#catastropheyes

she rarely sleeps. it’s an affliction she’s suffered from for too many years to count. tonight is no exception. she tosses and turns for a few hours, caught half in thoughts of the work she needs to do come morning, and half in old nightmares: adrenaline from old fights resurging through her veins. eventually, the mutant rises, disgruntled, and picks her way through the compound.

she digs the ice cream out of the back of the freezer, hidden there very specially for her and hope, and eats it straight from the pint with a spoon as she wanders. it’s eerie, this night of silence. normally even at night there are threats hissed around every corner, fights or flights: the bloody world of the mikaelsons. but tonight, there’s peace.

erulastiel pauses beside a door. a light shines through the crack below, clear evidence that someone else is awake and haunting the compound tonight. she hesitates, caught between not wanting to be alone with her thoughts and the echoes of the sleepy night, and the pain or annoyance a visit with niklaus usually brings, for it’s his door she stands before.

“Hold up! I said hold up!” Angua just manages to wedge the tip of her boot into the closing door of the lift.

“Thanks”, she says, saracastically, as she steps inside, offering an annoyed glare at the other passengers over the top of the cardboard box she is carrying. There’s a bright yellow tennis ball balanced precariously just on top of her personal effects. There’s also some kind of leafy plant, a little bit droopy from the heat and the stress of the move.

“Someone push four for me please?”

“I’m goin’ to four.”

“Righto, then.”

She shifts her weight, watches the numbers on the indicator above the door. Angua doesn’t quite know what to expect here, but she’s determined to do her best.

“Fourth Floor”, announces the recorded voice. The doors open with a hiss, and she steps out onto the corridor.

“401, 402, 403, 404... here we go I guess”, she mutters to herself, pushing open the door to the office, a little bit put out by the fact that there is as of yet no plaque with her name on the door.

“Morning!” She calls into the room, shaking her head to get a stray strand of hair off her face. “Wow, nice view.” She nods towards the window, then turns her gaze on the man sitting at his desk, silently taking stock of her new partner. She’s heard good things. That’s all she cares about.

With quick, graceful steps, she’s across the room at the empty desk, placing the box down on the surface before turning around to offer him a polite smile.

❝are you cold? you’re shaking-❞