( new enemies are inevitable. fighting; always imminent. everyone has their demons; some are just more tangible than others, and it's obvious wynonna's fit that description. he's tired of it too: fighting. war. even here, after death, he is forced again to savor the taste of it. but bleakness does not preclude what it is all for. his thumb runs along the side of hers.
musing, he says, ) You know, I've only spoken a handful of words to your sister, but it's clear she loves you. Whatever you face, it won't be alone. Whether she's with you or not.
That would be a change. ( a subtle dig, but not an unkind one. with a burgeoning smile, he adds, ) I'd encourage you to get to know my siblings, but honestly I'm the far superior one. ( or maybe the idea of wynonna learning more about him — anyone learning more about him, intimate in the way only siblings could communicate — unsettles him. she knows him as he is now; he likes the way she knows him. or maybe, more accurately, inviting others into a circle that already feels so fleeting and fragile to him... feels like inviting in reality that will cause it all to topple around him. )
( certainly not the time, if ever, to tell him that. not that it would change anything at all, but it wouldn't put him in the best of moods.
klaus straightens, just some, as she's overcome, averting his eyes as if doing so might grant them both reprieve from what most definitely will worsen. his fingers tighten over hers. ) I managed to acquire the taste quite readily.
(look, her plan is not ever telling him, and so far, it's worked.
it's going to get worse before it gets better, something they both know acutely, and yet his hand wrapped around hers reminds her that at the very least, she doesn't have to suffer through it alone. he is here by her side, and that matters.)
You did. You were one of the first people I met here, that night in the club.
(they had both been desperate and lonely then, looking for an escape from their feelings and problems, finding solace in carnal pleasures. what they have has grown a lot since then.)
And I, you. ( what is between them has changed. grown and evolved, and he feels the weight of that, as he has in many moments since, his hand wrapped around hers; the fabrications and calculations of the everyday stripped from him as he looks at her now.
klaus is not a man of needless, flowery words in moments like these, despite his vocabulary, in spite even of what he feels filling him to the brim. there is no need in him to state what is obvious: that whatever happenstance brought them together, it has allowed something significant form. only a soft smile that follows his words. )
(honestly, she prefers it this way. she never knows what to do with flowery words or big speeches about love and devotion. the silence, what goes unsaid but is felt by both of them is easier to swallow, to accept.
her hand tightens around his, squeezing harshly as she feels another ripple of pain go through her. while she could probably weather this storm alone, like she has so many before, she is glad she doesn't have to.)
Distract me. Tell me a story. Something I don't know about you.
(he's lived a long time, surely he has some good stories to tell, and it'll give her something else to focus on.)
( he doesn't look away this time, but bears through it with her, his fingers tightening gently over hers. her strength is substantial enough for a human, but she won't break him. he wants her to know that: he's not going anywhere. ) Any genre in mind? ( he does have all sorts. she can take her pick. )
(she does know that, somehow she knew from the moment he agreed that he would not leave her side until this passes. that he would choose to bear it with her.
as far as genre goes...she knows they both have their share of misery and violence they could talk about. he's probably had some epic romances in his times, but she doesn't really want to hear about that. so instead she simply says:)
( he doesn't have very many happy stories. but as of late, he cannot help but recall more moments that hold true meaning to him. his daughter is not only the obvious choice, but the brightest. the happiest. the one he holds closest to his heart.
but she already knows that one. )
All right. Once upon a time, ( he begins, somewhat tongue-in-cheek at the tell-tale beginning, ) a mysterious train of magnificent carriages hobbled up and down the rolling hills of Scotland, eventually reaching the hollowed, empty halls of an abandoned castle.
The family within those carriages were unknown to the surrounding villages and were not greeted with all possible welcome. You see, they carried an accent from a country unliked throughout the Highlands, but within time what their noble dress and wealth could not endear, their insatiable love of the countryside and the rough and tumble gaiety of its people did.
(in spite of everything else, she can't help but grin in the way he frames the story like a fairy tale. she knows in real life there are no happily ever after, almost nothing ends up neatly tied in a bow, but sometimes it's nice to pretend.)
And if I would take a wild guess -- this family is your own?
