Bloom || HOPE MIKAELSON x RYAN CLARKE

11] TWITTERPATED

For all his centuries of life, he couldn't recall a single restful night.
This one was no exception to the rule as he'd only managed to close his eyes to a fistful semi-slumber. Actually, the lack of sleep was starting to catch up with him but he couldn't bring himself to lay down for half a second.

This peculiar morning, he'd followed Hope to the cemetery despite her claims that she wanted to be left alone.

He watched from afar as her father tried to reason with her.
He could feel the guilt oozing out of her in waves, surrounding her and threatening to crush her any moment.

He'd never really thought about the way Hope had triggered her curse -after all, he was no saint either- but watching her like this, her father desperately trying to plead with her while she shed tear after tear over the memorial to the innocent person she'd killed, he found that he had no idea how to feel at all.
For all his good intentions, this was a turn-tables he hadn't anticipated.

Too many emotions were swirling around in his mind; for the first time in... forever.

Guilt.

Pity.

He also knew shame when he saw it; centuries of mistreatment had made sure to carve their imprint in his poor soul.

Did he even have a soul?

The question came up often.

He had thoughts.
Ideas.
Mischief.

I think therefore I am. He remembered the day he'd acknowledged this thought aloud for the first time, pressed by some politician whose name he didn't even remember.

The everlasting question on the existence of his soul didn't matter anymore.
His soul didn't even matter anymore.

The only thing that mattered was Hope's soul -and her heart, always her heart.

If he'd been there just a second earlier, he could have done something.

To his mind, her father had been inconsiderate.

Klaus was a vampire, an Original for crying out loud, he should have realized that Declan wasn't the only wounded human roaming the church attic.
Then, he should have either saved that Bill man, or killed him himself. Ryan wouldn't have hesitated. Not for a second.

His glare burning a hole through the hybrid's skull, he barely noticed when he stepped out of his vicinity. He made to sidestep the tombstone he was huddled under, only to be stopped short by a mocking voice behind him.

''You seem to spend a lot of your free time in graveyards. Should I be concerned?''

''How is she?'' he ignored the cutting remark, but his question must have been thoughtful because Klaus drew a sigh.

The original took a step closer and they both peered at his daughter from behind the ominous crypt.

''Hard to tell. She feels... guilty, that much I'm certain of.''

''Guilty or not, she'll have to go through the turn.''

''The next full moon is in a week. That gives her little time to prepare.''