<span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #80BFBF">Klaus Mikaelson | The King</span></span><br/><br/><a class="postlink" href="https://31.media.tumblr.com/38cffb9a8252d120fc4036252e70d829/tumblr_mygz7bKacJ1rdyevjo1_500.gif">[ img ]</a><br/><br/>Klaus truly wasn't looking forward to this night, and he was busy muttering to himself as he waited for Mirabelle. Sure he wasn't exaggerating when he'd told her that if his siblings caught wind of her partying in New Orleans; well they would come chatter his ear off about it. Sometimes Klaus didn't understand half the things he did when it come to Mirabelle's doppelganger. Klaus doubted he'd see that redheaded siphoner as anything other than his love's shadow. A shadow that every breath she took, and all the words that flowed past her enamored tongue reminded Klaus that this was just a cruel torment, comprised to render him full of guilt for everything he had left unsaid with<span style="font-style: italic">his</span>Mirabelle. Everything that Klaus should of told her, and should have done for his original love. That no matter how much Klaus plead with whatever forces may be at work in this universe, that she was never, ever coming back. He at times felt like he was living with a ghost. The ghost of the person he'd most treasured had come back to him; but he could never grasp her, never talk to her; instead just cursed to gaze upon the likeliness of the face which haunted his dreams.<br/><br/>The silence of the Quarter washed over the Hybrid, making him rather antsy. The predator that paced his head was restless, and Klaus made a soft huffing noise beneath his breath as he ran a hand through his hair. He had offered to accompany her out of misplaced jealousy, but now he felt like a fool standing by the exit of their home, the Abattoir. Surely Mirabelle would search for ways to worm out of it, out of taking the Big Bad Wolf out to the city. It was true, frat parties were beneath him. He, Klaus Mikaelson who'd lived for a thousand years preferred elegance and poise. Balls, art exhibitions... Those were more of his "scene". Surely after tonight his delicate Hybrid senses would in overload. But, there had been weight and truth to Klaus' earlier words. There was trouble brewing on these streets, and as uncertain he felt about Mirabelle, Klaus didn't particularly want her dead. At least not currently. Klaus had far more pressing matters than trying to decide if he wanted Mirabelle's death or not. For starters, Hayley and their unborn child. Of which most the world seemed to want that little life extinguished.<br/><br/>The longer he was left to his thoughts recrimination and bleak, the Hybrid lapsed into one of his broodier moods. A dark wave washed over his heart and suddenly, Klaus was half-tempted to just shoo Mirabelle out on her own. Even as he thought of it, he knew deep in his heart of hearts that Klaus wouldn't let her wander about New Orleans on her own. This city was violent, brutal, and egregiously dangerous for someone like Mirabelle to just wander about intoxicated. That was just asking for trouble.<span style="font-style: italic">"I'm only doing this to keep peace amongst the residents of the Compound."</span>Klaus promised himself, and not because he was worried for the little siphoner. Finally, finally sensitive hearing picked up the staccato, sharp<span style="font-style: italic">crack!</span>of heel against concrete. Glancing towards the stairs the Hybrid had to remind himself not to stare at her the way a hawk would before devouring a mouse. When she came into view Klaus let his gaze wander over her form, taking in the small dress which left little to imagination; the lace which rested against her creamy skin. Mirabelle had chosen to wear her hair in loose waves which made his mouth go a little dry.<br/><br/>Dammit it all, she looked nice and for a painstaking moment the Hybrid could delude himself into thinking that it was<span style="font-style: italic">his</span>Mirabelle coming down those stairs; as she had in the past. However, where Klaus would hold his hand out to her, offer as some sort of silent reverie, the Hybrid stood in place. Lips were drawn into a scowl as she approached, and Klaus liked to think that his Mirabelle would of never worn something so... Scandalous. No, the Mirabelle he'd doted on was the epitome of grace and eloquence. This Mirabelle was undoubtedly beautiful- but nothing like how she was before. He hadn't been aware he was staring until the hybrid heard a soft throat clearing and snapping his gaze up from the floor to her's he refused to look ruffled.<span style="font-weight: bold">"Right, if you're quite done where are we heading to?"