Birds Of A Feather || N. Mikaelson

⊳⊳13⊲⊲

❝The way I see it, if you want the rainbow, you gotta put up with the rain.❞

--Dolly Parton

A/N

Does anyone know what happens if you cut off an Originals' head? Just curious on your own opinions on different deaths that might actually kill them. 

Also, this is gonna be a long chapter as an apology for how long it's been since I updated last lol. 

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The soft laughter in the ballroom filled Klaus's ears as he wandered the crowds. He was stopped a few times, pulled into idle, useless conversations that bored him. But he smiled politely, nodding and laughing at the right moments. 

His mind was elsewhere, replaying the dance that had occured not an hour earlier. The memory of Roxanne's swirling skirts, sweet smile, and bright eyes made his chest compress slightly. He was . . . he was developing feelings for her. It was a fact that he wasn't sure how to cope with. 

The hybrid looked over the crowds, aiming to spot her head of blonde hair or the black fabric of her dress. But, she wasn't there. Strange. 

Tilting his chin up slightly, Klaus took in a deep breath and filled his nose with the scents of everyone in the room. Hers wasn't amongst them. Curiosity filled him and he followed the faded scent of her perfume to the back doors and the patio. 

As soon as he stepped outside, he was met with the inky darkness of the night sky and the smattering of stars that were spilled above. Stepping further out into the dark, he inhaled deeply. 

Blood. 

His curiosity had shriveled into concern and the man moved quickly off the porch and into the grass.  His head turned, following the scent that his nostrils warned him of. Where was she? What had been done? 

It was dark and eery out, and the romantic feeling of the ball had melted into a scene from a horror movie. He moved through the grass quickly and carefully, listening for any signs of a threat. His best senses were his nose and his ears, and his second best was his eyes. 

He let his hybrid side slide into place, his blue eyes glowing a molten gold as he looked around the yard and towards the orchard where the smell of blood originated. It was nearly overpowered with the sickly sweet smell of rotting apples. 

There was something laying in the orchard. A shape on the ground that he couldn't quite discern from his current distance. 

Moving at a quick, hurried pace, the man stepped between the trees and down the line between the trees. Her perfume filled the air, mixed with the smell of the fruit and the overpowering smell of blood. 

He stopped at the shape on the ground and his chest tightened. 

She did not look beautiful in death. She looked horrifying. The beautiful blonde was twisted in the grass, her blue eyes were wide open and staring sightlessly up at the black sky. Her lips were parted and smeared with blood, and a dried line dribbled down her chin. 

Her blonde hair was strewn around her, with multiple patches of it dark from the blood that had soaked into the grass and earth. Her dress was ripped and torn at her chest, and a gaping hole sat where her heart had been.