❝ Petit à petit, l'oiseau fait son nid ❞
IN WHICH A POWERFUL FRENCH QUARTER TEENAGE WITCH SEEKS TO DISMANTLE KLAUS MIKAELSON
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[ THE VAMPIRE DIARIES / THE ORIGINALS ]
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CONDITIONS . . . THERE WERE ALWAYS CONDITIONS when it came to the two girls' sovereignty. While limited, Marcel would take great precautions to ensure that Fallon and Davina were not solely confined to St. Anne's attic. Following the Harvest massacre, the two witches had only wandered New Orleans twice: once, when Davina desired hand-picked paint, and second, for Fallon's brother's funeral. Following the disappearance of his younger sister, the eighteen-year-old sought the same outcome. One day, he was here. The next, gone. When Marcel told Fallon that his nightwalker discovered his drained body, she did not utter a word for an entire week. She allowed her mind to wander, to formulate her suspicions on what had ended his life – or, who. Like Klaus Mikaelson.
Today, Fallon returned to her deafening silence – a silence that had yet to be discovered by her flatmate.
"This sucker's resilient. He's like a cockroach in a suit," Marcel announced, looking from Elijah's coffin and then to the two girls; both did not return his gaze.
Fallon did not remember him entering their room and much less remembered the conversation he had with Davina. The words seemed to be like haunting waves on a dark night: she would hear something that would soon recede, before uncontrollably crashing on the sand.
"Fal?" The wave violently crashed.
The girl quickly looked up to see Marcel and Davina staring at her, both sharing a look of concern.
Marcel walked to the door and slightly cracked it. "D, could you please give Fallon and me a moment in private?"
"If only that means I can go to the Dauphine Street Music Festival."
Upon a laugh from Marcel, insistent Davina happily rocked on her heels at her win and quickly exited the attic before he could change his mind. Marcel shut the ajar door and found his way to the end of the witch's bed, observing a normally outspoken girl bathe in an unusual silence. While Fallon overtly huffed at the concern plastered on Marcel's face, she secretly felt an immeasurable amount of warmth for a person who she had more recently considered her family.
"Fal," he began, looking into her emotionless eyes. "Talk to me, what's wrong?"
Fallon sat herself upwards on the bed and played with her fingernails as she spoke. "Um, it's my brother's birthday today. Just not feeling in the Street Festival mood."
"You know he cared about you, Fallon, and he's here with you. He's proud of you," Marcel whispered, watching as Fallon quivered. He could tell that she was suppressing a quiet sob. "Hey, I know you're not in the Festival mood, but a friend of mine is going to be there. She also lost her brother, I think you both could really help one another. Maybe you could meet up with her later tonight? Only if you feel up to it."