</span>For effect, Klaus made his voice sound flat and apathetic; not that it took much effort. Why would he willingly go to a party where undoubtedly humans would be intoxicated, making fools of themselves. Taking their intimacy and flaunting it in front of other party goers? He could already picture Mirabelle stumbling home, trashed and giggling like a righteous fool. Which led him to his next reminder.<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">"I will <span style="font-style: italic">not</span> be carrying you home. So you best not drink to the point of blacking out."</span>The hybrid gritted out, clearly aghast at the idea. Him, carrying someone through the streets<span style="font-style: italic">he</span>owned? Not likely. He could only imagine the flack he'd get for that. And likely people would misinterpret his actions, chalking the fact Klaus Mikaelson was carrying a women home as someone he must care about. And if harm came to Mirabelle, once again his siblings would find a way to blame it on him. It was evident the lot of them thought he was just a beast; terrorizing them.<span style="font-weight: bold">"Where is this party? Shall I call a car?"</span>Already reluctance was echoed deep in his voice as Klaus regarded Belle with a distant gaze. The scent of the city, black and riddled with disaster blew in from the Compound's gates, melding poorly with the natural smells of the compound. Floral scents with the underlying seductive promise of blood.  It seemed no matter how many bouquets they had, no scent would truly ever cover up the blood that seemed to paint these walls.<span style="font-weight: bold">"Well?"</span>Klaus added impatiently, his voice heavy with reluctance.<br/><br/>__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #40BF40">Sage Collins | The Invisible</span></span><br/><br/><a class="postlink" href="https://33.media.tumblr.com/ccd7a9fdf1b97ba4ae1128d45d9b88ac/tumblr_mtl8xmChj51rfhgr7o1_500.gif">[ img ]</a><br/><br/>She was close, everything was ready and all that needed to happen was the actual preparation which wouldn't take long. With swift hands she ground the sage and acacia leaves together, chanting under her breath. Once it was a thin paste like substance the girl picked up the rocks, coating each one in the paste. This would boost her power, hopefully enough to attempt this spell on her own. Part of the reason this spell was so complicated, was because it seldom yielded the same results twice; and needed usually a group to muster enough energy to complete the spell. But Sage was desperate as she sat cross-legged in the middle of her apartment's floor, the sweet and sugary scent of the sage and acacia wafting about her place. Finally when the rocks were completed it was a quick flick of her wrists to light the candles. Unfortunately for her, it appeared the serenity she'd invoked in her home to cast the spell was broken as the door was kicked in, making Sage flinch- nearly dropping the herb coated stones she needed to boost her own energy.<br/><br/>There he was, angry as she'd imagined and absolutely read to kill her. A cold sweat broke out on the back of Sage's neck as she tried to set back to her work; trying to pay the vampire no mind. However with the Mikaelson leveling off threats to her wellbeing- Sage’s distraction was a little compromised.<span style="font-style: italic">”Don't worry sooner than later you will need to leave the confines of these walls and I have all the time in the world to wait for you.”</span>The vampire taunted, his voice jovial and light as if this were a game to him. And Sage didn’t doubt that it was.<span style="font-weight: bold">”I have everything I need in here <span style="font-style: italic">Darling</span>.</span>Against Sage’s better judgement she glanced over her shoulder to glare at him. Sage wasn’t sorry for what she’d done to him- this vampire had completely deserved it. Outside her window the world moved on, blissfully unaware of what kind of dire situation in. In her palms the stones warbled with power, and her lips pressed into a firm, thin line. It was time to begin her spell.<br/><br/>Sitting up a little straighter she cleared her mind; exhaling softly letting herself settle down into focus. As she chanted, her word thick and ringing with a power that seemed to echo off the walls. The stones in her hand felt hot and heavy, the world about her fading out as Sage channeled every bit of energy she could into solidifying this spell. She<span style="font-style: italic">had</span>to believe it would work, otherwise this whole spell would be pointless and she’d either have to find another spell or face death. Because the vampire had a point- she could not stay in here forever. Maybe two weeks tops with the food she had in her fridge. It wasn’t like calling her coven to ask for help was an option. This Mikaelson would either kill them, or her coven would importune the wrath of the other Mikaelson siblings.