Ｋｌａｕｓ Ｍｉｋａｅｌｓｏｎ

you’re  every  bit  the  abomination  I  am…

Words that Elijah himself had said in his head every day. Images of his deeds as said abomination. A constant stain on his aura, following him through every walk of life he took. But no matter how much control he acquired. No matter the every going patience he held – allowing himself time to learn and grow. To understand this world and how he now walked on the face of this earth. that fact was still there, of what he was, what he would always be.  an abomination.  “How good it is Niklaus, it is we have you to remind us.” words spoken through clenched teeth,. adjusting his sleeves. looking anywhere he could but towards his brother. a brother he loved and hated often times in equal measure. he was good at this, good at pushing people away. but it was a trick that Elijah grew accustomed to over the years. he would push just enough. just enough to keep you from loving him too much. but never so much that you wrote him off. And how could they? Niklaus might not love him– or maybe he did– in some twisted version in his mind. but they were family, blood. They often let him get away with worse. other people had the luxury of hating Nik with little or no remorse for doing so. Elijah, his siblings. That hate ebbed and flowed. Anger rising and falling with the tide. It didn’t make it easier to be on his side, but they were… he was.  This perhaps would be all their undoing, being tied to someone that shows so little disregard to anyone’s wants and desires: that weren’t his own.  “What we are, isn’t all we are. You want us to project an image: an image you have of yourself. But we crave more, not just power over our enemies. but a life. To live” Elijah reached for his flask taking a long pull from it.  “You may poke fun at my morality, or Rebekah’s nearest towards a more human instance, even Kol’s own perpetual need to feed his own inner abomination. But we didn’t ask for you to be the person we blame.” a stony gaze fell on him. Klaus, the brother he fought for, a brother he tried to protect: even at his worst. There was no mistaking the look of disappointment but also resilience. A refusal to allow his words to grate on him, to change the course  Elijah was currently on.

 “All we wanted was our brother back… but you’ve made that quite impossible, How vexing it must be for you brother. To know your own unhappiness is of your making– no matter how you might try and spin it.” 

good  seemed  so  D E R E L I C T  now:   that  beneath  his  plights  of  deflection,  to  hide  from  the  very  beast  that  remained  reflected  back  in  every  specular  surface...as  if  by  the  sheer  force  of  nature  he  was  to  be  his  own  undoing --  his  own  enemy.  a dagger  of  emotions  penetrating  every  artery  until  he’d  bleed  out  in  nothing  but  truth  (  if  only  the  world  was  so  kind  ). 

it  was  in  the  silences  between  conversing  that  he  felt  the  pensive  sting  of  his  humanity,  aching  for  the  man  who’d  have  despised  such  NARCISSISTIC  measures.  that  in  his  games  and  ploys  of  power,  he’d  had  as  much  of  a  hand  in  the  beasts  his  siblings  could  be...just  as  their  parents  had  on  him.  

IN  THE  END,  HE’D  ALWAYS  HATE  HIMSELF  FOR  IT.  

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫: @cfclaws​ 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞:  outside of whitmore.

tresses  of  radiant  gold  gently  waver  through  the  midnight  air  ,  the  moons  beaming  it’s  boisterous  light  just  beyond  the  tree-scaped  mountainside  ,  and  the  stars  are  clear  ,    BRIGHT  .  it  was  a  breathtaking  night.  everything  so  uncannily  picturesque  and  the  ONLY  thing  that  rasps  &  slithers  through  each  crevice  of  her  melancholy  brain  was  comprised  of  guilt.  it  was  HER    party  that  everyone  went  to  that  night  ,  SHE  planned  &  perfected  the  most  amazing  time  for  everyone  and  somehow  —–  SOMEHOW  something  always  has  to  go  wrong.  all  she  wanted  to  do  was  give  this  town  some  FUN.  

worry  lines  outstretch  the  contingent  seams  of  her  expression  ,  a  nimble  finger  etches  just  along  the  plump  underside  of  her  lip  in  form  of  COMFORT.  this  sucks.  all  day  she’s  had  such  a  BRAVE  face  ,  smiling  for  people  &  waving  friendly  waves.  REASSURING.  doing  the  right  thing.  it  was  exhausting.  slow  strides  pace  around  the  large  campus  apartments  as  sleep  evades.  eager  steps  take  her  further  out  more  ,  shying  away  from  anything  and  everything.

