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 Water Always Runs to the River, tag || bonnie
Niklaus Mikaelson
 Posted: Jan 30, 2017 | 12:24 pm
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The healthy man does not torture others.
Generally it is the tortured who turn into torturers.
Klaus was not a humble creature. He did not like to admit it when he needed helped. For most of his unnaturally long, he had always taken the path where he did not need anyone by his side. Yes, it was nice when, occasionally, a sibling or ally would take the road with him, but he learned early in life not to get used to such luxuries, and to always prepare for the knife in the back. People feared him. He liked it that way. It kept people at arm’s reach from him. What it did mean, though, was that when something was needed outside of his area of expertise (and the actual practice of magic was a glaring hole in that long list) he had few people he could turn to.

He did not tell Hayley where he was going, or that he was leaving at all. He told himself that it was a risk that he didn’t want to take, but there was another reality that he was barely willing to admit to himself. He didn’t want her seeing him weak. That what the truth of it. The very idea that he would show his… his Hayley… any kind of weakness, any sign that he might not be able to keep her and the baby safe, spoke to the growling beast inside him. He had already shared so much with Hayley. The very idea that she might find out his weaknesses was something he could not contemplate. This time, though, it had nothing to do with strategy, or the fear of betrayal. It had everything to do with fear of rejection, a deep pang that made his beast ache. If she knew he was weak, would she still want him?

It was better for him to come home with a solution than to admit his own failure. So he left, and didn’t take the car. It was quicker to just run his way through the city. This town was full of enough superstitious people that if they felt a breeze rush by them, they would bless themselves and thank whatever god they believed in that it wasn’t worse.

He loved this city. He needed this city. It was something that someone like Marcel would never understand. If he wanted to move, Marcel could pick up and find any city to be ruler of. He wanted to play Prince? He could find New York, or Los Angeles, or any other city to call his home. Creatures like Klaus, and his family… they needed a town like New Orleans. It was a town that accepted the balance between the dark and the light and did not question it; did not fight it. He and his family had built this city. Their blood was part of its roots. Marcel would never understand that, but he would never give it up. So that was why Klaus needed to take it from him.

But one complication at a time. Marcel had an understanding with the witches, and Klaus doubted that when he ruled the city that the agreement would extend to him. The history between the Mikaelsons and the New Orleans witches was long, and bloody. That meant the moment that he gained control, they would use their ties to Hayley against them. (Why had he not said “against him”?) The bond needed to be severed. He had reached out to all his “friendly’ magical contacts and received nothing by rejection. It seems all of his one-time friends had either grown too soft or too cowardly to actual do something other than sit on their asses and diddle themselves with their sense of self-righteousness and worth. It was pathetic, but it also left Klaus in a lurch. He had no magical allies.

But it seemed word traveled fast in the magical community. It was either that, or Bonnie Bennet was in town for other reasons other than the gossips about his misery. He was not sure which truth he preferred. Not wanting to be a rude host, he had sent her in invitation to meeting, using a compulsed human to deliver the message about a time and a place, and for said human to do nothing else until they had found Bonnie, delivered the message, and reported back to Klaus. It took two whole days, and rather than slit the poor girl’s throat at the sight of sleep deprived, hungry form, he just released her with an erasure of memory. See? He was evolving.

He arrived in the alley behind Café du Monde 4 minutes after 7PM, just a little late. He had taken an extra lap around the block just to be sure of it. He allowed his speed to make him just appear in the alley, by the stairs that led to the trolley station, just before the end of the building. “So…” he said with no other salutation. ”Which little birdy has been singing to you about my family business.” He sauntered forward, his pace as if he was just wandering the lazy alley, walking by the fountain, and to the benches in the alley. He did not sit or perch, but just looked, unblinking, at the witch in front of him. Before, his tone might have been light and inquisitive, maybe even friendly. As he continued to talk, though, that predatory purr, the promise of danger, streamed forth. “I need to know whose wings to clip.”

words: 906 | tag: bonnie


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Bonnie Bennett
 Posted: Feb 26, 2017 | 1:19 pm
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Bonnie knew that it was only a matter of time before he would come and find her for some crusade of the week he had been on.She didn't make an effort to hide her tracks knowing that if there were something he wanted that he would find her. There were times that she could have killed him a million times over, but there was always some sick twist of fate that prevented it from happening. In her mind, after all of the doubt in her abilities and the pain he caused her she told herself that he had a greater purpose here and that was why nature never took hold.

