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◤ 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖞-𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖊𝖊: ❛ no more secrets ❜ ◢
✧
MARISOL WAS NO ARTIST. She doodled flowers sometimes to pass the time, getting fairly well at this one drawing since she had been practicing for years, and now that there was a semblance of peace in New Orleans she felt safe again going out to a café, sitting outside, and doodling flowers mindlessly. A little dab of paint on the petals when she was done sketching, letting her mind wander and forget about the different power plays of the city.
"I'm better now," she told Magnus over the phone, soothing his worries after her last breakdown. She used to call him once a week, before Klaus came to town, but since his arrivals the weeks had been increasingly hectic and she didn't want anyone to hear her talking to Magnus.
They might get ideas, they might go searching, and she would never do anything to place her nephew in danger. He had noticed the drop in calls, asked about it many times, and she had swiftly moved them onto the next subject. Magnus didn't need to know about New Orleans, not until everything was really settled and the baby was born. Then she would tell him, and maybe he would even visit.
Maybe.
Marisol still held her breath on that, the paranoia creeping in that if she did, that would be the one time when something would massively – bigger than anything before – would go wrong and Magnus would be killed. Or maybe, as a power play, Klaus would use him as his next warning to others and rip out his heart. The possibilities were endless, and not exactly unfounded, so perhaps Magnus coming back to New Orleans wouldn't be a good idea.
Except to save Davina, briefly in the night before anyone knew he was there and she was gone. That would be the only exception depending on Davina's decision, and whatever she wanted, Marisol would do for her.
"You don't have to lie to me, it's okay not to be fine. I can come to you at any moment," he assured her.
She laughed a little, dabbing her brush into the paint again then smoothing it over her paper, "As much as I appreciate the effort, it simply isn't necessary. Everything's good here. I'm even sipping a coffee and painting outside listening to someone play the saxophone."
"So it's good?" because, of course, hearing that she felt safe enough to sit outside and let her mind wander instead of being on high alert would be what got him.
"I'm good," she confirmed yet again for him, though she didn't mind because she knew it came from a place of protection and love, "And I'm happy. I met someone."
"You did?" Magnus' tone turned a little coy, pushing forward, "Someone handsome? Someone...not so mundane?"
"Of course he's handsome, have you ever known me to go someone not?" she rolled her eyes, "And he's a vampire. He's...good for me. He's trying to do a lot of good here. You'd like him."