“ i don’t know how i’m supposed to fix this. “

in  silences  he’d  find  himself   P L A G U E D:  searching  for  moments  or  the  very  epitome  of  poetry  to  paint  because  that  was  his  only  CONTROL  --  to  demand  the  direction  of  a  paint  brush  and  see  that  his  demons  (  at  least  for  a  little  while  )  tuck  themselves  away  in  a  corner...awaiting  the  very  moment  the  brush  stops  moving. 

it  is  almost  as  if  his  life  could  be  told  through  each  canvas.  that  it’s  darker  tones,  contradict  the  very  light  nature  in  which  he’d  chosen  to  paint  as  a  child  --  untainted  by  the  harshness  of  the  world  and  in  ways  he  was  certain  his  siblings  longed  to  have  back.

BUT  THAT  BOY  WAS  DEAD. 

killed  by  cruelty  and  the  poison  that  sprouted  from  his  very  conception;  that  was  the  secret.  that  he  may  paint  the  illusion  of  seeing  himself  as  a  king,  as  someone  to  be  envied  BUT  he’d  labelled  himself  an  abomination  long  before  anyone  else  had  thought  of  the  word.

it’s  unfamiliar  tones  that  bring  him  from  his  mind.  daring  to  turn  his  head  for  a  moment,  calculate  who  and  what  this  interaction  was  going  to  be;  he’d  admit  it  was  unexpected  --  it  was  rare  for  most  to  approach  him  with  such  trivial  topics,  most  wanted  something  or  had  something  to  gain. THIS  WAS  REFRESHING. 

“ 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐒.  𝐈 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐄𝐗𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄.”  

And he did, though he was sure that his brother with scrounge up ‘evidence’ to convince him otherwise. Because the man he was today, wasn’t the same man he had grown up with. Protected, and advised to the best of his ability. The man he was today was— broken in some ways. Not that any outsider of the Mikaelson clan would agree. Even his own siblings might find it hard to believe. Because in his quest for power, in his attempts to cut out every ounce of ‘weakness’ a monster arose. And perhaps this too was too harsh a title. After all he was what their parents had made him– to an extent.  𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒. When the trust between them was genuine. And not this thin veil that laced their words. Innuendos and platitudes exchanged not as siblings. But oftentimes as two men on opposite ends of a room. Looking to strike the first blow.  Trust wasn’t something that was easily won—Elijah had given his trust to him. Too often to count and each time he was met with the end of a dagger. Thrown into the pitch; the world moving around him.  Left to listen and wait till such a time as Niklaus deemed fit. Elijah told him, that he had daggered him for the last time.  And he was nothing if not a man of his word. 

𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐊𝐎𝐋, the backs of his molars grind. But he said nothing, he would find his other homicidal brother later. See if he was alright, Dark eyes gaged the smirk on Nik’s face —was he in a good mood then? Best to keep it that way. Or at the very least, reassure him that there was no ill will.  “ Can you blame him; when you treat him and the rest of us like derelicts Niklaus.” he mussed. A bored expression taking hold of his features— “ I will not squander my newfound freedom in a feeble attempt to end your, life brother, “ his gaze met Niklaus a hint of a smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. “ Though, I take it as a compliment that you would think me capable. I see you are still as paranoid as ever. You may want to look into that brother. Less it be your undoing.” 

it  was  in  quieter  moments...that  he  remained  H A U N T E D  by  his  humanity:  remembering  an  older  brother  with  no  facades  or  suits  but  rather  eye’s  that  took  him  back  to  his  childhood.  he’d  admit  that,  perhaps,  this  had  been  his  downfall  for  TOO  LONG  --  recalling  a  brother  he’d  sought  comfort  from  when  their  father  had  nothing  but  cruel  words  to  gift  him  with  because  he  craved  a  father  who  cared  (  reflected  only  in  the  actions  of  the  older  ). 

