White Blood | Klaus Mikaelson

Chapter Twenty-one

1952 — New York City, New York

   Instead of meeting the Original at The Salmon River in Greenwich Village, Eleanor Fraser decided to spend her day with the two people that had so lovingly become her family. She sat on the table of a diner, legs crossed, mouth gently savouring a fresh strawberry that she had dipped in whipped cream. Her eyes focused on the people that passed them by, couples of all ages, children, dogs, pigeons flying overhead and landing to eat the scraps of bread that were thrown by patrons who didn't want the rest of their sandwiches.

   "Can you believe this?" Thomas scoffed. He had been reading the newspaper, something he had found comforting since his days in the second world war. "Julius and Ethel Rosenberg are sentenced to the electric chair; absolutely appalling!"

   "Well, they did spy for the Soviet Union," Gianni said with a shrug of his shoulders. He grabbed one of the strawberries from Eleanor's plate and pushed it to his mouth, chewing thoroughly while staring intensely at the journal in front of him. "And for being such a doomed couple, they did they the news calmly."

   "Their betrayal of United States atomic secrets to Russia could bring death to many, many thousands of innocent citizens," Thomas scoffed. "The electric chair is less than they deserve. They're lucky that they're getting such mercy."

   "Enough," Eleanor said, straightening her back. "We came out here to have a good time, not to quarrel over a newspaper and what's happening in the world." She let out a sigh as she rested her chin on the back of her hands. Although she had decided not to meet the Original, she couldn't help that her mind went back to him. Over and over again did she think of that man, of the way he stared at her and the way he had so gently given her the rose before she walked away. Those thoughts made her stomach feel strange, made her chest feel strange—feelings she had never felt before. Or had, but were forgotten.

   "Why did we come here?" Gianni asked, a bit of disgust in his voice. "You know that I don't like Time Square so much."

   "We're having a family dinner," she replied with a small smile. "A human dinner. And then, we're going to see An American in Paris at the theatre. It stars Gene Kelly and Leslie Caron."

   "Of course!" Gianni's voice was full of sarcasm. "Gene Kelly, we can't miss him in the big picture, right?"

   Eleanor rolled her eyes. "You don't see me complaining when we go to see a movie with Rita Hayworth."

   "Enough," chuckled Thomas. "Like Eleanor said, we came here to have a good time. Let's do just that, alright?"

   "Fine," Gianni groaned. He tapped the end of the pen against his journal, glancing at the two people he had been with ever since he could remember. "What can we do until we go to the cinema?"

   "I'd like to sit here and eat my strawberries," Eleanor said, pushing what was left of her strawberry to her mouth. "But, what would you like to do, Gianni?" She eyed the redheaded boy with a small smile. 

   It would be a lie if she said that she didn't love him, because she did. Her love for Gianni was different than the love she shared with Thomas and the Originals, but it was still love. She loved him like a sister would love a brother, like someone who would give their life to protect them, like someone who would sacrifice her happiness just so he could continue living. Her love for him was one of the many reasons why she fed him her blood, why she decided to give him an eternity instead of seventy mortal years.

   Gianni shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know..." He continued to tap his pen on the journal, a fast rhythm as both ends hit the top right of the paper. "Honestly, I'm hungry."