Seventy-Five

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"He's more myself than I am

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"He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same."

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    "WE'VE TRANSLATED ALL the symbols on the tattoo." Caroline spoke, her eyes roaming over the symbols placed in front of her with a frustrated passion. She began to recite the words. The millionth time this hour. "'Passage inside requires a young senator and a pretty flower.' Okay, none of this makes sense!"

    The blonde had resorted to yelling quite some time ago. At least she only grumbled obscenities at Klaus under her breath. Though she wasn't as inconspicuous as she thought.

Not that I minded. I, myself, had tried to convince the original to help them—though it was not for the benefit of my brothers or Miss Gilbert. Never for them.

I had my own agenda for wanting into that tomb. Well, me and my lovely accomplice.

    Caroline made a frustrated noise, throwing her notecards on the table. I cringed, saying meekly, "I swear if I spoke Aramaic I would help you."

    Care sighed, "I know." her eyes flickered to the man at my side. The man who coincidentally did speak Aramaic and refused to do anything. The man whose arm was also snaked around my waist, rubbing idle circles on my skin.

It wasn't a display of affection. Not really. It was more of...Klaus's way of rubbing salt in the wound to my friends. Making them uncomfortable. On edge.

I didn't really have it in me to object, granted he was practically giving me a massage and I was in desperate need of relaxation.

    Honestly, being stuck in this living room, I couldn't care less anyway.

    But seeing Caroline's frustrated look, and realizing how terribly this was slowing down the process, I elbowed Klaus in the ribs.

    He grunted, folding over and clutching his side before he looked back up at me with irritation. I widened my eyes at him, tilting my head toward Caroline.

    He rolled his eyes at me. This had been a common occurrence all day.

    I turned away from him with a half-hearted scoff, looking back to my friend as I watched her mull over the symbols once more.

    Vaguely, I saw Klaus smirk from my peripheral vision, righting himself as he did. He opened his mouth, voice smooth as stone and soft as water as he spouted words in a foreign tongue I could not understand.

    I looked to him, quickly recognising the language as something similar to what he had spoken earlier.

    It was hot.

𝔅𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔬𝔣 ℑ𝔪𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔱𝔞𝔩𝔰 x Klaus MikaelsonWhere stories live. Discover now