IT  WAS  POETIC  IRONY. 

the  way  the  full  circle  moments  came  in  with  the  tide.  how  his  brother’s  disappointment  and  distaste  stung  like  very  dagger  he’d  become  so  accustomed  to  using  on  them  THOUGH  were  most  would  seek  to  atone,  he  could  only  make  worse;  dancing  upon  the  flames  that  burned  the  very  tethers  of  bonds  that  bound  them  as  siblings  --  it  wasn’t  because  he  didn’t  care  for  them  but  rather...HE  CARED  TOO  MUCH. 

I  was  angry  with  my  foe:  I  told  it  not,  my  wrath  did  grow.

they  had  become  his  opposite:  that  they  should  remain  the  very  premise  of  everything  the  hybrid  hated,  conceptualised  into  one  organisation  (  though  he’d  debate  they  were  something  far  closer  to  a  cult  ).  perhaps  if  their  paths  had  been  laid  differently,  their  hands  would  not  ball  into  fists  but  rather  relax  --  they  were  all  one  and  the  same,  were  they  not  ?  the  oldest  creatures  on  the  earth. 

he’d  found  comfort  in  their  distance.  that  until  this  very  moment,  he’d  been  at  ease  with  the  mere  idea,  that  his  plans  would  fall  into  place  without  any  attempts  to  interfere  from  those  who  were  all  too  comfortable  with  the  giant  rod  they’d  wedged  up  their  arse. 

BUT  HE  HAD  SOMETHING  OVER  THEM. 

regardless  of  rumors,  they  didn’t  know  the  finer  details.  making  it  all  too  easy  for  the  hybrid  to  play  his  part,   to  claim  to  be  a  puppet  on  invisible  tethered  strings  as  if  his  recklessness  is  all  but  the  truth  and  not  a  facade  to  hide  the  chess  board.  

there  had  always  been  something  he  found  A K I N  to  himself  in  the  young  vampire:  that  certainly  before  the  great  RIPPER  had  amended  his  ways  and  joined  those  so...inapt  to  evolution  and  pleasures,  he’d  found  himself  --  for  the  first  time  in  centuries  --  genuinely  enjoying  the  company  of  another   though  like  most  good  things,  it  could  last  (  having  to  be  compelled  away.  so  mikael  would  not  force  an  ally  in  an  old  friend  ). 

EVERYTHING  COULD  BE  USED  AGAINST  HIM. 

he  could  only  find  it  so...AMUSING  now.  that  despite  his  invulnerability,  his  fears... that  laid  buried  so  deep  within  a  thousand  years  of  being  the  ABOMINATION,  remained  as  loud  as  they’d  always  been  --  though  he’d  deny  them  all  to  keep  up  his  facades. 

“  the  ripper  of  monterey...  ”  he  speaks  with  such  ease,  as  if  stating  their  solidarity  hidden  between  a  facade  of  nothing  more  that  tactics  to  back  those  that  could  cause  him  (  momentary  )  issues,  into  a  corner.  “  though,  I  suppose...it’s  just  stefan  now  --  boring  isn’t  it  ?  ”  brow  raised,  pacing  for  a  brief  moment  until  he  perches  himself  against  the  nearest  wall.  “  always  so  much  easier  when  you  don’t  care  about  anything;  take  it  from  me...stefan.  you’ll  find  all  of  this  far  more  easy,  if  you  just  turn  it  all  off.  ”  a  hypocrite  ?  yes.  klaus  may  appear  unaring  and  volatile  but  every  act  he  performed  was  steeped  in  emotions  --  he’d  always  just  be  the  angry  child  screaming  out  for  acceptance.  for  something  he  could  hold  onto...

