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chapter thirty-four. voodoo child
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OSCAR MIKAELSON TRIED to not talk about his past as it had always haunted him and as he reached his true biological family, he knew he had to put it behind him. It was a wound in which had been healed and ignored until the Hollow had reached into the depths of his mind and reopened that healed and ignored wound. The mention of Lucina and Leith, who played parental figures within his life, had brought him to digging through the bag he had never touched from the day in which he first arrived to New Orleans alongside the Strix. It was a bag in which he carried around with him and never opened it just possessed things he kept from that lifetime he tried to not haunt him.
That bag was rested onto his bed, placed gently, thought there was nothing inside of it which was fragile but it allowed for him to take his time when coming to open it. There was a talent in which he owned, and he had always wondered where he had received it from as neither Lucina and Leith could paint. Then he come to understand that his true father was a painter, an artist go great nature and it was the talent he possessed. He had been given something from his father and which allowed for the captured painting of Lucina and Leith.
He recalled his life within in the 13th century, recalling the childhood he had wished for no one to face, not even his brother. Loss, violence and threats were not what he wished for Isaac and Hope to face which was why a suggestion played on his mind. His fingers brushed across the rough brown paper, the feel of chalk beneath the touch he had made as he trailed the outline that perfectly made Lucina recognisable.
Oscar knew to draw a smile on the woman's face, as all she did was smile through nurturing him and bringing him to a teen, even when he had done the worse. He had a life filled with love but nothing of normality, and it had made him think of making a suggestion towards his mother who strolled into the room with a smile on her face.
Everyone was proud of Oscar as he had brought Elijah back from the death and the Original was sulking with his return, as though it was filled with relief that he was able to walk by their side, hopefully to the end of time, Hayley Marshall had been avoiding him, not having anything to say. "Hey, Oscar." Esme greeted as he had slipped the folded piece of paper back into his bag filled with antiques and memories he chose to hardly ever touch.
"Mum." Oscar had quickly turned to face his mother while lifting the duffle bag from the bed to return into the trunk at the foot of it.
Esme's brows knitted together in confusion, noticing that the happiness which was supposed to drench their family hadn't reached anyone. "Why is everyone sulking?" She queried and her arms crossed over her chest to study her son who made sure to lock the trunk with use of the key who always held on him. "Elijah is alive and the Hollow is dead. This is a time of victory for our family. Ooh, maybe I can suggest to your father to throw a party--."
