Of Blood and Bone ₰ The Originals

Chapter Three | Fruits of my Labour

To my best friend. I'll always be here when you need me to. So wipe your tears and stand up, and then we can go explore the world.

________ ♛♛♛ ________ ♛♛♛ ________ ♛♛♛

Turning Tables by Adele

I braved a thousand storms to leave you.

________ ♛♛♛ ________ ♛♛♛ ________ ♛♛♛

CHAPTER THREE | FRUITS OF MY LABOUR

     The remnants of a song wafted through the filters of my car as I pressed the pad of my finger to the screen, the woman's falsetto voluting to a halt. I swallow hard and lean my head forward, causing my black hair to sweep around my face. Nervously drumming my fingers on the steering wheel, I let out a huff to untangle the jangle of nerves and rapidly open the door to my car, entering the city of New Orleans.

     The ball of my right foot presses against the cement, curving against my shoe and the pavement that trapped the city's hot fumes. Then, idly, as I take in a deep breath, I look around my proximity.

     Already, I could perceive the heat bearing down upon my back, the sun smiling far too brightly for today. Children gripped their parents hands, their jolly little legs skipping as they grinned messily, rivers of ice cream slithering down the wafer cone, effusing in between their fingers. Coloured paper streams were wrapped around tiny sticks, floating in the air as they ran around each other, the vicinity suddenly alight with colours.

     My car's door slams and closes with a loud thud as I press down at the button on the remote, the sound thumping my cesspool of nerves and anxiety further down my gut and to the tips of my shoes making each step strangely heavy, like magnets were pinning down my feet to the floor. Run away, they whispered, you've laboured enough last year and you've filled your cup to the rim.

     "This is for Hayley. You need to do this." I whispered under my breath, my eyes scanning my much-too familiar environment. A pang of incredulousness hits me as I realise that a microscopic light sensation within me narcissistically desires to catch a glimpse of a certain blue eyed, dirty blond-haired man.

     I shake my head, and let out a sigh.

     Everything appears to be in a haze as each step draws me closer to the Compound, the stronghold of the Mikaelsons. The scents of fried food, the noise of the honking cars, the sensation of my fingers rubbing against each other ― is dulled down to provide a focal vision ahead of me, onto the towering, rectangular building that held the vestige of an old history. A history burdened by boiling blood and turmoil that had left so many family-less and friendless around an archaic fountain that throbbed like a slashed vein, the red of its fallen staining the stone.

     The history of my verity.

     The grilled gates halt me in my walk, and I look up at the shadows the create beyond into the Compound. If I stepped into them, I would be trapped. I always was whenever it came to them. The shadows that claimed my life. And his. My brother. The tenebrae that I had welcomed into my life because I thought that the viscosity of their aegis would protect me from the people who had taken everything from me. The tenebrae that I had relinquished for the city before running into them again to numb the guilt that churned my soul.

     "I almost thought you wouldn't come."

     I look up and give him a sad smile. "She's family. Of course I had to come."