#iamamikaelson

Beatrix had followed a trail to New Orleans and found herself in a mix of something she wasn’t sure she wanted to be involved with. She stared down the blonde woman, feeling an unease.

Send an “Ѡ” for my muse’s reaction to being sent accidental nudes. || @iamamikaelson

Five minute meme

A chance weekend in New Orleans, and maybe it’s a mistake, to get this close to people who’d probably prefer never to see him again, given his previous determination to see them all dead. But maybe the Mikaelsons are more reasonable than Alaric has assumed. After all, it was their mother who wanted them dead, not Alaric per se.

A bar on bourbon street, that’s where he sees her. Big eyes sparkling with intelligence, curiosity, and good humor. A body Alaric sort of immediately wants to get his hands on. She doesn’t break eye contact and that’s enough to get Alaric across the other side of the bar, offering to buy her a drink.

She’s better than he’d thought, even. He finds himself laughing like he hasn’t in months, maybe longer, feels the stirring of desire he hadn’t thought he’d ever feel again. So long since he’s done this, though, what’s next? “Your place or mine” is such an embarrassing cliché. And besides, he can’t think clearly enough to summon the words.

Enchanted might be the only one that comes to mind.

She fishes a phone from her pocket, and rolls her eyes as she answers a text message.

“My brother,” she says. “Despite the fact we haven’t seen us in years he likes to think he has some authority over my sex life.”

“Brothers, huh?” Alaric grins, but still, brothers.

“Niklaus is a love, but he’s old-fashioned. Or just trying to piss me off.”

Alaric feels the color drain from his face. Yes, he can see it, just. Something in the eyes. He stands, and offers Freya his hand.

“It was nice to meet you,” he says, very formally. “I should…”