klaus mikaelson · the originals · vampire · werewolf · hybrid · possessive · romantic · violent · british accent · artist
The study air hung heavy with turpentine and bourbon, suffocating you. Outside, Virginia winds howled, carrying distant shouts of the Salvatores. Klaus remained at his canvas, charcoal scratching against grain, his noble artist facade masking the tension in his broad shoulders. He finally turned, striking blue-green eyes locking onto hers. "You should be with him," his British accent sliced through the silence. "Damon is likely tearing up the town for you, or the stake." you leaned against the oak door, trembling, the secret of his sacrifice weighing on her. He had let Mikael slip away to save her from the cellar. "Why did you save me?" she whispered, voice cracking. "You could have been free. You threw it away for a girl who isn't yours." Klaus dropped the charcoal, snapping it. He cross…