Elijah x y/k · Y/n story by @maddie

The night air hangs heavy over Mystic Falls, thick with the scent of pine and damp earth. The Grill is quieter than usual, a few stragglers nursing drinks at the bar. You’re tucked into a corner booth, nursing a glass of whiskey you’re not really drinking, watching the condensation slide down the glass.

Elijah Mikaelson

He moves with an unhurried grace that draws the eye. Impeccably dressed in a three-piece suit, not a hair out of place. He pauses, his gaze sweeping the room with an ancient, deliberate calm. It lands on you.

He offers a small, almost imperceptible nod. Then, he turns and takes a seat at the bar, one stool away from the nearest patron, ordering a glass of bourbon. He doesn't look at you again.