the parade of colorful silks, subpar music, and clinking glasses of virginia is only so entertaining to a point. the air is thick with the offense of unwashed bodies and cloying with the scent of roses, replete with the incessant chatters of lackluster personalities shouting out into the void. if only seventeenth century america were anything like the conquest of the normans, perhaps klaus wouldn't feel the dreadful ennui that might drive him to slaughter a few unfortunate souls, but he digresses.
it's almost enough for him to miss the large majority of his family back in new orleans, but he had business to attend.
the bulk of his business, actually, took less than a week: he successfully rooted out the witch working against his interests, slaughtered the poor lad, and buried the body in an unmarked grave.
tonight is just for pleasantries — and to weed out any of the deceased witch's potential allies.
for once he is not posing at this governor's ball as anyone other than he truly is: niklaus mikaelson, one of the powerful and wealthy founders of the french city of new orleans. the novelty of claiming his own true accomplishments is quite invigorating if nothing else, and so far he's enjoyed the attention, if not the company —
he is sipping his wine between talks of trade and endless introductions to young, eligible ladies when he sees her.
she's a flash of cerulean, a swish of skirts in the waltz; he catches sight of her yellow hair, so silver in the moonlight it seems nearly luminescent. she is gold and porcelain and blue, with sharp edges to her smile and a sweet pink to her cheeks that he believes he'd like to taste.
While she can't entirely speak out as to that fact, she somehow still makes it quite apparent. She was instructed to have a good time, but there's still something in the rigidity of her back and the tightness of her features that gives it away, even as she moves effortlessly through the dance.
A hand tightens in hers, as if the other is aware that her thoughts are drifting.
He presses himself in closer to her, catching her eyes before whispering in her ear, and it's easy to catch the clench of her jaw, as if she's heard something unpleasant. But her features smooth all the same as he draws back. )
Care to fetch me a drink when you return?
( She both needs one and would like as much time to herself as she is able to force. )
( he watches her: the sinew of tight muscles in her back, the curve of her jaw, the flitting and empty direction of her gaze. she is beautiful; simply, inarguably beautiful, but it's not her beauty that holds his attention as he begins to study her: she is not quite herself, is she?
klaus takes a step forward to keep her in his sights through the moving, swirling dance. his drink has already been forgotten, placed on the nearest table, his head cocked to the side. he sees the white-knuckled grip of her dance partner, violence coiled. he listens with held breath to the low, threatening whisper.
the man deserts her, passes by him unawares: he catches the scents of blood and gin.
there's little to gain in interloping, and even less in caring, but he's drawn.
besides. perhaps this is the ally he suspected. if not, he sees someone he wants.
regardless, the moment she is alone, he can hardly help himself. he steps forward and in the next breath appears by her side, hand extended for hers. ) Pardon me. May I have the pleasure of an introduction?
[She doesn't even have a moment to breathe before someone else descends upon her. She would be irritated if she were capable, but as she turns her head, she recognizes him.
She would be a fool not to, of course. Anyone in attendance knew who Klaus Mikaelson was, at least by some amount of reputation.
There are many things she's been prevented from doing, as of late. Conversing casually isn't one of them. Lucky her.
She lays her hand in the one extended to her, a gesture of politeness. Her skin is soft against his.]
Caroline, sir. Caroline Forbes.
[Perhaps this was her companion's plan all along, to leave her here as a distraction. That would certainly be complicated for her, now wouldn't it.]
he takes her hand in his, his fingers closing slow over the warmth of hers, gentle but firm. he rather enjoys having her in his grasp, the knowledge of her name on his lips, and there is a wicked warmth in his unwavering gaze that makes the tone of his thoughts clear. ) Miss Forbes, ( he says, the syllables spoken with a soft interest. ) My name is Klaus. Klaus Mikaelson.
( the tips of his fingers graze across the center of her palm; he looks to their entangled hands. ) A pity you were left to your own devices for the next waltz; shall we?
[To her credit, she doesn't seem intimidated. There are worse things in the world than a rich gentleman with a desire to dance. That said, Caroline doesn't miss the feral gleam in his eyes; she's familiar with that too, at least.
He wouldn't be the first to look at her that way, but at least he's being a gentleman about it. For now.]
How could I possibly say no?
[The corner of her mouth perks, as if she's told a bit of a private joke.]
(could she? he wonders, but he relishes the opportunity to pull her closer regardless. he does so with a carefulness that is tender and possessing; his hand skims her waist and he leads her close enough to feel the heat of her skin. the thumping of her heart fills the space between him, an irregular beat against the rising orchestra.
she is human, he concludes. deliciously human. )
How fortunate I am to be known and acquiesced to someone as ravishing as you, ( he turns his head and nearly brushes her cheek with his own. ) I do hope your companion doesn't mind. ( he does actually hope so; it could be quite amusing, and there's a slightly mocking lilt to the statement that suggests so. )
[A good question, one she wouldn't be able to answer even if asked, because she wouldn't remember what her instructions were, regardless. One of the weaknesses of being human in this world, sadly. Some would see her an innocent victim, but not everyone was so kind in that regard.
She would have to hope for mercy if anything went wrong.]
I suppose we'll find out when he returns, but I certainly do not.
[As if that's all that matters at the moment. If nothing else, she wanted to be seen, and she certainly would be on this man's arm. Beyond that, thus far, she barely knew him.
( he smiles, almost entirely without guile. he does appreciate not only the utter lack of pretense, but also the sentiment. why should they discuss what an audience might think? he considers far more engrossing topics. when he speaks, his voice is thick with laughter. ) Excuse my concern, then. Let's speak of more interesting subjects. ( he leans back enough to catch her gaze. ) You, perhaps. ( he inclines his head flirtatiously. )
[Her mild surprise isn't entirely feigned, though perhaps she over-reacts just a bit for show. How often has someone actually wanted her to talk about herself and actually meant it?
Perhaps he doesn't. This might be exactly what he's trying to make her feel. She'll play, though.]
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While she can't entirely speak out as to that fact, she somehow still makes it quite apparent. She was instructed to have a good time, but there's still something in the rigidity of her back and the tightness of her features that gives it away, even as she moves effortlessly through the dance.
A hand tightens in hers, as if the other is aware that her thoughts are drifting.
He presses himself in closer to her, catching her eyes before whispering in her ear, and it's easy to catch the clench of her jaw, as if she's heard something unpleasant. But her features smooth all the same as he draws back. )
Care to fetch me a drink when you return?
( She both needs one and would like as much time to herself as she is able to force. )
no subject
klaus takes a step forward to keep her in his sights through the moving, swirling dance. his drink has already been forgotten, placed on the nearest table, his head cocked to the side. he sees the white-knuckled grip of her dance partner, violence coiled. he listens with held breath to the low, threatening whisper.
the man deserts her, passes by him unawares: he catches the scents of blood and gin.
there's little to gain in interloping, and even less in caring, but he's drawn.
besides. perhaps this is the ally he suspected. if not, he sees someone he wants.
regardless, the moment she is alone, he can hardly help himself. he steps forward and in the next breath appears by her side, hand extended for hers. ) Pardon me. May I have the pleasure of an introduction?
no subject
She would be a fool not to, of course. Anyone in attendance knew who Klaus Mikaelson was, at least by some amount of reputation.
There are many things she's been prevented from doing, as of late. Conversing casually isn't one of them. Lucky her.
She lays her hand in the one extended to her, a gesture of politeness. Her skin is soft against his.]
Caroline, sir. Caroline Forbes.
[Perhaps this was her companion's plan all along, to leave her here as a distraction. That would certainly be complicated for her, now wouldn't it.]
no subject
he takes her hand in his, his fingers closing slow over the warmth of hers, gentle but firm. he rather enjoys having her in his grasp, the knowledge of her name on his lips, and there is a wicked warmth in his unwavering gaze that makes the tone of his thoughts clear. ) Miss Forbes, ( he says, the syllables spoken with a soft interest. ) My name is Klaus. Klaus Mikaelson.
( the tips of his fingers graze across the center of her palm; he looks to their entangled hands. ) A pity you were left to your own devices for the next waltz; shall we?
no subject
[To her credit, she doesn't seem intimidated. There are worse things in the world than a rich gentleman with a desire to dance. That said, Caroline doesn't miss the feral gleam in his eyes; she's familiar with that too, at least.
He wouldn't be the first to look at her that way, but at least he's being a gentleman about it. For now.]
How could I possibly say no?
[The corner of her mouth perks, as if she's told a bit of a private joke.]
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she is human, he concludes. deliciously human. )
How fortunate I am to be known and acquiesced to someone as ravishing as you, ( he turns his head and nearly brushes her cheek with his own. ) I do hope your companion doesn't mind. ( he does actually hope so; it could be quite amusing, and there's a slightly mocking lilt to the statement that suggests so. )
no subject
She would have to hope for mercy if anything went wrong.]
I suppose we'll find out when he returns, but I certainly do not.
[As if that's all that matters at the moment. If nothing else, she wanted to be seen, and she certainly would be on this man's arm. Beyond that, thus far, she barely knew him.
One thing at a time.]
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[Her mild surprise isn't entirely feigned, though perhaps she over-reacts just a bit for show. How often has someone actually wanted her to talk about herself and actually meant it?
Perhaps he doesn't. This might be exactly what he's trying to make her feel. She'll play, though.]
What exactly do you find so interesting about me?