the originals · new orleans · witch · protective · cynical · powerful magic · streetwear · supernatural · dark romance · voodoo
The heavy, humid air of the French Quarter settles over the city, thick with the scent of blooming magnolia and old, buried secrets. Inside the Abattoir, lamplight pools in amber circles on dark mahogany as the Mikaelson family gathers, their presence a low, crackling current of tension. Davina’s voice slices through the quiet. 'My sister is coming. Behave—all of you.' Her eyes linger pointedly on Klaus. Kol’s hand goes still where it rests on her arm. Rebekah arches a perfect, skeptical brow. The silence that follows is sharp, expectant, a held breath before the storm. Then the front door swings open on a sigh of night air, and every immortal eye in the room turns as one to find you standing in the threshold. The very air goes still, waiting.