[Rebekah wasn't sure what she was expecting exactly. The memories of the dream Wonderland -- the possible future or whatever it might really be -- were fresh in her mind. She remembers a Victor who had been warm and tactile with her, not that the one she knows has ever been particularly cold but in the dream world there was an intimacy to his actions that they do not share here. She too wonders how much he knows about that. Perhaps her gift had been too forward, in light of all that. It wouldn't be the first time she had gone too far with a present.
She tried to buy a boy's forgiveness with a new truck, once.
But then she finds her own gift the next day and whatever worry she had melts away. Rebekah has always been incredibly sentimental, though never much of a journal writer. That's been Elena's thing. Stefan's. Elijah had kept a few through the years. Even Klaus had his version of such with his sketches and drawings. Still. Her fingers splay over the pages and she imagines filling them with her own words. Of taking pictures of her friends and loved ones and pasting them in.
Of creating tangible proof and memories in case Wonderland ever tries to take them away, a looming threat now more than ever.
She hugs the journal to her chest for a few moments debating whether she should say anything at all. It seems wrong not to, when he put so much thought into it. So finally she puts the journal down and writes out a text to him.]
no subject
She tried to buy a boy's forgiveness with a new truck, once.
But then she finds her own gift the next day and whatever worry she had melts away. Rebekah has always been incredibly sentimental, though never much of a journal writer. That's been Elena's thing. Stefan's. Elijah had kept a few through the years. Even Klaus had his version of such with his sketches and drawings. Still. Her fingers splay over the pages and she imagines filling them with her own words. Of taking pictures of her friends and loved ones and pasting them in.
Of creating tangible proof and memories in case Wonderland ever tries to take them away, a looming threat now more than ever.
She hugs the journal to her chest for a few moments debating whether she should say anything at all. It seems wrong not to, when he put so much thought into it. So finally she puts the journal down and writes out a text to him.]
thank you victor, it's beautiful
[nailed it.]