LITTLE WITCH ▹ THE ORIGINALS

thirty-two; a limitless power

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The teen's eyes moved around the group - or, family - in front of her. A polite smile appeared on her face (whether it was real or not, was another question). "It's nice to meet you. I-I've - uh - heard a lot about you all," she said, trying to push her nervous stuttering problem back down her throat. 

"Please, please, come in, you two," the older woman replied, widening the doorway. Remi nodded, with Armand following in her footsteps. "I'm Vivian DeMarco, your grandmother," she spoke, the edges of her lips twitching upwards to reveal her perfect teeth. "And this is Brian DeMarco, my husband and your grandfather."

Remi nodded her head once again. The house was dimly lit, yet somehow bright at the same time. A grande staircase was in the middle of the foyer, with two rooms on either side just before it. The doorway on the right appeared to lead to an elegant living room and eventually a kitchen, and the doorway on the left was completely shut, festooned with rustic key-based locks. 

"I'm Grant-" another man piped in, who she assumed was her uncle- "and this is Mira," he gestured to an attractive woman beside him, presumably her aunt. Their voices were slightly monotone but held an edge to them, similar to Armand's voice, one that she had become accustomed to over the last few days.

"And this," Vivian, her grandmother, spoke. "Is Daniel, your cousin." A black-haired boy just a few years younger than her shuffled out from Mira's side. He most definitely was her son, judging by the matching birthmarks just above their upper lips. 

"Hi," he shyly said, with a quick wave of his hand. That action reminded Remi of how she greeted Hayley when the two first met. Even though they had only ever truly interacted a few times, Remi found herself missing the little things in life - things that she had taken for granted before. 

It wasn't that she was terribly miserable being with her father, no, it just was just a case of homesickness. Sure, there was something slightly nerve-wracking about wandering around the United States with a man she barely knew, but something told her to stay. It was almost as if she couldn't walk away, like something was forcing her to stay back. 

Remi smiled back at the boy, internally repeating all the names of that had just been thrown at her. 'Vivian and Brian, grandparents. Grant and Mira, uncle and aunt. Daniel, cousin. Okay, easy enough . . .' 

 "You two must be exhausted from the ride. You came from New Orleans, I heard?" Brian said, leading the group into the open living room, and taking a seat on the couch.

Armand popped down on an armchair, and Remi took a seat on its matching one. "I'm actually okay. I guess I fell asleep in the car or something," the teen said, chuckling awkwardly. Tough crowd.

"Yeah, it was a long ride," Armand nodded, his eyes plastered to the floor. "New Orleans was beautiful, though."

"I've always wanted to go to New Orleans," young Daniel piped up from his mother's side. "But my mom always says no. She thinks that it's too dangerous."

"Daniel," Mira gently reprimanded her son, her eyes swiftly meeting his.

"No, it's okay. Your mom's probably right, Daniel. New Orleans can be dangerous sometimes - but so can every city, I guess. It's just a matter of being around the right people. Otherwise, it's a great place," Remi said and offered up a small smile, of which the boy mirrored.

"Thank you, Remi," Vivian curtly interjected, letting her hands fall into her lap. "I suppose my belated condolences are in order. I was so sorry to hear about your mother and aunt. Our families never did get along, but they seemed like . . . lovely women."