VIRULENT SINS

      ORPHEUS:
      How will you remember?

      EURYDICE:
      That I love you?

      ORPHEUS:
      Yes.

      EURYDICE:
      That's easy. I can't help it.

SARAH RUHL —— Eurydice

XV Century, February
— England, 1492:

The pale moonlight and candlelight properly lit the chamber, bringing an air of snugness, as winter wind whistled and howled during the cold night, as if ghosts were just outside the polished walls of the room.

      The silver light of the gracious apollo was intoxicating to him, akin to poison in his wicked veins. Still, his gaze would never leave it.

"For the sacrifice to be efficacious, we must flee to the birthplace of the doppelgänger soon," her toneless voice echoed throughout the parlour, as she meticulously eyed the diaphanous stone.

"Have you already chosen which one of the sisters shall be taking part in the ritual?" the witch's beady syrup brown eyes, now, mindfully inspected a grimoire, the parchment pages reverberating in harmony.

"Yes, I suppose," his cerulean irises twinkled with viciousness, yet thoughts of her invaded his mind without permission.

He is augment fire, a synonym for calamity. She had fallen from the Olympus, the deities shed tears with her departure.

He would do aught to lure the young pulchritude in. She would bleed dark crimson and her psyche would burn with pathos.

And Klaus Mikaelson always gets what he wants.

              April 15th, 1492:

Lovely Karina,

Wrath is acknowledged as one of the Seven Deadly Sins.

Fury is something I am more familiar with than many would believe.

I watch as the blood fall vertically from my fingertips. My disjointed thoughts embraced the darkness once more. Still, the metallic taste of it was euphoric.

I must eradicate every last entity who wishes to see us apart.

My heart is not completed without you.

My atrocious intentions and the virulency in my sins have poisoned your soul till it's deepest parts, disintegrating your pure self and your golden aura—one that irradiated a nectarous poise.

A blood sacrifice, I did not want you to be part of it, my darling.

You should not have sympathized with the devil.

I do not ask for forgiveness. Yet, I dare to ask, are you okay?

A delicate lie made our love become ephemeral, a memoir—that once I was yours and you were mine.