<span style="font-weight: bold">”i nunc amit dueken teaah protegoh quoque sicerit.”</span>The young druid murmured.<br/><br/>The girl’s breath was soft, airy and surprisingly composed given the situation. Sage was far too focused on her spell to pay attention to anything that the Mikaelson vampire may be up to, but she could afford to pay no mind to him. There wasn’t really anything he could do while she was inside her own home.<span style="font-weight: bold">”i nunc amit dueken teaah protegoh quoque sicerit.”</span>Sage chanted,a little louder feeling her energy sap from her bones with an alarming speed; pushing her to hope she had enough energy to complete the spell. Sweat began to collect on her brow as Sage pushed on chanting the incantation like her life depended on it- which to be fair to the young druid it likely did. The air about her seemed to thrum and pulsate with magic which she was exuding, a sign that this spell was working. However, this spell was not without consequences. it was a strong spell, supposed to be attempted by an entire coven, and one that could pose a threat to her life should Sage use too much of her energy.<br/><br/>This was evident as the longer she chanted, solidifying the spell which would hopefully protect her from bodily harm against this vampire, Sage’s eyes rolled backwards into her head, nose dripping with blood. She was stretched so thin, but so close to completing the spell that she pressed onwards, the incantation rolling off her tongue like silver into the flat. Images of the Mikaelson’s face of which she was trying to target the spell at, flashed behind her eyes as she continued to chant<span style="font-style: italic">feeling</span>the power link them in a manner of speaking. The wind outside had picked up, a whistling gale to be heard as the candles’ flame danced, nearly blown out by the phantom wind which had picked up. The picture of herself which she had used to guide the magic to protect her was knocked over and Sage’s skin glistened with a light sheen of sweat. As if she were channeling the goddess herself, and then suddenly and all at once it stopped.<br/><br/>The wind outside had quieted down, and the flames had given their last bow as the phantom wind extinguished them, before that too dissipated; leaving Sage cross legged and sides heaving as she shook. Her energy had been depleted dangerously low, and for a few minutes the only thing that Sage could do was slump down to the ground; rolling over so she was laying on her back and staring up at her eggshell colored ceiling. Blood had run it’s course to her chin, dripping onto her collarbones as Sage began to regain her blurry vision.<span style="font-style: italic">”If this has worked I will never try that again on my own.”</span>She swore mentally to herself- once Sage’s mind began working again. Finally about ten minutes later the svelte girl pushed herself up to a sitting position looking towards the door to find the vampire was gone. Had he fled? Curiosity led Sage to the doorframe and casting her recovering gaze, found no sign of him.<br/><br/>Carelessly she brought up a shaking hand to wipe the blood from her nose as she took a tentative step outside her door. There was only one way to truly test if her spell had worked, and Sage was sure that the Mikaelson was still lurking about her shop, trying to lure her from the safety of her door.<span style="font-weight: bold">”Gods protect me.”</span>She murmured, stepping out from her apartment; and silently making her way to the stairs. Still her small shop remained quiet, her music still leaking from her speakers. Taking a breath, steeling her courage Sage made her way down the stairs and to the small shop she owned, her frayed nerves soothed by the aromatic scent of herbs. Wooden boards creaked under her barefeet as Sage reached her speakers, switching them off and silencing her favorite artist in the middle of her song, Million Dollar Man. For a couple minutes she lingered watching the street outside her shop’s large front windows. Finding nothing there Sage leveled off a soft sigh, turning around and to her horror quite literally colliding into what felt like a wall. She’d turned around with enough force to send the little druid stumbling back, catching herself against the very window she’d been looking out of. It was fear that diluted her veins, heart pounding against her ribs loud enough she was sure all of New Orleans could hear. Large denim colored eyes hesitantly traveled up the body she’d bumped into moments before to find the Mikaelson leering down at her.<span style="font-style: italic">”Don’t let me die.”</span>She prayed mentally to the universe, hope burning in her blood that the world took pity on her, allowing her no harm.