dust in the wind―n.mikaelson

dorien moreau.

―――

CASSANDRE WAS A FIRM BELIEVER IN THE RELIGION OF 'DRINK AND SHOOT THINGS FIRST, ASK QUESTIONS LATER'. Except in a vampire's line of thinking there were no questions to be asked. It was just drink first. And then keep drinking. They were a living―or rather, unliving―violation of the human body. 

Still, she could never blame the Originals for what they were. Their cruelty was born of fear and pain and prejudice and nothing that was their choice. They had never wanted what happened to them. They had barely been aware of it. 

This? What Marcel was doing, seeing if people were worthy? She didn't know if she could approve of it, although he certainly didn't need any sort of opinion from her and it was the people's choice if they wanted to turn into immortal bloodsucking parasites. He seemed to be doing just fine on his own. 

Cassandre leaned one shoulder against the wall of the church, observing the goings-on of his fighting gym silently. He had made it very clear to both the vampires and humans present that she was welcome there and most of them were steering clear of her anyways, but she was still sticking to the shadows.

"Hello, love. Like to fight?" 

A voice sounded from behind her and she jumped, turning with her hand instinctively going to her gun. A young man in a carelessly worn black suit held up his hands in immediate surrender. 

"Who are you?" Her suspicion, she thought, was well-warranted, especially with how he'd snuck up on her. 

"Dorien Moreau. I suppose that's a no on the fighting, then?" Cassandre peered around at what everyone else was doing―one of Marcel's vampire lackeys was watching her and Dorien in what he thought was a subtle manner. Two people were sparring in the cage, a bulky man and his friends were lifting weights, and a fragile woman was busting the balls of the punching bag. 

"Fighting cage is taken," she said shortly. Instead of leaving, Dorien just stood next to her. His mouth was shut for less than ten seconds before he opened it again. 

"People like you and me, we do better outside of cages, don't we?" He gestured at the sparring partners. "Humans with a little training. I've had eight hundred years to learn martial arts and you, well, aren't you special?" 

"Your point?" said Cassandre gruffly. 

"You're a Winchester befriended by Marcel Gerard and bearing two very special Marks on her skin. You're immune to nearly all kinds of magic and you have the strong urge to kill every living thing in your sight as well as the enhanced abilities lent to you by those same Marks." The huntress turned to Dorien, eyebrow raised. He shrugged. "I do my research, love. And the Strix likes to keep track of your sort of person." 

Cassandre tensed up further. She cast a heavy look at Marcel, who had just come in with Elijah Mikaelson, and he came over. "Dorien, give us a second, would you?" The vampire shrugged and walked away, twirling a very old knife over his ringed fingers. "You joined the new kids' club and now I have a stalker?"