone with envious gazes to admire. This home and the people chattering inside it reeked of elitist wealth. "Gwyn," Damon said, gathering her attention from the gold vases decorated around the porch. He wordlessly motioned to the doorframe, insinuating that he needed to be invited inside.

      With a small flick of her arm, she could feel the surge of brief power course through her as she commanded Mrs. Lockwood to approach. "Gwyndolyn, you look dashing. Please come in." The older woman said, a dazzling smile on her lips. Gwyn didn't bother reciprocating the facade, she didn't know Mrs. Lockwood personally, she might've spoken with her once when her father used to attend these outings. 

      Damon entered beside her, snickering as he looked down at her. "Your full name is Gwyndolyn?" Her hardened stare remained ahead, searching for the display room. She made a small gesture, nearly imperceptible, and Damon unpleasantly groaned in pain as Gwyn ruthlessly used a simple spell to fiddle with his heart, applying the slightest bit of pressure. "Sensitive topic then." And they continued onward.

<<>>

      Nightfall arrived with a cloak of coldness and Gwyn was beginning to despise the overwhelming warmth of everyone inside the Lockwood mansion. She chose to abandon the older Salvatore brother for the remainder of the night. His commentary, though humorous at times, brought exhaustion over her and they still weren't any closer to taking the crystal from wherever his hidden area was. 

      Gwyn stepped outside, inhaling a large breath as she descended the polished stone steps. As she closed her eyes, relishing the momentary sense of relaxation, a wave of faint energy crashed against her. Her eyes opened, slightly blurred but fully aware of the other witch in the vicinity. She could sense her—her small waves of power barely radiating from her mystical essence. Gwyn followed the energy trail with a concentrated expression. She disregarded the strange stares she earned as she carelessly pushed through the talking crowds, occasionally declaring a string of profanities along the way. It wasn't as easy as she expected considering how weak she was. 

      She came across the timid teenager sitting alone, eyes focused intently on an extinguished flame from a candle. She was normal; hardly anything out of the ordinary. Some time passed before she ignited the flame once again, her aura hurriedly transforming into a misty grey. She blew out the flame with a large puff, seemingly afraid of her own actions. "There's nothing to be afraid of," Gwyn said, examining the swirls of dull smoke. "It's only a little fire." The smoke trailed towards Gwyn's direction, a hazy vortex beckoned by distinct power. 

      Bonnie tore her gaze from the extinguished flame, appearing shocked from the sudden arrival of this woman. She hadn't seen her before, but she somehow still felt familiar. She reminded Bonnie of the feeling of barely remembering the hymn of a forgotten tune; on the tip of your tongue but still indistinguishable. As if there was some blurred connection between them. The woman's stone-cold expression didn't falter as she crossed her arms and stared back into Bonnie relentlessly. Whoever she was, she oozed of strange energy that Bonnie couldn't explain. "Who are you?" Bonnie didn't mean to sound snotty, but this woman also appeared unbearably arrogant.

      "Gwyn," She said, the corners of her mouth turning upward, cold and distant. "And power isn't something to be scared of. You need it in this shitty town." Gwyn continued onward with her stroll, leaving the air heavy with mysticism. Bonnie stood from her chair hurriedly, nearly knocking it over in the process. She followed after her. 

      "What's that supposed to mean?"

      Gwyn narrowed her eyes. "Am I speaking archaic Latin or something?" Her tone was harsh, mocking. Bonnie recoiled. "It means exactly what I said. This town is full of stupid shit that's just waiting in the shadows to come to bite you in the neck. Quite literally."

      Bonnie stumbled beside her as they walked over the damp grass path to the lake. "And what? Lighting a candle will save me?" 

      "No, dumbass, but knowing how to use your abilities will. Right now, you and your candle-lighting ability are useless. You need practice or you're going to die. Talk to your grandma, become useful, then come back to me." Gwyn smiled, but it was malicious. "You're gonna need me, Bonnie Bennett." And with that, Gwyn turned on her heel and carried on, each and every candle alight were blown out as she walked by.

      "How do you know my name?"

      Gwyn didn't bother turning. "Abilities, remember?"