He would one day get what was coming to him, but it was obvious it wouldn't be from her.Not this time. So she would see what he wanted and be done with it.But she had terms of her own, and would kill him this time if she had to. When she received the message from the poor girl whom he had compelled, she slipped a sprig of vervain into her pocket so she couldn't be harmed again after this. She hated how he used people for his purposes, when he could have came to her himself like he always did.What was different about this time that had made him so cautious.

Wanting answers she called the one person who might have a clue about what was going on when he was here and that person was Damon. She didn't trust him, but this time she would at least listen to what he had told her about his time here and the things he and Rebekah shared. Pillow talk went a long way.Now that he was back in Mystic keeping Elena safe like she had asked him to, despite his complaints and reservations about going back home. She never asked him for anything, and so he did what she wanted knowing there was another purpose behind it. Stefan was in the wind, Caroline was with Tyler, Matt was busy working, Jeremy was dealing with this curse so it left her to watch over her and when she couldn't, that was when she called him.

The Salvatore's unwavering love for Elena would keep her safe until she got back.She would come back from this. She went to the Café Du Monde as requested and walked across the street, taking a seat on a bench when she felt that all too familiar chill in her bones, the feeling she always got when near him. Going to a standing position she readied herself for his approach. Straightening her posture as he came into the view, she very briefly admired how beautiful he truly was, and it was one of the things that made him so damn dangerous. He was beautiful, cunning, and stronger than the ages.

It was what made him the perfect predator.

"”Which little birdy has been singing to you about my family business.""It doesn't matter what can I do for you Klaus?".She wasn't going to tell him, he should have learnt that by now.She was stronger than she had ever been and she was never afraid of the original."You don't need to know what you do need to know is that before I listen to whatever you have to say, that I have some things to say as well and you will let me say them or I walk away because we both know you wouldn't come to me unless you were desperate...so what is it Klaus?"

Niklaus Mikaelson
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Niklaus Mikaelson
 Posted: Mar 9, 2017 | 1:16 pm
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Jax

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The healthy man does not torture others.
Generally it is the tortured who turn into torturers.
Klaus couldn’t sense magic. It didn’t work like that for him, but there was something different about little Bonnie Bennett. His wolf, more alive than it had even been, rode close to the surface. It growled deep within him, not at him or her, but in a general sense of warning. Witches were one of the few things that the Mikaelsons had to fear, but somehow, with his wolf so close to him, he didn’t feel that usual tightness that came with a vampire approaching a witch. He felt more… hybrid than ever.

He cocked his head at her words, not stopping his slow approach as she spoke. He didn’t slow or speed up, rather remained methodical, even as her words turned sharp and hostile. His face, though, reacted to almost every sentence, even if it was slightly. He raised his eyebrows, or let a wave of “disappointment” or “pain” cross his features. Before long, he was directly across from her, just out of arm’s reach. It created the sense of there being a boundary between them, even if they both knew that arm’s reach would not be enough distance to protect themselves from each other. Still, it was polite. No one could say that Niklaus lacked manners, at least when he felt like it.

He tucked his hands behind his back. To an onlooker he would appear cordial, as would the meeting between him and Bonnie. In fact, she might be the one who looked more flustered, with her words coming out so easily as opposition. He let her speak, and didn’t interrupt, and maintained his distance even after she was done. And when she was finished, he continued to stand in silence. A heartbeat passed. A second. A whole moment stretched between them, and he just looked at her, expectantly. After the moment had gone on for almost too long, he blinked; it was the first time he had the entire time he had been in that alley.

He looked one way up the alley, then the other, almost dramatically, but Klaus always did like a show. When he looked back at Bonnie, there was another heartbeat of silence, before he finally spoke. “Oh, go on.” He was polite, and anyone who did not know him might mistake his tone as cordial, maybe even gentile, but there was an undercurrent there, detectable to those careful enough to notice. He was still a predator, and, desperate or not, he was still dangerous. In fact, the desperation might make him even more so.

“I would never want to be accused of interrupting a lady, and clearly you have a lot on your mind.” His smile was purely animalistic, and not at all kind. And in that silence, he waited, just as any great wolf could do. Patient. Gauging. He did not break eye contact with Bonnie. He did not move closer. He did not move at all, in fact, but did what all great, immortal predators were so good at doing: waited.

words: 505 | tag: bonnie


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