Bloom || HOPE MIKAELSON x RYAN CLARKE

5] SIS VIS PACEM, PARA BELLUM

Ryan's night had been eventful to say the least, though not in the way anyone would have liked.

He'd woken up groaning and writhing in pain and a quick glance in the mirror had him irritated. His form was breaking down even faster than he thought and he tugged on his collar in a futile attempt to try and hide it better.

The cherry on top of the cake?
Instead of enjoying what, to his knowledge, were the last few days of his life, he'd been called by Freya and brought to the old mill again.

And now here he was, watching with an aggravated eye as Hope tried and tried again to let her werewolf senses kick in.
For the past hour, she'd been trying to leap onto the platform upstairs with the benefits of her DNA, but after the fifth consecutive missed shot, he'd released a sigh and took a seat.

Reaching up again, the young girl leaped and, this once, her heels pushed off the floor and her body followed suit. She escalated the balcony faster than he knew was humanly possible.

''Pretty cool, huh?'' Hope climbed down just as fast, landing before her aunt, ''What do you think?''

''I think I wish I had more muscles than you.''

''And that's nothing compared to what I'll be able to do once I trigger my werewolf side.'' she seemed excited by the thought, but Ryan couldn't bring himself to feel the same level of enthusiasm for her.

Freya and Hope continued on the matter, the older one asking her niece if she really felt comfortable with the possibility of having all two hundred and six bones in her body breaking to come back together as a wolf's skeleton.

''I just think it's not what your mom wanted for you.''

''Wants,'' she corrected, ''Not what she wants for me.''

His eyes caught the dust on the floor, try as he might to hide his disappointment.
He'd never had much hope, faith nor belief for anything in his long life, and so he'd turned thoughts over in his head all night, pondering the possibility that Hayley may never be found.

He was so deep in thoughts he didn't realize someone had sat down on the crate beside him until she spoke.

''Are you okay?'' Hope asked, bringing his attention to her. She took a sip of her water bottle, and he sighed.

''I'm fine,'' he nodded, ''Just tired is all.''

''Yeah... following me around must be pretty exhausting. I'm sorry you were dragged into this. Oh, I'm sorry that I'm sorry.''

He chuckled, the sound barely audible but enough to bring a smile to her lips.

Hope hid her blush and glanced at Freya, only to find her gone.

''Are you okay?'' he asked, bringing the focus back to who he belonged. Although dying, it had never been good to bring attention to himself.

''Not really,'' she admitted, ''I mean, my dad is trying to find my mom and I'm sure he has very effective methods but... if it comes down... aunt Freya thinks...'' she trailed off, afraid of what might be the outcome of what she hoped was just a macabre thought.

''If there's anyone who can track people, it's Klaus Mikaelson.'' he assured, watching the side of her face as her shoulders slumped.

''Yeah... his father was pretty good at it too. Step-father, I guess. Whatever.''

''I heard. Mikael, he, who has burnt cities to the ground in pursuit of his children. Or something like that.''

Hope laughed half-heartedly.