Yes. Though we went by a different name then. ( klaus' eyes narrow in thought; he glances away as if his gaze could take him back to the fifteenth century. ) Clarell? ( he lifts a finger in sudden realization. ) No, de Claxton. A temporary, cautious measure; the family, though immortal and powerful, had secrets. Enemies. Ones constantly hounding their footsteps, always a turn or two behind. ( the grim fear of mikael is not possible, even in this retelling, that klaus can entirely avoid. the looming shadow is significant.
and anyway, it's lends an appropriate amount of drama. his eyes, which had drifted to the side for a moment, now focus. he licks his lips. ) But they found peace in such remote lands. The bliss of anonymity. For such a time, nothing seemed quite so fraught as whence they ran so desperately in the night. They learned the language, the music, the dances. They enjoyed the food and the stories of fae and kelpies, all the while keeping secret their own supernatural identities. And then they met a girl. ( klaus smiles at this. the 'they' is very intentional. )
(he's good at this, she thinks, telling stories. he has the right flair of drama to keep her attention, waiting to hear more. she may not have waverly's thirst for history, but this is different because it's about him)
Must of been some girl, if she kept the whole family's attention.
(wynonna did catch on to the plural pronoun he used there.)
( klaus' lips draw down into a facial equivalent of a shrug; he teams the expression with a cock to his head. honestly: ) She was a plaything. ( that didn't preclude their enjoyment of her. ) But a delectable one at that; certainly not opposed to visiting each of our rooms at night. ( his voice thickens with some amusement. ) So adept was she, we only discovered it a week or two later. Her name was Mary Porter. She had a small, dainty face and strong arms from daily labor. Bright ginger hair she often wore freely in curls down her back. She was a free, insatiably curious spirit, drawn to otherworldliness.
Now, if you know a thing or two about the Scots, then you know how deeply their superstitions run. You see, it was not only avoiding our enemies that convinced us to carefully hide our true natures, but also fear that if they were to be revealed, we might make new ones. Mary wasn't the only person of note in this story; there was also a witch.
(a plaything. it should bother her more than it does, the admission that he's played with humans like toys, but he's never lied to her about what he is. and this place is not home, where the lines between humans and the supernatural were more carefully drawn.
besides...it sounds like this girl had enjoyed it, so probably consensual right? as someone who's enjoyed klaus feeding on her a couple of times now, she can't really judge.)
And let me guess, the witch caused problems for you?
(if she sounds slightly judgemental now it's because her own run ins with witches and magic have generally been bad.)
Witches tend to do so. ( spoken with equal judgement — being a vampire, let alone a hybrid, was often enough reason to be hated and spurned. ) It was our mother who made us what we are through an Immortality Spell, fearing that horrible death might come upon anymore of her children. But it was with this bastardization of nature that ensured not only our endless survival, but spawned our bloodlust. And witches believe in balance; we were an affront to that belief.
He knew what we were. From the very moment our horses carried us into his home, he sensed the darkness of our presence, despite how we freely walked in the sun. But he was smart. He didn't yell through the glen what we were. He waited.
He waited until the peak of the summer solstice, when the sun's power is at its greatest, and he endeavored to harness that power to strip the magic from the trinkets we wore that protected us.
(she can't help but think of constance clootie and doc when he mentions the immortality spell.)
What is up with witches and immortality spells?
(this is beginning not to sound like a happy story but...it's a riveting one and focussing on it, on the dramatic flourishes in his tone and delivery, has made it much easier to bare the pain her body was still going through. )
Did this Mary help you spoil his plans?
(because obviously, the didn't go the way the witch hoped, considering they all survived for centuries beyond this.)
No. ( he delivers the answer with some quiet pleasure, if only because he was successful in setting up what wasn't expected. ) His plan worked. We burned in the afternoon sun. It was first time we realized what would happen if we did. ( he looks down at the ring on his finger, useless now ever since he broke the curse. ) Suffice to say, it wasn't enough to kill us.
Mary dragged our charred bodies in from the setting sun, and it was in that moment she realized who had done this.
(man, who doesn't love a good plot twist though? sure, burning in the sun sounds alarming but obviously he survived it, so you know, could have been worse.)
Did she kill the witch for it, or did you?
(she has the feeling it has a bloody ending, but she doesn't really matter, even if it wasn't happy, it was entertaining, and right now that's enough.)
She didn't want to kill her own blood. ( there's the other plot twist. ) We, of course, wanted to slaughter him. Kol was spitting. Rebekah, mad with rage. Even Elijah in all his nobility thought a violent recompense was in order. Emotions, for vampires, are volatile things. ( he lifts his brows. he admits, without apology: ) I wanted her to do it. Or I'd kill them both.
