Lights Flicker And Fade : Kol Mikaelson [3]

286: Do We Get What We Deserve?

a/n: We've got some Hollow lore changes this chapter...I hope people enjoy it, as we get more of them popping up/more of the story, in a similar vein to when I started bringing in Voodoo with Ryos, I've tried to use some mythos from actual Louisianan Natives, while twisting it slightly to match what TO needs it to be, so...hopefully enjoy x

Also, once again sorry about the gap (even I had to do a lil reread to remember where MJ was at lol) I've had such an insanely busy few months - love you all so much
- Bea x

MJ had rearranged her typical set-up, snapping her fingers to turn the judge podium into a nice table, trying not to question how the thing had spawned its own table cloth, tiny birds embroidered across the edges. She summoned a teapot, two matching cups, and saucers. With all the greenery around, it felt almost amusing that the cups had decided to be covered in daintily painted roses.

None of it was real, and yet, everything managed to feel kinetic, as she poured, a steaming orange liquid appeared, her guest carefully taking a seat.

"Is it insensitive to serve tea?" MJ raised an eyebrow, "Do you even have a mouth?"

The mask was pulled up, and her breath caught.

The woman's skin was flawless and warm, lips gently sipping, no hesitation towards the potential heat, thick brown hair neatly braided into an up-do. She moved so smoothly it made the reality of her situation that much more confusing, eyelids sewn shut, bloody scars across her cheeks, just about holding the feature in place.

And, to make it worse, somewhere in her mind, MJ recognised her.

She took her own seat, "Are you in pain?"

The woman's lips almost smiled.

"I...I can undo it?" She didn't know if that was true, "I mean, if you died this way – "

"You aren't as violent as we anticipated."

MJ narrowed her eyes.

Why did she know this face?

Were the lack of eyes throwing her off? Was it the way her hair held charm – maintained care? Had her mask come off during their chase?

"It's almost part of the problem."

"I blew your little realm to pieces," MJ let herself sip too, "If that's not violent?"

Her taste buds were greeted by a drink she hadn't had in years, because, well, this was the first time anything had actually come from her summoning's. It didn't drink quite right, and the colour was slightly off, but the attempted apple cinnamon goodness filled her chest with warmth - one of her regulars, and a special, at The Grill.

"Then again, you were chasing me with an axe..."

"You'd stolen our property," The woman reminded her, something wistful beneath the phrase, "We were doing our duty."

Sometimes, MJ was convinced she could still hear The Nwa's whimpering in the back of her mind. It made sense. Part of her soul was in it, of course she could sense it's sentient judgement, but that didn't mean she had to like it.

"I should probably start with an apology," The woman's vocabulary was almost too modern, "I am sorry my descendant felt the need to target you."

MJ put her cup back to the table.

"My family has a complicated relationship with our heritage," She mimicked the choice, pushing her saucer forward, "I am the only one who will ever find this plane."

"Okay," MJ paused, "There's a long list of people who've tried to kill me – "

"My name is Marie," She let the French accent slip in, "Marie Ajan."