closed starter ,   ft  .  klaus mikaelson  ,  @cfclaws​

      𝐉𝐄𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐑 𝐇𝐘𝐃𝐄?There was never telling which version you would be met with when it came to niklaus. for a time, at least in part– elijah had grown accustomed to the wide shifts and swings of his mood. understanding the kind of weight that must bare down on him constantly. an understanding ebbed away since the last daggering he’d undergone. it didn’t last nearly as long as elijah had anticipated, but the rising from his deep slumber allowed the elder brother to think on some things. allow him time to plan and upon his wakening– execute a rediscovery of things he’s long since thought he’d left behind… 

      𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐊𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐒, 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘.when they ran from mikael. elijah left his own sanctuary to follow. because they were stronger together. now, there was no telling what klaus was thinking or planning. and elijah needed to— at the very least. get an idea of how his brother’s mind worked these days. even if only to glimpse it. 

       𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐍𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐈𝐑𝐂𝐋𝐄.  outside of his family did. he did want to keep an eye on things even if it was at a distance. so it did surprise him to find niklaus wandering about among the living. without a mess of bodies in his wake. at least, not yet.

         ❞𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐒,❞ tone cordial and  tense. not at all how he they use too great each other, days long since passed.  “didn’t expect to see you joining in the festivities.”  reaching for the flask in his jacket pocket– for there was no way he would drink the sewage that the youth of this down seemed to guzzle down with ease. elijah took a long pull before offering the metal container to his brother. “ and unsullied by spilled blood. turning over a new lease on life ?” 

trust  was  as  F R A G I L E  as  the  very  walls  that  surrounded  his  wrath;  so  long  ago  now  --  or  so  it  felt  --   the  elder  had  been  his  greatest  confidant.  that  regardless  of  ill  temperaments  and  wily  choices,  the  very  slither  of  trust  he’d  reserved  for  family,  had  for  too  long  been  placed  in  the  grasp  of  his  elder  (  if  only  a  sign  of  weakness  ).  

LOVE  IS  WEAKNESS. 

and  in  the  same  regards,  family  had  proven  to  be  the  same  though  to  allow  his  demons  to  be  right  --  to  let  himself  be  caged  alone  as  if  nothing  more  than  lucifer,  dismissed  by  those  he  called  siblings  --  was  a  venture  his  STUBBORNNESS  and  fear,  refused  to  venture  into. 

stiffened  limbs  relaxed  in  conjunction  of  a  poor  joke,  breath  sooths  in  and  out  past  warm  petaled  tiers  &  the  looming  glow  of  crimson  brightens  a  shade  or  two,  making  everything  feel  —  more  stupid.  fear  turns  more  of  devastation  ,  beady   and  sweet  a  thankful  nod  towards  him.  he’s  not  angry.  that’s  the  good  thing.  the  crack  of  saliva  sounds  with  a  thick  swallow  ,  nerves  twinkling  like  little  blades  throughout  the  silhouette  that’s  inhibited  something  daunting  felt  calming  but  alert.  the  offer  of  her  sweater  slowly  falls,  hugging  the  fabric  close  to  her  chest,  “  so  it  has  jokes  ,  very  funny.  ”  a  finger  lazily  points  ,  bella   tilting  her  head  ,  a  pronounced    quirk  of  bemusement  rests   on  her  complexion.

“  i’m  bella  ,  and  the  person  who  assaulted  you  tonight  , —–  “  a  palm  extends  ,  while  the   other  bounces   the   fabric  that  was  nestled  between  ,  trying  to   balance   it   but   the   distribution  was  off  ,  the  sweater  tumbling  out  of  her  arm  to  the  ground.  eyes  fall  with  it  ,  peircing   glance  to  the  ground  ,  almost   having  the  near   nerve   to   just   kick   the   damn  thing  ,  her  gaze  finding  it’s   way   back   up   to   his .  “   pleasure   meeting   you  .  “

there’s  a  certain  trick  to  such  M A U D L I N  vices:   as  if  pasted  between  poetry  was  the  secret  to  true  purpose  and  true  guise  --  that  he  should  find  himself  BATHING  in  the  act  for  both  his  own  amusement  and  for  the  sheer  force  to  have  something  to  use  later  (  it  was  always  better  to  know  all  of  the  faces  in  the  town  that  would  be  his  ). 