( his lips thin. while his gaze didn't falter, he looks away now. ) Perhaps not my finest moment. ( not his first, nor his last. )
But she agreed. After bargaining for her eternity instead. Like I said, she was sharp.
(no, not his finest moment and it does twist something inside of wynonna to hear him speak of it....but she remembers that was along time ago, centuries ago, and maybe he was that person then, but that is not who she has known, not what he has chosen to be here.
that has to matter, right?)
She sounds like it. She saw an angle she could play and took it.
( he knows what he says has an affect. he knows it does and a part of him wants it to, if only because he has no intention of lying to her. she knows who he is. she should know who he is fully, and without question.
he would not hide it. if they are to be familiars, she deserves to know what he is. what he's been. what he's capable of, including the terror and cruelty he has wrought. )
She let her uncle's family go free. I killed them as they ran. I couldn't risk that they would tell stories and bring our father down upon us. I let her believe in their survival. Perhaps I had a soft spot for her after all.
This may not seem like a happy story to you, and I cannot confess it ended any differently, but I don't always remember those months in Scotland drenched in blood. Peace was a difficult thing. Fleeting, in the centuries we ran from Mikael. Some of those days were the happiest and most carefree of our lives.
(the weird thing is when he explains his motivations? she understands. all she's ever wanted to do is protect her family, and there was little she wouldn't do to meet those ends, something she'll only become more aware of herself in a few weeks.
but she knows happiness is fleeting at best, but it is real, and it does exist.)
Sometimes, it's those small moments of peace you have to learn to treasure. Those real moments of happiness, like you've talked about before.
( she doesn't shirk or judge. not that he thought she would, but the understanding is all the more meaningful than the absence of any, in place of anything else. ) I think it's your turn. If you're up for it.
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musing, he says, ) You know, I've only spoken a handful of words to your sister, but it's clear she loves you. Whatever you face, it won't be alone. Whether she's with you or not.
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(her face visibly warms as he talks about waverly. she can't help it. her sister is her favorite person, generally speaking.)
You should talk to her more. Waverly is the best -- and she'd actually get more of those pretentious references you make than I do.
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I've met Kol. I definitely like you better.
(not that she and kol talked much but the last thing he needs to know is how this place forced her to play seven minutes in heaven with his brother.
another burst of pain flashes through her and her voice is more strained, more labored when she speaks again)
Waverly's definitely the better one of the two of us -- everyone loves her. I tend to be more of an acquired taste.
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klaus straightens, just some, as she's overcome, averting his eyes as if doing so might grant them both reprieve from what most definitely will worsen. his fingers tighten over hers. ) I managed to acquire the taste quite readily.
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(look, her plan is not ever telling him, and so far, it's worked.
it's going to get worse before it gets better, something they both know acutely, and yet his hand wrapped around hers reminds her that at the very least, she doesn't have to suffer through it alone. he is here by her side, and that matters.)
You did. You were one of the first people I met here, that night in the club.
(they had both been desperate and lonely then, looking for an escape from their feelings and problems, finding solace in carnal pleasures. what they have has grown a lot since then.)
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klaus is not a man of needless, flowery words in moments like these, despite his vocabulary, in spite even of what he feels filling him to the brim. there is no need in him to state what is obvious: that whatever happenstance brought them together, it has allowed something significant form. only a soft smile that follows his words. )
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(honestly, she prefers it this way. she never knows what to do with flowery words or big speeches about love and devotion. the silence, what goes unsaid but is felt by both of them is easier to swallow, to accept.
her hand tightens around his, squeezing harshly as she feels another ripple of pain go through her. while she could probably weather this storm alone, like she has so many before, she is glad she doesn't have to.)
Distract me. Tell me a story. Something I don't know about you.
(he's lived a long time, surely he has some good stories to tell, and it'll give her something else to focus on.)
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(she does know that, somehow she knew from the moment he agreed that he would not leave her side until this passes. that he would choose to bear it with her.
as far as genre goes...she knows they both have their share of misery and violence they could talk about. he's probably had some epic romances in his times, but she doesn't really want to hear about that. so instead she simply says:)
I want something happy.
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but she already knows that one. )
All right. Once upon a time, ( he begins, somewhat tongue-in-cheek at the tell-tale beginning, ) a mysterious train of magnificent carriages hobbled up and down the rolling hills of Scotland, eventually reaching the hollowed, empty halls of an abandoned castle.
The family within those carriages were unknown to the surrounding villages and were not greeted with all possible welcome. You see, they carried an accent from a country unliked throughout the Highlands, but within time what their noble dress and wealth could not endear, their insatiable love of the countryside and the rough and tumble gaiety of its people did.
