wicked • davina claire

II - dark crusades

"SIRIUS, DO NOT PEE IN MY BLOOD!"

Woof! The troublesome corgi replied as he  skipped out of Klaus' immediate reach. He seemed to stick his tongue out and mock the Original Hybrid who was scarily close to picking up the damn mutt and throwing him off the hotel balcony.

However, Klaus controlled his temper and instead offered Sirius a biscuit. For some reason he was unable to abandon Sirius as he had originally planned going into New Orleans. Perhaps it was because the annoying runt of a dog had managed to wiggle its way into his heart, but the more probable explanation would be that Lilura loved Sirius, and Klaus was unwilling to part with the last reminder of his siren.

Sirius gobbled down his treat and jerked his fluffy head up, massive brown eyes widening as he barked at the door. Klaus strained his ears and listened as well, taking note of Sirius' wagging tail. That was a good sign. He was too tired to deal with anymore supernatural inconveniences.

The door swung open and Sirius ran toward it, barking insistently for the young man to come inside.

"Evening, Judas," Klaus said, hardly looking bewildered at his son's appearance. "To what do I owe this...surprise?"

"You!"

Klaus frowned. "Me?" He echoed, letting his blue eyes examine Judas' riled up state. "Are you alright?"

"When did you do it?!" Judas ignored Klaus concerned questioned. It was all a ruse anyway. The Original Hybrid couldn't possibly care about his son if he didn't care about his dead wife. He stared down Klaus' nonchalant stance with glaringly bright green eyes.

"Do what, precisely? If you recall, I've been alive for a thousand or so years. The events become quite hazy when decades blur into centuries, if you know what I mean."

Judas' eyes and nostrils flared. With a blink of the eye, the young hunter had grabbed Klaus' jacket by the fistful and slammed him into the glass coffee table.
Consequently, it shattered on impact, cutting up Judas Mikaelson's fists until blood dripped onto the wooden floors.
"You pig! You absolutely disgusting piece of decomposed crap! How could you?"

Klaus laid on the floor, surrounded by shards of bloody glass. He only looked up at Judas, a sign of tired defeat in his eyes. "I didn't mean any harm in it."

"Oh really??" Judas spat, bringing his fist out and biting his knuckles, trying to stop his hand from connecting with Klaus' cheekbone. The taste of blood stained his lips. "No harm no foul?"

"Exactly. I'm a little ashamed, I'll admit. However, the anger had to go somewhere right? In the end, I didn't hurt any—"