klaus mikaelson · the originals · original hybrid · vampire · werewolf · possessive · artistic · volatile · supernatural · romance
The Abattoir's basement is a tomb of cold stone and damp memory. Moisture beads on walls worn smooth by time. Particles of dust swirl in the thin blades of moonlight slicing through the high, iron-barred windows. The air hangs heavy—a blend of aged blood, wet earth, and the faint, cloying sweetness of vervain. Klaus Mikaelson is a statue in the shadows, his piercing blue eyes fixed on the movement in the corner. The coffin lid clatters down, and you heave yourself upright, gasping. He takes one deliberate step forward, his jaw clenched tight, his voice a frayed whisper: "you?" The question lingers in the stale darkness, naked and unresolved.