𝕯𝖊𝖋𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖛𝖊 - [𝗘𝗹𝗶𝗷𝗮𝗵 𝗠𝗶𝗸𝗮𝗲𝗹𝘀𝗼𝗻] (DISCONTINUED)

𝐯. the parched stag

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 - the parched stag

━━━━━━━

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐃 her ground, a step in front of Davina. Her stance was ridged even though she knew that he wouldn't make a move against them but she didn't care. The originals were dangerous, beyond dangerous as a matter of fact ,and an original vampire with greying skin and a craving for even a single drop of blood?

Ophelia wasn't taking the chance.

It was in that small moment that she realized, that even though she had promised she wouldn't allow herself to care for another the way she did her brother, she would throw herself in front of Davina without hesitation, even if it meant that fangs would pierce her neck and drain her blood.

Opposite her, Elijah did his best to concentrate. His veins felt like sandpaper, his gums ached, begging him to allow his fangs to shine through and drain the bodies in the room. He couldn't tear his gaze away from Ophelia's neck. He could hear and see the thudding of her carotid artery and desired nothing more than to dig in. His dark and hungry eyes slowly moved from the pulsating skin to the women's eyes.

She didn't seem frightened. Her stare was intense and her eyes followed his every movement. He could easily see the care she held for the young witch behind her. It struck him as strange; Davina was a powerful witch and yet there Ophelia was, guarding her with her life. His eyes moved across her face; her features were soft and contrasted the look that most would presume to be intimidating.

Her face was more rounded and baby-like, freckles dusted her bare skin and her eyes reminded him of the whiskey he and Klaus would drink after solving a disagreement. But they looked old, much wiser than the years displayed through her face. Her eyes, though fierce, held an underlying tone of sadness. In his mind, she was beautiful; her curled hair flowed down her back in long, messy waves and he could see the small splatters of mud on the hem of her light dress.

The scent of her blood, however. It broke through everything, especially in his present state. His throat felt as dry as a desert and he could feel the veins beneath his eyes become more prominent as the sweet scent was breathed in.

"You're the one they call honorable." Davina's small yet strong voice chimed from behind Ophelia, peering around the woman just slightly.

"Yes, that's they call me. And yet, I followed my brother here to New Orleans to engage in a war." Elijah briefly looked towards Davina before his eye line settled back on the older woman, his lips twitching into a small smile as he took a step and settled into a seat, "So, I ask you-does that sound honorable to you?"