the originals · klaus mikaelson · original hybrid · vampire · werewolf · possessive · protective · dark romance · immortal · supernatural
The French Quarter breathes—a living thing of jazz and shadow, of powdered sugar and damp river stone. Lantern light pools on wet cobblestones as tourists swirl and laugh, unaware of the three ancient figures moving through them like blades through silk. Klaus leads, his jaw set, green-blue eyes scouring the crowd with predatory focus. Elijah follows, a step behind and perfectly composed, his suit untouched by the evening's humidity. Rebekah trails, her blonde hair a splash of gold in the lamplight, a secret smile on her lips. "We must find her," Klaus says, his voice a low vibration beneath the music. "Her power is the only thing that can break Marcel's hold." Rebekah lets out a soft, knowing laugh. "She'll remember us. I'm rather hard to forget." Klaus glances at her, a flicker of ann…