“  hilarious,  i’ll  have  you  find  love.  ”  words  seeming  laced  in  something  light,  though  evasively  purposeful  to  induce  comfort  to  produce  an  atmosphere  where  her  mouth  may  just  become  as  clumsy  as  the  rest  of  her  (  in  whatever  sense  it  should  present  ). 

he  prided  himself  on  his  reserve  ,  in  fact  .  kol  had  remained  contained  ,  enough  to  go  almost  entirely  unnoticed  .  it  seemed  the  best  route  ,  in  some  ways  .  the  ensuing  battle  had  no  pleasure  for  him  ,  whether  or  not  a  side  ended  up  seeking  victory  .  he  cared  for  none  of  it  .  this  containment  is  faced  with  it’s  greatest  challenge  ,  if  steam  could  pour  from  his  ears  ,  it  would  ,  in  this  very  second  .  kol  cared  for  nothing  .  in  a  way  ,  this  was  a  great  blessing  .  one  that  forced  the  drsire  to  lunge  –  like  a  wild  animal  ,  going  for  the  throat  .  he  stands  his  ground  ,  a  chilling  gaze  cast  at  the  man  as  it  veers  to  the  ground  .  it  would  surely  cause  a  scene  ,  as  soon  as  the  next  group  came  across  it  .  

“  i  don’t  indulge  in  cowardly  techniques  .  ”  kol  speaks  through  gritted  teeth  ,  his  dark  eyes  a  painful  contrast  to  his  face  .  "  nothing  gained  with  no  fight  from  the  prey  .  "  he  remarks  ,  unable  to  have  a  hold  on  the  rich  attitude  that  tangled  itself  in  his  words  .  "  not  that  you  know  anything  of  that  .  cowardice  is  your  virtue  .  "

he’d  remain  the  E P I T O M E  of  chaos  until  his  last  ruthless  breath:  as  if  tied  to  the  very  fabric  that  kept  his  dna  stitched  together,  he’d  ALWAYS  feel  a  certain  burn  in  his  chest.  that  those  closest  to  him  were  as  volatile  in  their  abandoning  habits  as  most  in  his  life  had  been  -- it  just  so  happened  that  his  spirits  were  a  little  higher...enough  to  not  feel  the  need  to  pull  such  violent  extremes  (  however  tempting  they  remained  ). 

a  quick  flash  of  his  watch  had  alerted  him  to  the  time  ,  it  was  late  .  the  darkened  sky  above  only  seeming  to  confirm  it  .  time  had  meant  nothing  to  the  man  ,  he  believed  that  this  opinion  had  stemmed  from  the  immortality  .  one  never  needed  to  worry  about  the  passage  of  time  when  it  seemed  to  flow  around  them  ,  passing  them  like  a  lodged  rock  in  a  stream  .  though  ,  it  was  late  enough  .  as  those  present  at  the  weekly  beach  party  had  begun  to  depart  .  waves  of  young  adults  had  started  their  return  from  the  beach  ,  which  still  had  a  lingering  flame  licking  up  from  behind  the  grass  that  enclosed  it  .  the  litter  of  dark  red  solo  cups  ,  some  still  containing  the  stench  of  their  liquor  would  soon  be  the  only  remnants .

