Broken Promises (An Elijah Mikaelson LS)

Witch, Vampire, and Husband Problems

Lorelei found herself in a place she hadn't expected to ever return to – Davina's room. It was still in disarray from the wind gust she had mustered. Lorelei was slow, brushing her fingers over some of the witch's belongings and righting things as she went. She was surprised to find a violin so delicately placed on Davina's desk, as if in honor. She hadn't known the girl to play any instruments, only to draw.

That was how Elijah found Lorelei, sitting on Davina's bed while she examined the charcoal sketches the young witch had drawn while sensing magic. "There you are," he called to her softly. "Here I am," Lorelei replied, glancing up at him through long lashes. "When I dismissed the others, I hadn't meant for you to leave," he started, carefully stepping into the room. "It's all right. I had a thought that wouldn't stop lingering," she huffed, eyes returning to the sketches.

"And this thought has something to do with Davina's drawings," Elijah stated rather than asked. He knew Lorelei wouldn't be in here if it wasn't. "Frightfully morbid, I'm aware. But we never did figure out why she drew those pictures of Celeste," Lorelei said, hoping the twinge of jealous pain she felt in her chest wasn't noticeable in her voice.

"Anyway, I'm just trying to distract myself from the magic that killed those day-walkers," she explained, sitting up a little straighter and meeting his gaze. "Whoever did this, we will deal with them," he assured her. "I'm not worried for myself, Elijah. This attack is directed at you and your siblings, not I. I wasn't around in 1918," she added with a shrug before glancing back at the sketches. "Well, you're around now, therefore you should be concerned for yourself," Elijah told her.

He wasn't sure why she wasn't worried. She knew that an attack like this would affect them all, even those who had not been present the last time. "And why is that? Until recently, my existence as an original was something only few knew about. Even still, few know of our relation to each other," she countered. Elijah felt some frustration rise in him at her stubbornness. "Lorelei, anyone involved with us is now a target, no matter the relation. You could be taken and harmed simply as a way to hurt us."

He watched as she thought this over for a moment, finally nodding in understanding. Then she just examined him. Under her icy gaze, he shifted from one foot to the other in discomfort. She hadn't looked at him in such a way in 500 years. "You look troubled," she finally mumbled, brow crinkled. She had always been able to read him before she left the family. After 500 years, that apparently hadn't changed.

"I have been... occupied," Elijah started, taking another few steps toward the bed. She watched him closely, taking in every little movement and change in his tone. He knew she was reading him like a children's book. He hesitated to continue, freezing where he was, waiting for her to say something. "Tell me," she muttered, gently pushing the drawing from the edge of the bed. Elijah stared for a moment, confused by her actions. She had barely spoken a word since Davina's death, and she had been indifferent towards him all day, until this very moment.

"My siblings are in some quarrel," he started, shifting toward the bed, but stopping near the bed posts and leaning on one. Sitting on the bed with her would be too familiar; too close. "Niklaus remains agitated. My slightest interaction with Hayley seems to... infuriate him," Elijah paused with a huff. "So, as Hayley would say, Klaus is a dick and you want to be a good big brother, so the two of you can't hang out. That sound right to you?" Lorelei asked, hiding her jealousy behind a small smirk.

Elijah let out a small, surprised laugh at her words, eyes flickering down for a moment before meeting hers through thick lashes. "And then there's you," he muttered, catching her attention. She raised an eyebrow at him in surprise. "Me?" He nodded, gaze flickering down as he shifted, smoothing the front of his suit jacket as he sat on the edge of the bed.