…they are E Q U A L S in every way. And they both know it. Caroline knows Klaus is a physical monolith against her soft beach sand, and Klaus knows Caroline is the L’Arc de Triomphe of emotional power over his house of cards. She is as naive as he is immature. He is as mature as she is wise, and tried, and true. She is as kind as he is cruel, he is as honest as she is deceptive. She pulls when she pushes, he pushes when she pulls.
She is stubborn as he is obstinate, he is pliant as she is eroded. They like being strong, ageless, fearless. They grew up second to dopplegangers, both of them, they both asked themselves a million and one times on the VERY SAME indian trails in the land that would once be called Mystic Falls, do you ever feel like there’s not a person in the world who loves you—?
They were cast off by their mothers, told they were monsters by their fathers. And Caroline, little Caroline of barely a fortnight of years has mastered them, at least I let my father go without regrets. And Klaus, ancient Klaus who looks only to the wind and rocks for contemporaries, has plummeted into the depths of ignorance.
They both have tried, and tried, and tried to build families out of friends, out of acquaintances, out of people who already have loved ones— to be loyal and true to these surrogate families because their own has let them fall through the wire.
Caroline is life, so death crawls to her — aching and yearning for the lesson of youth.
Klaus is death, so life clings to him — spitting and sparring for the secret to the ages.
They are THE S A M E. They need one another. They are balance and HATE and love but R E S P E C T for equal power in equal time most importantly and FOREMOST.