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(𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗢𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹𝘀; 1x11)
..••°°°°••..
Klaus' brows furrow as a horde of nightwalkers dash past him, most with red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks while others looked deeply petrified. The hybrid saunters into the tearoom, freezing as a pacing, riled-up pregnant woman's gaze landed on him, which seemed to only add fuel to a scorching flame.
"Did you make the nightwalkers cry?" Klaus jests, trying to ease the tension ever present between the two. She scoffs, rolls her eyes, and dropped down onto the sofa.
"They're an inept lot. Bloody useless and a half. Then again, their skipper was Marcel—can't fault the students for a deficient teacher." Emery gestures to Klaus' form, "Not that they should be all that hopeful with you at the helm."
Klaus ignores the latter remark directed at himself—he expected it after the bullet in his skull and heart and dick. "And, what, have they done to earn your ire, love?"
"Exist."
Emery lifts her head, narrowing her eyes at his almost patient stance while her perpetual scowl only deepens. Eventually, after scrutinizing him for a short while, she relents, knowing he'd likely be her only solution. "I want my socks, the fuzzy ones. The floor is cold." She stated, glaring down at the cold floor. Klaus felt a cold sweep of dread seep through him as she continued as if he didn't know. He did. "The ones with the honeybees. They're sentimental socks." She clarifies.
Klaus moves to sit beside the sorceress, but one look, and he pauses, getting back on his feet and seating himself on the opposite sofa. "How so?" He inquires in a disbelieving tone.
"There's a lot of indelible memories ingrained into those socks, Niklaus."
"Emery, love... you wore them once, a week ago then threw them into the fireplace back at the Plantation because they weren't—to quote "fuzzy enough"".
Emery's eyes narrow at him—like she's considering taking the lamp and bashing his head in. "Are you saying it's my fault?"
"I'm not suicidal," Niklaus grumbles under his breath.
"What?" She snapped; her thick British accent laced around the word.
"I said I'll find them." He amends quickly.
Emery nods. She doesn't say another word, drawing her eyes to the window. Klaus remains silent, observing the raven-haired woman. He couldn't help it, rather he liked it.
Suddenly, Emery's head snaps back to him, the usual scowl plastered on her lips. "What are you doing idling about here, still? They're not going to walk themselves over."
Niklaus Mikaelson would deny it to his deathbed that he ran out of that room. He muses when he's a safe distance from the room and is certain she can't hear him. "Find burned socks. No problem at all."
