Camille's POV:
Roaming through the Town Square, I examine my surroundings; spotting a familiar painting that has always been showcased for show in front of the fountain. A painting - who else would cross my mind.
The way I figure it, he wasn't the monster, he wasn't the psychotic Original people made him out to be - he had his dreams, he had plans - well all do.
At the end of the day - when he wasn't temporarily dead - he can be the good guy. And boy, can he be harsh, brutal. Murderous. But merely as almost every soul, he is capable of forgiveness, even over the countless malevolent acts achieved by himself;
He's Klaus.
I don't think of him often, quite ever. But what Marcel explained to me about two months ago - how it happened, I must.
...By his own brother?
My stomach clenches among my thoughts, acknowledging the betrayal portrayed between the brothers sneaks under my skin.
And I know, surely, if I wasn't ever compelled, if I hadn't known about the supernatural at all - things would be different. I wouldn't wonder what on earth was the first immortal kind, I would not, even for a second, worry about a vampire draining out the blood of me. Or a witch creating a hemorrhage within my brain just by the snap of a finger. There wouldn't be so many questions. And with the simple concentration of an eye and mind, you can be controlled. Do whatever it is a vampire wants from you. Gladly, and again I think gladly, there's vervain.
Gratefully, before I was on vervain, Marcel had compelled me to know of them all; the blood craving vampires, the werewolves, the witches - 'simple' information. Fast and quick - easier than I would imagine handling it if the mystic plant substance had been in my system.
As for the day before; I was scrubbing down tables, serving drinks at the bar. Now I guess I'm like the few out there who are... aware. And yet, I still casually walk about in the city, examining the paintings, the live music booming in the streets.
Saint Patricks Day is slowly approaching, concluded in one of the city's many celebrated times of year. Give it a few weeks and townies will be hurdling the streets, blurs of green and gold in every corner of New Orleans. Usually I would gather family and friends at the Bar and Grill, just enjoy our time. This year, with everything changed, different - I intend to do the same. What's stopping me?
Entering in the coffee shop just outside of the Town Square, I take in the strong aroma of ground coffee and muffins. It's not too jam packed as it usually is around February, this exact time of year, but just the amount of few people in here for a perfect getaway - clear the mind.
Taking a seat at a small table in the corner, I claim one chair out of two. I plunge my hands into my purse for the novel I haven't finished, yet, but I see movement next to me.
Across me, a young woman takes the seat opposite of me, her face showcasing a friendly smile. Well... she must feel welcomed. Sure, sit. Out of all the empty tables around.
I force a smile in return, meeting with her dark green irises that somehow - remind me of a forest, the color of tall leafy trees looming behind them. Her skin is porcelain, nearly sparkling under the sunlight breaking through the glass window plastered on the wall beside the table. Her hair glows a deep red-brown and the waves pass her shoulders, lying loose beneath her visible collar bones.
She plasters a grin, "I hope you don't mind me sitting here," her bright eyes stare into mine.
I offer a full smile, "Oh no, you're fine!" I reach out my hand to shake hers - if we're going to be sitting here for who knows how long, might as well exchange names. "I'm Cammie." I say.
