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@kolmikalson
BILL SKARSGĂ RD via Instagram

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#girl who is clearly healed and doing okay
The Originals | 4x02 | No Quarter
â what do you want in exchange for it? â kol x
question prompts.
"For you to leave Alexandria, forever." Amy sighed, knowing that so long as the Odairs were around, that'd never happen. "But I'm not stupid. So all I want is for you to avoid asking me how I found out. No questions, or no deal." Henry had time travelled to the past, requiring information that Kol just so happened to need. It was the only favour she'd ever do for him. "You're lucky I hate those acolyte witches more than I hate you."
THE ORIGINALS | 2.02

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ONE SIBLING SCENE PER EPISODE: 2x11Â Brotherhood of the DamnedÂ
I know, Marcel. And I know itâs a long shot, but if I donât save you then I canât save Josh and I canât save Kol. I wouldnât be able to live with myself if something happened to you guys. (x)

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âEw." She regarded him for a moment before tilting her head in interest. "Is something going on I donât know about? Has someone exciting come to town? A new lady in your life? A dude? .. Anyone?â
âNone of the above. But itâs a delight to see that youâre taking such an interest in my personal life, darling.âÂ
BILL SKARSGĂ RD in HEMLOCK GROVE 1.07

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On the tracks. It rang alarm bells in Kolâs mind, but at least he had a location. Itâd be easier to track Finnickâs scent in the open, with the wind carrying it down the tunnel. He could be with him within minutes. âSounds to me like you were prying in business that wasnât your own,â Kol spat, although arguably, it was unjustified. Jesse had been smart enough to seek him out, decent enough, despite the punch heâd received. If it werenât for him, Kol may have gotten there too late. The thought turned his stomach, so he nodded in Jesseâs direction, a genuine sign of gratitude. âRemind me that I owe you a favour. Perhaps Iâll fix up that ghastly nose of yours, you look even more pathetic than usual.â Not a second later, he pushed Jesse out of the way, before using his enhanced speed to dash down the corridor, picturing his way outside the Nut.Â
Jesse scoffed at the response, feeling its familiarity. As they had been with Finnick, Jesseâs intentions were often pure, but, unfortunately, were also often misconstrued, and he was growing fucking tired of it. âFuck off,â he muttered, swiping at the blood that dripped down his chin with the sleeve of his jumper. With urgent matters to attend to, there was no point arguing about it right then, but it left Jesse feeling even more miserable about his current situation than he had been earlier. Right then, a favour from the vampire was the last thing he wanted, so he shrugged. âYeah, great, whatever.â But not a moment later, Jesse was being shoved again. This time, he went with the motion, sliding down the wall in defeat. ââ Fuckâs sake. Youâre welcome, asshole!â
//.
_______________________________________________________
With inconsistent meal times and no natural daylight, Finnick was finding it impossible to work out how long it had been since Kol had been returned to him. Itâd been long enough that the Victor had laid down again, attempting to preserve some energy. Since being back in the Capitol, simply existing was enough to zap him of any strength. Add on an ongoing argument with his brother and Finnick was surprised he hadnât passed out from exhaustion altogether. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldnât seem to find sleep that day, unfocused gaze constantly darting between the ceiling, Kol, and the guards doing their rounds. He recognised which of them were on their side, but he never spoke to them, paranoid enough to believe any interaction would be a risk.Â
Kolâs hoarse voice broke the silence and Finnick jumped, startled from his daze. Eyes snapping straight back onto his brother, he lifted his head to get a better view, his heart wrenching in his chest at the sight. Somehow, he looked even worse than he had only a few hours ago.
After their earlier argument, Kol had made his decision on the matter clear, so the pair were still on opposite sides of the cell. But hatred and desperation sunk in once more as Finnâs gaze took in the grey hue of the vampireâs skin, the protruding veins. He was truly bewildered as to why Kol wouldnât let him help, especially when he was the only one that could. It wasnât like any of the others would offer themselves up, and especially not with the little strength they had left.
âLike Iâve said fifty times already, you just have to ask.â Finn attempted to speak quietly, but couldnât help the urgency and frustration in his tone. Depriving Kol of blood was obviously intentional, and Finnick assumed Coin wanted the vampire to drink from him, hence why theyâd been placed together in the first place. Showcasing that even the strongest of Rebel duos could turn against each other would prove incredibly helpful for her campaign against them. But Finnick no longer cared, nor did he care for Kolâs stubbornness on the matter. Heâd never seen the Original like this before, and he certainly wouldnât stand by and watch him die. ââ Actually, no. You know what? You donât even have to ask. Consider it a present.â
Finnickâs offer, although kind, only proved to increase the hollow ache Kol was feeling, inspiring a flurry of mental images of him feeding. He felt the desperation scratching at his stomach, tearing up his throat, and despite how hard he tried to shake off his own senses, his ears began to ring in tune with Finnickâs pulse. âI canât ââ Kol snapped, his tone far harsher than usual; at least Finnick would be aware of the reasoning. This was Coinâs intention, after all, starving him out whilst simultaneously trapping him in a cell with the one person whoâd willingly offer himself to Kol, despite the risk. Like dangling heroin in front of an addict, and Kol was exactly that. He covered his nose with his hand, noting how overpowering Finnâs scent was becoming, unsure how much longer he could withstand it.
âIâll kill you. I wonât be able to stop, I can never bloody stop ââ he spoke, the already strained words muffled by his fingers. It was more honest than he usually allowed himself to be when it came to his vampirism, but he felt as though it were already out in the open anyway, considering his recent string of attacks against the Capitolites. âIâm so hungry. Iâm so hungry,â heâd stopped talking to Finnick directly, quietly mumbling to himself, trying to redirect his mind to images of their family, but failing every time another wave of pain passed over him. âI canât do it,â Kol repeated, as if to convince himself. But it didnât stop the desire to try, the want.Â
âIâd start, and I wouldnât stop until I killed you. You donât know what I am, Finn. Not really. If youâd seen what Iâd done. What Iâm capable of ââ Kol shook his head, completely lowering his guard, despite their location. It was an unsettling and enraging realisation, that Wanda had been right about him. Maybe the vision sheâd forced him to endure was a prediction, opposed to a warning. Perhaps sheâd seen this coming. As Kol considered it, his eyes stung with tears that were unable to properly form, sickened by the memory of Finnickâs limp body in his arms. It felt like an upcoming possibility, a very real threat. âAll in the name of bloody hunger â I never cared to get it in check. Now look whatâs become of it.âÂ
He hated Mikael. He hated Esther. He hated the sickness that threatened to control him. So much so that heâd murder his own brother to satisfy it. He considered kicking off again, slamming himself against the vervain bars, but none of his pleas so far had been listened to. Emily had used up all of her favours, and further help from her would only increase the suspicion theyâd already caused. It threatened to expose them. Bad behaviour would draw the same conclusion, it wouldnât get him thrown out of his cell; Coinâs followers would much rather cause Finn to bleed to bring forward the inevitable. âI couldnât live with myself if I hurt you. But itâs what Mikaelsonâs do, isnât it? It doesnât matter if you mean to. It doesnât matter how much you lov ââ Kol stopped himself, head shaking again. With what little strength he had, he pounded a fist down into the mattress, his already greyed knuckles beginning to bruise despite barely tearing into the fabric. âWhat else can I do? Tell me. Tell me.â