Born of Chaos ☽ E. Mikaelson¹

twenty-seven ☽ haunted

The funeral of Father Kieran O'Connell was preempted with an obscene amount of drink and festivities, in Irish tradition, of course. Elijah sat down with his brother at a table in the bar.

"Seems rather uncivilized, to laugh and dance around the body of a loved one," Klaus grumbled, his eyes trained on the bottle of scotch that sat in the centre of the table. Elijah reached for the bottle, refilling his glass before replacing it in its original spot.

"Yes, far better to practice your process of grief, Niklaus–denial, rage, and hoarding coffins in basements," Elijah listed dryly, taking a sip.

That was when Hayley joined them, likely being the only person sober in that bar due to obvious reasons.

"I will warn you, Hayley, Niklaus is in a spectacularly foul mood today."

"Oh, 'cause you've been a bloody riot since Cora left," Klaus muttered in agitation, clearly submitting to the mass amounts of alcohol he'd already consumed that day.

"So, I'm to presume your poor mood has to do with the woman I love leaving New Orleans?"

"She was the only witch that actually liked us," Klaus pointed out. Hayley looked at the hybrid with a frown.

"Is that what the holdup with the moonlight rings is? The lack of witches that like you? Cause Oliver's trying to set a revolution every five seconds, people are scared, angry, and frankly, I'm tired of stalling."

Klaus let out the heaviest of sighs. Cora leaving had put a kink in his plans but that was the lowest on his list of concerns at the moment.

"It's a day of peace, Hayley. Try and enjoy it. And, in the meantime, with all manner of unknown enemies conspiring against our family, you'll move back in with us," Klaus said, as firmly as he could for someone under the influence. Hayley rolled her eyes, a reaction that seemed a rather common occurrence following whenever she heard what Klaus had to say.

"Awesome!" Hayley said sarcastically, leaning on the table. "Then, we can do that thing where you lock me in the tower, I escape, there's drama, and then you two both realize I'm very capable of looking after myself."

"The rings are in progress. I will live up to my word. We will find and punish whoever launched the attack on the bayou, and you will return to the compound for your own safety! But, right now," Klaus reached for the table's bottle of scotch. "I'm gonna finish this bottle, and the next, in the hopes of drowning the demon who has chosen today to haunt me. Cheers, Mikael. Impeccable, Freudian timing."

Klaus started to chug the bottle, clearly intent on replacing the water content in his body with alcohol. When Elijah heard what his younger brother had to say, he froze in his seat.

"Elaborate."

The stunned expression on Elijah's face threw Hayley for a loop as he'd always been so composed. Her eyebrows creased in concern as she watched the brothers.

"Have you dreamt of our father?" Elijah asked carefully. He wasn't sure which answer he would have preferred at that moment.

"Go ahead, have a good laugh."

"I can assure you there is no piece of this that I find even remotely amusing, Niklaus. Especially considering I've been dreaming of him, too."

Dreaming was a rather mild term to use. Mikael had been blatantly tormenting him through nightmares. It had started tepidly, but lately, it had been escalating. Mikael had been twisting his fondest memories, especially those of Cora.

"What?" Klaus asked, his poor mood shifting to that of horrified surprise.

"If you are also seeing him..." Elijah paused mid-thought as he noticed Genevieve enter Rousseau's. The witch dared to smile at him. "Perhaps our elusive, unknown enemy is orchestrating a further attack?"