forgotten

  how was it that his family had slept so far from his grip? much like watching the mikaelson age fall - and the madness at which it provoked in war -  as new orleans came into new, varied power, he had watched his family disperse. all coming in and out of their predicament, in and out of their sanity. and now with the party in ruins, he chose to take solace in one of the only areas of quiet he could find. spotting another just across the way from him, wondering what it was that was causing him to exclude himself from the fun. “ waiting for it to be over? ” he inquires, over a sip of his now luke warm drink. “ or do you have people you care about here? ” // @ofhisoath 

  “ probably the work of some vengeful witch. ” if he had to guess; maybe even a curse. he wouldn’t put it past some newbie witch to curse the party out of spite, or simple ignorance of their abilities. “ someone with an arrogance or ignorance of power that’s now deciding to show the world what they’re made of. ” ever the lack of his alarmism. one would think eventually he’d start to take these events more seriously. “ you’re looking well, niece. ” alive, non-possessed. by madness or otherwise. it did sound oddly cordial, but throughout her whole ordeal they’d seemed to have lost touch. watching her spiral into the same madness that had consumed her father was distressing, to a point at which he wondered if it was why klaus had fled. that’s what all mikaelsons did at the end of the day, wasn’t it?

Between Yetis and the episode with his niece’s whereabouts, he felt as though he was thoroughly done with surprises. Taking a walk around the town, picking up a few groceries here and there (not that anything was needed but it was a welcome distraction in accordance with the strange balance he’d found). He picked up someone, or something, speeding up behind him, turning his head to the side to get a better sense of the noise. He assumed it was irrelevant before he caught side of the man in front of him. His eyes refocusing. “Henrik?” Wide eyes, examining the figure before him as though he couldn’t possibly be the man he thought he was. “My god. You look good for a man who’s been predisposed for centuries.” He was one to talk. His own smile starts, but measured. Ever distrustful. 

Picking up the sound of the bath in the background, taking a moment of pride, still, in his wife’s abilities as he offers a hand to help her up. “We would make a wonderful team of avengers.” They were well suited in that manner, as many others. Both just on the cusp of ruthless, toeing around the edge. “The first vampire appropriately inspiring the first work of Vampire literature. We were already inspiring gruesome ‘animal attacks’ in the neighbouring properties.” Ah, humankind’s resistance to believe in anything other than themselves could stifle him. “Unfortunately not.” A smile, as he considers the smile. “But I wouldn’t long to have a legacy like that after me. Human fear over humans tends to be more destructive.” And then he nods, onto more unpleasant matters once more. “We’ve checked everywhere. Already and thrice fold. Her apartment, the places she frequents, I know Klaus has been running around as though she may have gone for a midnight swim.” The alternative is an unsettling image, after all. “You and Hope are both witches. Hope under tribred specifics but is it at all possible to sense her magic?”

Eyes grow wider, having thought he knew most of his family’s lineage. He might’ve been in a box for several centuries but he was excellent at catch up. He’s not naive enough to believe the man is lying, with all the years under his belt came a certain trembling that often echoed a Mikaelson’s wake. This man seemed entirely unperturbed. “You do?” A slight nod. “Care to tell me those stories? Assuming you’re aware of who I am. And know exactly what I will do to you in glorious, graphic detail should you be lying.”

“And if anyone dare touch even a hair on your head, I would be more than content to rip them limb from limb.” The old Kol Mikaelson was still there, rage now channeled into protecting the one he loves most. “You know, it’s never been proven.” Light tease in return, engaging the idea of some mythical vampire invented by humans to plague humankind, similarly, with fear of that of difference. “Although he did make some questionable fashion choices.” Further chuckling, before he starts to nod. “I don’t think he’s quite in the state to listen to any suggestions.” A sigh, and then - “Hope is missing, love. Klaus is fearing for the worst. And I’m trying to be optimistic but the way these things usually go in our family ....” Trailing off, last recalling the death of Hope’s mother. “I’m worried she might be dead.”

At the knock at the door, and with the certainty that only few people were aware of the address of his residence with Davina, he had hope it might’ve been his niece. Opening the door with the intention of finally relieving his anxiety, when Freya came to stand before him. “Freya!” Surprised but happy smile as he opens the door further. “I should’ve assumed you’d be here. I’m fairly certain the whole family’s reunited by now.” Standing to the side to invite her in. “Come in, we can catch up. By the way, locator spell?”

“I seem to think we come from the same time.” Turning his head to the man, having overheard him. It was difficult not to, heightened senses and all. “So you don’t find the notion entirely preposterous.” A nod in gratitude, curious to continue the conversation with the man. “I’m not entirely sure on where I stand.”

“I tried calling her but - “ Pulling his phone from his pocket, he demonstrates. Dialling her number and putting the phone on speaker so his brother could hear the tone as it went on, before it registered in voicemail. With a sigh, he turned it off and put it back into his pocket. “I thought she might be here.” Looking around a final time, as though he’d missed something quintessential the first time he had. He’s, alarmingly, disappointed. “Are you worried, Klaus?”

“Part of the job description, love. We have little to fear.” As a man who had experienced death time and time over, it was the ramifications of it that caused him greater concern now. A barren life without Davina, and what his family might do. “In the midst of everything especially.”  A nod, slight smile as she says she feels fine. “We should watch out for infection. Mythical creature wounds aren’t something I thought we’d ever encounter.” The suggestion that she could turn Klaus back - make him immortal again - is attractive. “That would be ideal.” A sigh still. “But he’s always been stubborn - headstrong. And now with Hope ...” Trailing off. Tentative to use the word ‘missing’ as though that would make it real.

“You have every right.” Another chuckle as he rings out the washcloth, reaching over to grasp one of the dressings and apply it to her head. “Maybe. But you’ve have to warm up first.” Leaning over and only pressing the dressing to make it stick, sympathetic as he watches her wince. Leaning back as he notes her demeanour. “I should think in a couple of days you’ll be right as rain.” His smile fails, and his posture hunches, recalling recent events. “Discouraging.” He admits. “Niklaus is at a wits end. I’m worried he might do something drastic in his new state.”

“As though you haven’t saved me many a time.” Chuckle as he crouches down in front of her, inspecting the wound and pressing the wash cloth to it. “A hot bath can be our next order of business. It isn’t deep enough to need stitches.” Promised, as he continues to care for it. “I’m sorry I was preoccupied. I should’ve been out there with you.”

“Of course not. I’d get to you far before then.” Still reaching for a wash cloth, reassuring smile on his face as he moves it into a bath of warm water. “But not all of us have supernatural stitches in place. Let me look at it?”

“It is none of your business.” Her intentions seemed good, but he was riled. His anxiety was at a wits end. Exhaling with a rub to his eyes. “A couple of days, if you must know.” Where was his niece? “Distressing news in the family.”