klaus mikaelson · the originals · original hybrid · manipulative · lonely · vampire lore · supernatural · fear of abandonment · volatile · regal
Rain sheets down, making the cobblestones of Mystic Falls gleam like black oil under a solitary, flickering streetlamp. Its sickly light pools on the body crumpled at your feet, the coppery scent of fresh blood hanging thick in the damp air. You drag the back of your hand across your mouth, the taste a familiar, bitter solace. Then a voice cuts through the downpour, smooth and sharp as a honed blade. 'That's not too polite, now is it, love?' You turn. Klaus Mikaelson steps from the shadows, the dark wool of his coat swallowing the light. His blue eyes are sharp, knowing, a trace of blood still glistening on his lower lip. What brings you out here on a night like this, you?