self_inflictedexhile | tvd / nysm } { the salvatore school for the young and gifted

Nestled just on the outskirts of the tiny town of Mystic Falls, Virginia is the Salvatore School for the Young and Gifted. As far as most of the town is concerned, the school is exactly how it's marketed - a boarding school for rich and gifted students - but a few are aware of it's real origins.

A school for young supernatural students, so that they can grow up somewhere where they didn't have to hide.

The headmaster is actually much older than she looks, having not aged a day since she was seventeen, but she's learned to dress herself up to fit the part. Her long hair is swept up into an elegant twist, her pant suit is perfect and polished, and her makeup is appropriately adult. Still, there's not a lot that can hide the youthfulness of her features no matter how hard she tries.

She's standing at the front of the school, watching as the car pulls up in front before flashing the man who arrives a bright smile and wave. Once he emerges from the car, she waves and makes her way closer to shake his hand.

"Mr. Rhodes. Welcome to the Salvatore School."

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Her parents would consider just existing and living her life worth it. Hope is the one who's the overachiever here. In fact, her father only wants her to find peace, but she's not really sure that's ever going to be possible.

She nods with a small smile. "That's what Ms. Tig says too. The guidance counselor."

Dylan snorts, not sure how he feels about being compared to a guidance counselor, of all people. Despite that, though, after a beat, he shrugs. "She's not wrong. Most people -- most parents just wanna see their kids happy and healthy."

She's amused at his response, to say the least, but she nods in acknowledgement because he's not wrong. "Yeah, I know. My mom especially wouldn't want me taking all of this on my shoulders. But I guess part of me still feels like I have something to prove."

Don't all teenagers? Turns out they both get to be amused by the other. He, too, nods in response, however, before he promises, "You'll get there."

He takes a moment following to study her, that said, and then, after a surreptitious glance towards the door and at length, offers, "Keep another secret?" A real secret, not just some story about his father.

She raises an eyebrow because she can sense a different tenor to this secret. Something that makes it real, and not just him telling her stuff that's easy to find.

"Sure. I'm like a vault."

For all that he wasn't sure he was going to give this one away so easily, a few minutes ago, something's made him rethink that -- maybe it's the fact that he wants Hope to really understand that he's not just blowing smoke up her ass. Maybe it because he needs her to know she's really not alone, that he's not that out of touch, trying to match their experiences up when they're nothing alike. He understands better than she thinks, and that in mind, after a second more of hesitation, he holds a hand out in front of him, palm up, dramatically.

Nodding to his fingers, the gesture largely for show -- nothing up his sleeve -- he curls his hand into a fist. He holds there for a beat, the feel of magic wrapping around him, at odds with the fact that he's supposedly just a werewolf, not a witch, and when he opens his hand again, there's a fireball sitting in his palm. He smiles at it, her, the expression soft.

"You're not the only one who gets what it's like to kinda -- kinda be a child of two worlds or whatever." He may not be vampire, too, on top of witch and werewolf, but still.

Technically Hope's not a vampire yet either. She has to die for that to happen, and she's not looking to do that anytime soon. There are some fringe benefits, like healing, but none of the downsides, like having to feed on human blood and being dead.

That being said, her eyes still widen when she sees him do magic. It's hard not to feel that kind of kinship, even without them being family.

"How? Were one of your parents a witch or something?"

Dylan shakes his head, albeit faintly. "My dad was like me. Like this."

A werewolf who could do magic. He nods to the fireball, still in hand, before closing his fingers around it, dousing it. As he leans back into the desk again, he continues, "The pack we both belonged to? We, uh -- we might've figured out how to reclaim our magic."

"Huh."

In some ways it makes sense. The original seven werewolf bloodlines were witches too. The stripping of their magic was part of their curse. But there's something about seeing him do it that makes her feel a little less alone.

"Honestly, I'm not sure any of the wolves here would want magic on top of everything else, but ... that's kind of cool. That there were packs out there that managed to figure it out."

"Probably not, but -- " But there are plenty of adult werewolves who might just be power hungry enough to start kidnapping people from the Eye, if and when they found out they'd reclaimed their magic. But there are plenty of witches or vampires who would see them as threats, having their magic back, and start putting them down, one by one. But " -- but you can see why we keep it a secret."

He hopes.

She nods. If anyone understands secrets it's Hope Mikaelson. "I'll keep it to myself." She rubs one arm gently, before tipping her head to the side. "But do you think it would be okay if I met them sometime?"

Dylan's quick to pop one shoulder in a shrug.

He might have to sell them on the fact that she's a Mikaelson, considering her father is the literal bogeyman, but it'll be worth it, he thinks. She could use a whole group of people, who understand what it's like to be the children of two worlds. They could use the chance to get to know her, who's as much supernatural royalty as he is, if not more so -- they could use the chance to get to know the future of the community.

"I don't see why not," he tells her, that in mind. "We'll have to work something out, with school and everything, but." But he can introduce her to the Horsemen or take her by the Archives or both.

She knows the fact that she's a Mikaelson could have been an issue, but she's hoping that making friends in these places might help indicate that she's not her father. She may share his rage and some of his darkness, but she's doing her best to control it and do better.

To be the hero, not the villain.

"I don't always go home for breaks. Christmas is out because Aunt Freya will kill me if I miss the Christmas bonfire, but spring break or summer I can do."

"Yeah, Christmas is off the table for me, too." Christmas is his favorite holiday, that something his father's death didn't take from him, surprisingly. He'd like to spend it with his family, with the Horsemen.

"Spring break might be good, though?" he continues after a moment of thought. "There's usually something going on, with us, that I could drag you along to." There's usually some kind of pack activity she might enjoy.

She nods, because that works. She it'll be nice to take a break from the usual spring break of hanging out by herself at school. "I'll let my aunt know. See what she says."

She's sure it'll be fine. She'll likely be curious about the pack as well, even if Hope won't tell Freya all their secrets.

"Lemme know," Dylan says with a nod of his own. "I'll be around, whenever." As long as Hope lets him know at any point before spring break, no rush.

In the meantime, though, "And, uh -- I should probably let you get going, huh?" To whatever she has to do, after this. He didn't mean to keep her here, after class, as long as he did, never mind the fact that he wasn't the one that approached her in the first place.

"Right. Yeah, I should probably get to class." She then offers up a small smile as she turns to head out the door. "But thanks. For the talk."

And with that, she will leave him to prep for his next class.

tvd / nysm } { the salvatore school for the young and gifted

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