☆ 𝗔 𝗥𝗘𝗧𝗘𝗟𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗢𝗙 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗢𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗜𝗡𝗔𝗟𝗦 : what if the child was a teenager/YA throughout the show duration and not at season 5?
After the death of her mother, 17 y/o Deena Salée rummage through her mother's things for answers. She dis...
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𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐂𝐘, Klaus gave Deena the rest of the day and the next to herself. He felt she needed space after their disagreement, but it wasn't long before he found himself standing on the other side of her door. The light movement of a pen could be heard running along paper, made aware of her consciousness. Judging by the lightness of scribbles, she's in a better mood than yesterday. Certainly not feeding off Rebekah's aid, bad-mouthing him.
A light knock on the door and her writing stopped. "Who is it?" She held her breath, curious of the stranger on the other side of the door, though she had an idea of whom it could be by the tang in her voice.
"It's me. Can I come in?"
More movement. "If you want."
Deena sat with her legs crossed on the bed when Klaus entered her bedroom. His eyes couldn't help but wander and feel impressed at her decorative room which reminded him much of Vanessa. Colorful and expressive. From the lime green comforters to the 4x6 fuzzy rug covering the claw marks, to the random flower paintings and vintage records hung on one side of the wall, and open cookbooks stacked messily along the window sofa.
He could not recognize this room as it was before, though he's not complaining. It's a breath of fresh air.
Klaus expected Deena to speak up first, but she sat with patience waiting for him to speak instead. He shoved his hands in his pockets, sucking in a long breath to fill in the awkward void. The plan was better executed in his head. More 'I'm sorry' and 'let's hug it out' involved on her end. Not his.
"Are you going somewhere?" He managed to ask, which wasn't what he was supposed to be saying, but at least it was something.
"No, why?"
"You look," He trailed, motioning toward her outfit. Jean shorts paired with a black frills shirt hanging off her shoulders with lace sleeves. Besides her unique scent being drowned in fruity perfume, he noticed the light blush along her cheeks and her glossy lips matching a light color of eyeshadow, and her hair braided down into two. He'd been around more than enough women to learn they would never waste a good look pondering in their bedroom. "all dressed up. I hope it's not for that boy you told me about. What was his name again? Todd? Demetry? Josh?"