other  than  a  smokey,  smoldering  fire  .  there’s  an  intersection  ,  forcing  kol  to  hastily  separate  the  crowd  to  cross  his  own  path  .  the  annoyance  so  proudly  displayed  in  his  features  that  it  only  grew  more  vicious  as  one  person  fell  behind  the  group  .  standing  directly  in  his  crossing  ,  and  forcing  the  man  to  come  to  a  complete  stop  .  "  excuse  me  ?  "  kol  begins  ,  his  accent  giving  a  more  charming  flow  than  his  tone  would  have  meant  for  .  "  i  believe  you’re  blocking  my  way  .  "

he  had  never  took  D E L I G H T  in  punishing  his  siblings:  that  over  the  decades  and  long  centuries,  the  need  had  merely  built  itself  up  and  dug  itself  into  the  fabric  of  everything  he  had  become.  the  further  they  tried  to  go,  the  worse  the  punishment  --  did  they  not  know  the  RULES  of  always  and  forever  ?  though  he’d  admit  his  younger  brother  had  certainly  felt  some  of  the  harsher  punishments;  to  be  a  victim  to  the  blade  of  papa  tunde  was  almost  certainly  one  he’d  do  better  not  forgetting  (  perhaps  it’d  be  the  kick  the  younger  needed  to  get  his  shit  sorted  ). 

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 : open 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 : by the falls @ the bonfire !

  thoughts  were  endless  ,  spewing  back  and  forth  between  a  fantasy  where  life  was  much  more  definite  ,  quiet  ,    and  the  rather  aggressive    and  unenticing  reality  of  drunk  &  horny  mere  adults  mingling  around  with  frivolous  intentions  ;  sharp  teeth  &  famished  stares.  there  had  to  be  something  better  right  ?  the  stars  were  so  bright  at  this  point  of  the  night  ,  glistening  the  night  time  sky  with  beauty  ,  beady    brown  eyes  peer  up  towards  the  night  sky  completely  in  awe  of  how  even    though  it  was  precisely  11:32  pm  the  stars  &  planets  lit  the  sky  bright  as  ever  and  made  the  it  possible  to  see  through  the  hazy  clouds  above.  

  &  of    course  each  step  was  just  another  misstep  ,  wandering  eyes  and  macilent  fingers  clasped  gingerly  around  the  beer  she’d  been  nursing.  every  step  against  the  crisp  ground  heavily  unaware  of  anyone  around  ,  without  any  concern  in  the  world  /  she  couldn’t  help  it  ,  in  a   complete  world  of  her  own  /  she  collapses  into  what  she  would  describe  the  manliest  wall  she’d  ever  seen.  the  acrid  scent  of  beer  spews  &  resentfulness  gathers  in  furrowed  brows  as  cheeks  grow  tinged  with  red.  “  i’m  so  fucking  dumb  —  i’m  so  sorry  please  ,  let  me  help  you    i  —-  ”  lithe  digits  curl  over  her  sweater  ,  rising  it  over  her  head  as  she  offered  it  to  the  victim  of  her  mindlessness.

his  life  often  remains  fuelled  by   U R G E N C Y:   by  the  blinding  paranoia  that  remains  sewn  into  his  being,  that  even  his  closest  kin  had  been  unable  to  rout  as  if  tugging  on  threads  woven  in  wolfsbane.  to  fraught  with  the  long  centuries,  he’d  embedded  himself  in  crafts  to  mirror  the  very  solace  of  his  human  life  though  that  too  became  soiled  (  ruined  by  all  the  blood  that  stained  every  canvas  ). 

every  movement  is  done  with  PURPOSE.  standing  so  still...that  only  those  akin  to  an  immortal  breathing  pattern  would  relish  in  his  presence;  to  find  consternation  in  his  being.  eye’s  glued  to  the  movement  his  thumb  had  begun  to  make  around  the  edge  of  his  glass.  he’d  been  contemplating  his  next  move  --  eye’s  so  dark  one  so  adept  could  only  assume  the  worst. 

-Ｎｉｋｌａｕｓ   Ｍｉｋａｅｌｓｏｎ -  Original  Hybrid