Birds Of A Feather || N. Mikaelson

⊳⊳8⊲⊲

❝I won't be afraid just as long as you stand, stand by me.❞ - Ben E. King "Stand By Me"

⊳⊳|⊲⊲

The dark, night sky spread out high above. Stars sat shining, as they had for thousands of years and would for thousands yet. In the lateness of the night, the smear of the Milky Way was barely visible. A colorful smudge against the dark, vastness of the inky void. 

The hybrid had always been a little fearful of the night sky. It made him feel weak and powerless, which wasn't a feeling he was used to. It promised secrets and mysteries he felt he'd never have the answers too. Looking up at it always made his breath catch in his throat and his undead heart, beat a little faster. 

His icy blue eyes moved away from the vastness of space to the grassy lawn to his left. The stunning, strange blonde lay lounged in the grass. Her hair was a messy tangle around her head, her eyebrows were creased and she had an almost angelic look to her. 

A bit of drool stained her chin and dribbled to the grass. She had grass stains on her cheek and dirt in her hair. Her mascara was smudged under her eyes and her fist was bunched next to her parted lips. An ant crawled across her nose. 

She looked so normal. So natural and completely at ease in the comfort of the Mother's embrace. As he stared at her, messy and jaw-dropping, he felt this emotion he'd come to recognize as familiarity, bubble up inside of his chest and blow apart his heart. Clawing at his insides and at his skull. Trying to force him to remember where he knew her from. 

She vexed him, and angered him. But, she was so incredibly beautiful. He knew her. He knew he knew her. Beyond the coffee shop, he knew her personally. He could feel it. Like a part of his soul was lying right there, waiting for him to just figure it out. It felt like it was just out of reach. 

He wanted to grab her, to shake her until his soul came back. Until the memories could be reached and this maddening feeling of confusion was gone. 

He'd contemplated whether or not she was telling the truth. For a minute there, he'd even contemplated if she was the Ghostess. But, he decided she couldn't be. Roxanne seemed too tame. He sensed the power in her, but he didn't believe she was the monster that hunted history. 

He could never see the Ghostess playing twenty questions under the stars. Or sleeping in the grass, with mascara stains and drool. She began to snore softly, burying her face into her arm and letting out the softest grunt. 

It was so, utterly entrancing. Klaus would've been happy sitting there all night, just watching her. Observing how she slept and lay and he was dying to know what she dreamed about. This desire to be inside her mind was a powerful one, and he wasn't sure if he could stop himself from doing it. 

Gently, the hybrid stood and picked her up. His arms gathered her up, sliding under her legs and behind her back. He placed her hands around his neck and she quickly buried her face into his shirt. A soft whimper coming from her parted lips. The ant was gone. 

The air was chilly, but still held the taste of the summer warmth. It tugged on his curls and tussled her blonde hair. Moving between the strands and bringing with it the smell of her citrus shampoo. Her vanilla body wash. He inhaled slightly and then exhaled quickly, expelling the thoughts that were gathering in his mind. The hybrid moved towards the house, making sure not to jostle or wake the girl in her sleeping state. 

It was perplexing to him, who she was. What she was doing there and what she meant by the things she said. That the Ghostess loved him, but was going to kill him. His paranoia was strong, and he always suspected someone was trying to kill him. But, the Ghostess was the first time since Mikael's death he felt a little more than worried. She was known for her brutality, for her dangerousness and he feared for his family's safety.