Pray For The Wicked : Kol Mikaelson [2]

136: Moon Over Bourbon Street

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"You're not supposed to be here."

Marcel ignored the question, sliding her balcony door open more.

MJ had wanted some fresh air, why it had been unlocked, and the action forced her to come closer to talk to him.

"What if one of those steps people wanna make for peace is taking your life?"

"That's not a step," MJ answered, "Not a step to progress anyway. Making steps isn't about ruining anyone's life; it's about opening up possibilities."

He stared into her place, looking around, "Gonna invite me in?"

She considered it.

She'd let Josh and Sam in...

"Um," MJ fidgeted.

"You can say no."

"I know!" She waved a hand, "Just...until two years ago, I'd never let a vampire in before...but I don't want to be that untrusting because it's not good for me."

She never wanted to sleep with her hand on a wall, scanning for magic, again.

"Right now, my brain's in a bit of a spiral - trying to stop myself from undoing progress by saying yes, but also – "

"MJ."

She stopped.

"I am the last person you ever have to invite into your home. I just thought I'd ask."

Her face softened as she looked at him, "Thank you."

"Just tell me Klaus can't get in either."

"He can't."

Marcel nodded in approval.

He continued eyeing up what he could see. A lot of art supplies out and about, paintings and sketches she was working on, pictures she was experimenting with by printing out and cutting and painting on top of in different ways. He seemed to focus on one specifically. One she'd actually put up in the living room section.

She'd painted her version of the city after street drawings had overtaken one of the sketchbooks.

The details of the buildings and the roads were clear, and she'd experimented with different brushes to show that it was raining while simultaneously turning all the colours up to eleven. Rich and bright, meant to catch your eye, MJ trying to make a point about how 'bad weather' didn't take away from the life or beauty of a place.

Then she'd used ink to add in the tiniest and subtle supernatural details across the canvas.

She wouldn't say it was her best work, but she was proud of it.

And it was very her.

Marcel seemed to force himself to look away, glancing to the bookshelf, then all the candles littered about.

"Um," He pointed to the flowery decorations hanging down from the ceiling, "Some holiday tradition?"

"A way to try and help Davina's nerves."

Therapeutic crafts.

"That's D's sketchbook too."

"It is," MJ looked over to the coffee table, "She's been crashing here, finally trying out sleeping in her old house again tomorrow night."

He nodded in thanks.

"You haven't been watching her?"

"Thought it might get her in trouble."