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(in spite of everything else, she can't help but grin in the way he frames the story like a fairy tale. she knows in real life there are no happily ever after, almost nothing ends up neatly tied in a bow, but sometimes it's nice to pretend.)
And if I would take a wild guess -- this family is your own?
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and anyway, it's lends an appropriate amount of drama. his eyes, which had drifted to the side for a moment, now focus. he licks his lips. ) But they found peace in such remote lands. The bliss of anonymity. For such a time, nothing seemed quite so fraught as whence they ran so desperately in the night. They learned the language, the music, the dances. They enjoyed the food and the stories of fae and kelpies, all the while keeping secret their own supernatural identities. And then they met a girl. ( klaus smiles at this. the 'they' is very intentional. )
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(he's good at this, she thinks, telling stories. he has the right flair of drama to keep her attention, waiting to hear more. she may not have waverly's thirst for history, but this is different because it's about him)
Must of been some girl, if she kept the whole family's attention.
(wynonna did catch on to the plural pronoun he used there.)
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Now, if you know a thing or two about the Scots, then you know how deeply their superstitions run. You see, it was not only avoiding our enemies that convinced us to carefully hide our true natures, but also fear that if they were to be revealed, we might make new ones. Mary wasn't the only person of note in this story; there was also a witch.
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(a plaything. it should bother her more than it does, the admission that he's played with humans like toys, but he's never lied to her about what he is. and this place is not home, where the lines between humans and the supernatural were more carefully drawn.
besides...it sounds like this girl had enjoyed it, so probably consensual right? as someone who's enjoyed klaus feeding on her a couple of times now, she can't really judge.)
And let me guess, the witch caused problems for you?
(if she sounds slightly judgemental now it's because her own run ins with witches and magic have generally been bad.)
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He knew what we were. From the very moment our horses carried us into his home, he sensed the darkness of our presence, despite how we freely walked in the sun. But he was smart. He didn't yell through the glen what we were. He waited.
He waited until the peak of the summer solstice, when the sun's power is at its greatest, and he endeavored to harness that power to strip the magic from the trinkets we wore that protected us.
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(she can't help but think of constance clootie and doc when he mentions the immortality spell.)
What is up with witches and immortality spells?
(this is beginning not to sound like a happy story but...it's a riveting one and focussing on it, on the dramatic flourishes in his tone and delivery, has made it much easier to bare the pain her body was still going through. )
Did this Mary help you spoil his plans?
(because obviously, the didn't go the way the witch hoped, considering they all survived for centuries beyond this.)
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Mary dragged our charred bodies in from the setting sun, and it was in that moment she realized who had done this.
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(man, who doesn't love a good plot twist though? sure, burning in the sun sounds alarming but obviously he survived it, so you know, could have been worse.)
Did she kill the witch for it, or did you?
(she has the feeling it has a bloody ending, but she doesn't really matter, even if it wasn't happy, it was entertaining, and right now that's enough.)
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( his lips thin. while his gaze didn't falter, he looks away now. ) Perhaps not my finest moment. ( not his first, nor his last. )
But she agreed. After bargaining for her eternity instead. Like I said, she was sharp.
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(no, not his finest moment and it does twist something inside of wynonna to hear him speak of it....but she remembers that was along time ago, centuries ago, and maybe he was that person then, but that is not who she has known, not what he has chosen to be here.
that has to matter, right?)
She sounds like it. She saw an angle she could play and took it.
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he would not hide it. if they are to be familiars, she deserves to know what he is. what he's been. what he's capable of, including the terror and cruelty he has wrought. )
She let her uncle's family go free. I killed them as they ran. I couldn't risk that they would tell stories and bring our father down upon us. I let her believe in their survival. Perhaps I had a soft spot for her after all.
This may not seem like a happy story to you, and I cannot confess it ended any differently, but I don't always remember those months in Scotland drenched in blood. Peace was a difficult thing. Fleeting, in the centuries we ran from Mikael. Some of those days were the happiest and most carefree of our lives.
We were a family.
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(the weird thing is when he explains his motivations? she understands. all she's ever wanted to do is protect her family, and there was little she wouldn't do to meet those ends, something she'll only become more aware of herself in a few weeks.
but she knows happiness is fleeting at best, but it is real, and it does exist.)
Sometimes, it's those small moments of peace you have to learn to treasure. Those real moments of happiness, like you've talked about before.
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