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❝ moral of the story is: we all run away from the things we want most. ❞
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IT IS THE OLDEST STORY; there is a boy. You think you know how the rest goes. He has sea-storm eyes and the bones under the skin of his wrist are the most graceful you have ever seen. You would like to plant flowers at the juncture of his neck and shoulder and set stars into every vertebrae of his spine.
The story goes: your eyes meet, your hearts jump, true love. Every second sinking into the way your hand finds his. Disambiguation. Love rises, crests, plateaus. A steady burning ache. He denies it—the way scared boys tend to. Finds excuses to be away from the way you make him feel. Love is not for everyone. There is a certain kind of courage in allowing yourself to fall. And he has only ever known how to fly.
Perhaps that is why Enola found it so hard to believe that Klaus had been in love with other women. Especially ones who leave a rotting corpse on the ground of the compound with a love letter attached like a care package. He had only chased women who were uninterested in him which is why she herself was such a worthy candidate. His ex lover, however, seemed unhinged.
Enola perked up at the sound of footsteps entering the compound. She had put her daughter down for a nap before heading to the kitchen for a little snack when she suddenly tripped over this dead body that lay on the ground of the courtyard. She scanned over the note she found on the poor victim with a clenched jaw when Elijah and Klaus rounded the corner, blissfully unaware of what was waiting for them not too far away.
"So my first sire wants to kill you. Yours wants to kill me." Klaus noted. "Makes you regret turning any vampires in the first place."
"Well, the division of labor seems crystal clear." Elijah shrugged. "Two of them, two of us—"
Elijah and Klaus froze at the entrance of the courtyard. Elijah remained still and Klaus made the short distance over to Enola. She wordlessly handed him the little note that came along with the dead body. She kept her gaze hard as he scanned the sheet of paper. She refused to look at him, afraid of what she might find swimming deep within his eyes.
"Roses are red. Lavender is blue. Come find me before I find you. Signed Aurora." Klaus read out loud. His eyes flickered up to his fuming wife. "I remember her a better poet."
"Oh, I wouldn't say that this is lacking in poetry." Elijah muttered, stepping forward to examine the corpse.
"She wants us to find her, so let's." Klaus nodded.
