#cursedbcrn

Standing on the front steps of the compound, Rebekah exhaled audibly. The last time she stood at these doors, the Original swore she was leaving New Orleans for good. At the time, Hayley had a bun in the oven, Niklaus had found enough sense to set her free without a fight, and Elijah remained hopelessly devoted to staying at their side.

Since then, she returned only once to the edge of town, where she first held Hope in her arms and made a new oath: to keep her safe and happy and hidden as long as Dahlia walked the earth. Rebekah recalled that drive away from the Quarter with nothing but a fussy baby, a car seat, and a small bag of her belongings. She had driven away that night with so much care (following the speed limit at that) and compelled a cashier at the nearest department store to give up half the baby section.

"Nothing to be nervous over," she told the teenager, clasping Hope's hand in her own. "Your parents are dying to see you. Get to know you. I know with the wolf business this feels ill-timed, but try and enjoy it." Another audible exhale. The Original rapped at the door.

"Klaus?" Hayley's eyes shot up toward the ceiling, beckoning the hybrid upstairs. The morning had been so pre-occupied with Vincent surrounding the place with protective spells that Hayley miraculously managed to keep her nerves in check... up until now. Now that Hope stood outside the door, flesh and blood, rather than an update from Rebekah, her insides churned. The kid would hate her; visiting parents who were absent all because she'd accidentally activated a curse inherited from them...

"Klaus! Get down here. They're here!" Not like he couldn't hear her. Nerves were probably getting him too. As soon as Hayley opened the door, she willed away the desire to be sick all over Rebekah’s fancy schmancy shoes. Hope was unbearably beautiful (whose genes did she carry exactly?) and so much older than the image that lived in Hayley's mind, even with photos.

SEND A URL FOR POSITIVITY // ALWAYS ACCEPTING

Honestly, I could gush about @cursedbcrn endlessly!

being  hope's  left  hand  on  recruitment  missions  was  something  jed  had  really  started  being  grateful  for.  he'd  fought  hard  for  his  alpha  position  in  order  to  make  it  to  where  he  was  today.  they'd  just  gotten  back  from  mystic  falls  after  recruiting  the  saltzman  twins,  and  jed  was  eying  them  from  the  side  of  the  room,  leaning  on  the  wall  with  his  arms  crossed  over  his  chest,  ❝  what  are  you  thinking,  hope?  ❞  he  asked,  looking  over  at  her,  ❝  not  questioning,  just  .  .  .  curious.  ❞

“Pity. I was already breathlessly awaiting our time to share other whispered confidences under the clandestine refuge of a midnight snack.” There was a slight distance to the sardonic understanding that characterized their exchanges today. Tristan's attention still roamed above the fields of Hope's tale with the sharpness of a bird of prey intent on fully capturing the nature of an intriguing hunt.

“And that's the solitary clue you had the chance to extract from this underling? Peculiar. To hurt those the object of our hatred holds dear represents an universal reaction. Your family doesn't lack a picturesque repertoire of looming shadows whose jaws would relish in devouring anything a Mikaelson cherishes in darkness and oblivion. And yet still...You make for a peculiar target.” He observed her with an air of imprecise interest as further deductions on her mysterious visitor continued. “Don't you find it intriguing? Being chosen as the focus of their revenge, whatever this may be, in spite of the chimeric uniqueness of your power, both by birthright and by your conquest over your once hollow foe? You are either dealing with someone who still perceives you as the weakest link of your family, a possibility I have no doubt might ignite that ferocious pride of yours, or...There could be something else at play beyond the usual delights of vengeance. A figure with something to prove, perhaps. Or it could be that your impolite visitor is seeking something they can only obtain from you.” An aura of that strange familiarity only centuries could uncover still stalked the issue, inspiring him for one last unformed connection.

“Those recent cases involving disappeared wolves you mentioned last time. Did you manage to find any explanation to their vanished voices from the local chorus of moonlight howls yet?”

         Leaving the school was probably a dumb idea, but Adrian Ivashkov knew he’d done worse in his life. Without the protection of the Salvatore school, the Moroi was vulnerable to not only Strigoi ( who loved the taste of Moroi blood ), but to his own kind as well who hunted him for his special abilities. No dhampir guardian, no cute redheaded bodyguard. He was completely on his own and out in the open. Despite the few sparring classes Hope had given him, Adrian wasn’t much of a fighter. He could throw a good punch, but in a fight to the death against a monster, he wasn’t so sure his charming wit would help him out much. Yet this mission was important, he had decided. More important than his own spoiled life. 

@cursedbcrn​ sent;

                                            "sorry to put you through that. i guess i owe you one now."

                      ❛  Hey,  don’t  even  mention  it,  back  where  I  come  from,  this  is  just  your  average  Tuesday.  ❜  Now,  she  could  really  see  the  similarities  between  Monterey  and  Mystic  Falls.  In  a  way,  it  was  like  she  had  never  really  left  home,  minus  the  whole  Hogwarts  school.  Tilting  her  head  to  the  side,  the  knife  swirled  around  in  her  hand,  testing  its  balance  before  adding  with  a  somewhat  grin;  ❛  But  I  guess  you  can  always  buy  me  a  strawberry  shake  and  we’ll  be  even.  ❜

@cursedbcrn​ asked:  My muse has been having nightmares for the past several days. To where they seem tired and brain dead from lack of restful sleep. Send 😞 to find them in this state. || IANOS ANTILLON || V’s Meme Tag || Accepting 

It’s the middle of the night, and so Ianos will pretend the undignified squawk he’d made when coming across the tribrid in the library never happened. Still, he holds his tea to his chest and heaves a long sigh. He doesn’t bother mentioning curfew- it doesn’t matter to him, really, to enforce most of the rules in this school. Still, he looks at the teenager, and feels a tug at his heart. 

She looks the way he often feels. Lost. And very alone. 

It’s the reason he’s up this late after all, alone in the library so often until dawn peeks in through the windows. 

Slowly, he sets his teacup down in front of Hope, lips twisting a little. “I think,” he murmurs quietly. “You might benefit from that more than I will.” A hesitation, and then he shifts to sits across from her, reddish-brown eyes searching the features of his favorite student. 

“I know the answer to this question is probably no, but I’m going to ask anyways, in the hopes that you surprise me. Do you wish to talk about it?” She looks exhausted- bruises under her eyes are a marked sign of no sleep- she’s pale, and there’s a lack of focus to those sad blue eyes. 

Ianos raises a hand to rub between his brows, sighing. “You don’t have to, of course. But if you want to, I’ll listen.” He worries for the little Mikaelson. She bears the world on her shoulders enough without the influence of the world around her. Tonight he wonders at how much weight it’s taken, for her to get to this point.