1919, New Orleans
New Orleans was a wide and vast city; news often spread swift and hastily. The fraction were beginning to become increasingly concerned at the rise of power of a man named Papa Tunde.He was a warlock making his name known to all in the city, especially considering his method of magic.
Whilst many witches practised through nature or ancestral magic, Papa Tunde had a much sinister approach, much to the distain of the traditional witches of New Orleans.
Sacrificial magic was frowned upon by the majority of the witches, it was considered dark, damnable even.
It was evident he was a force to be reckoned with, something made clear when he'd dared to give Klaus the head of the human mayor. Now the warlock was running around the city, sacrificing any young vampire, human, witch or werewolf.
Pursing her lips, Astrid found herself glancing up anxiously at the sight of one of Nik's henchman's entering the room.
His head was bowed respectfully, and he seemed rather sheepish, fingers twitching and legs shaking as he approached.
Raising her brow, Astrid felt her stomach sink when she finally met his sombre gaze.
Something was wrong. Her stomach was twisting and churning painfully as she licked her lips. "What's happened?"
He hesitated. "We found another vampire sacrificed in the city of the dead. Your friend, Eve." He clarified, watching as Astrid stood, the glass of wine slipping from her fingers.
The crystal glass shattered, red wine staining the Persian rug, and splashing up the cream sofa.
Astrid supposed at this point she should have been used to losing the people she cared dearly for. Ivar, her mother, Rose-Marie, Katerina and now Eve.
Loss was something she was unfortunately familiar with, but that didn't ease the pain. Eve had been so young, but now she was gone and Astrid hadn't been there to protect her.
Her body seemed to be in some sort of mechanical mode as she pushed past the vampire, storming up the stairs, eyes focused on the large oak door that lead to her husband's office.
Without knocking, Astrid pushed the door open loudly to find Klaus sat at his desk, the telephone held to his ear.
He raised his eyebrows in surprise as his wife ripped the telephone from him by tugging on the cord. She shoved it back on the holder, hanging up on whoever had been on the other line as her husband scowled.
Niklaus didn't seem to impressed as he sent his wife a glare.
"That was important, love-" He began in a scolding tone, only to be cut off by his wife.
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𝐖𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄, klaus mikaelson
Fanfiction🌻✨ ◝.*・゚ "𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥, 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐮𝐬."