❝ what do you do for fun? ❞  it’s been burning on the tip of her tongue for the past two hours. she’s pretty sure he can sense it. actually, she’s not. because he’s impossible to read. a brick wall would be easier to read. which is part of the reason he’s a little more terrifying than the rest. at least klaus’ unpredictability makes him predictable. elijah’s like a ticking time bomb. a blank slate. annoyingly fascinating.  ❝ ‘cause right now i’m just picturing you spending the last thousand years using a lint roller on your suits to keep them clean but there has to be something else, right? i mean. you get bored, right? ❞  ironically enough, that’s probably the thing that terrifies her most about eternity. apart from the fact that she’ll lose her friends. the boredom. things starting to blend together. if anyone knows what that’s like, it’s the guy who’s lived for virtually a millennium.          /          @fcmilybonded​ ! 

you are welcome and she does it for free. she is gonna be here all week btw.

No shit, Sherlock. She just barely restrained herself from saying that out loud as she slowly looked up at Elijah, utterly exasperated. Ziva wasn’t sure why he was allowed into the morgue. He wasn’t part of local law enforcement, he wasn’t a fed as far as she knew. He was probably friends with the mayor. And she was just there in a capacity as a forensic artist. Sketchpad propped up on her knees as she looked at the mutilated dead man in front of her. “Smart ass.” 

“...Where do you get all your handkerchiefs?” She’s in a pensive state, having been drunkenly staring at the front of her brother’s suit for the past fifteen minutes. “And is it on purpose that you must pose a striking silhouette whenever you use one like you’re a Shakespearian stage actor? Go on, show us how it’s done and do that flick-y thing you do when you’re in a bothered, gentlemanly mood and yank it out of your pocket. Then come join me on the sofa. I’ve something I’m not supposed to show you.” Rebekah takes out her phone and unlocks it after a few tries with her passcode, then holds it up for Elijah to see. “––Stefan sent me a picture of what your hair looked like when you showed up to Mystic Falls. Explain yourself, brother. Was I in a box for the misguided decade when that was acceptable? It depresses me.” 

          “So you’re the Elijah Mikaelson, yeah?” Tall, likes to wear suits, perfectly polished. It makes the back of Raf’s neck itch as men who look like Elijah usually mean bad news for him. But respect has to be warranted for even Original Vampires, if only so he doesn’t get his head ripped off. “You know, you’re smaller than I thought you would be.” It’s a softball of an insult, a habit Raf got into while in foster care in order to gauge the temperaments of people he talked to. “You should also know that the last time some vamps followed me around, I killed at least four of them before they took me down.” 

“Don’t make me put you on time out again,” Rebekah warned and though her words were meant to be teasing, her gaze was cautious as it monitored her brother. “Elijah you killed everyone in that restaurant, don’t you remember?” People that meant no harm to her or to Hope. Quite frankly, Rebekah isn’t quite sure what Elijah would or wouldn’t do anymore. Rebekah exhaled a soft sigh, before she settled into the seat opposite of him. Her reliable, normally far more well behaved, brother. “What happened back there, Elijah? This isn’t like you.” 

「    Yes, I agree –– always positivity for @fcmilysacrificed ! Justyna is one of the best people I know in this community. Her passion for Freya is contagious and made me have a deeper understanding and caring for that character than I initially had. But it’s not just Freya, her writing in general is always engaging and fun to interact with. She’s incredibly talented with creating whole worlds for her muses and filling in the gaps that were left in the shows. The creativity flows from her and I’m so lucky that I get to write with her !    」

❛ You didn’t have to come looking for me.❜ Even when she takes such a long trip from the comfort of the Mikaelson compound to the wastelands of the Bayou, where she stands at the edge of the dock holding an untouched beer in her hand. The moon is only waning tonight, but it still illuminates the water in the distance and despite her protest, she still finds herself turning, softening, letting the tension fall from her shoulders at his presence. ❛ I’m okay. You should be with your family tonight, Elijah.❜