G R A C E L E S S

The Ballerina with the Pretty Feet

"Isobel Charles," the dark haired woman shook his chubby hand, "the pleasure is all mine."

Light flickered down into the grand dance studio through the old windows, giving the studio a bright and vibrant feel.

The soft padding of feet could be heard as the dancers practiced to the soft melody of whatever Lucille had seemed to play that day.

"We are all very excited to have your company perform in New Orleans," his wife's face lit up like a Christmas tree.

"I've loved the French Ballet ever since I was a little girl."

It was nice to see people so enthusiastic about ballet. Less and less people cared for it, she found.

"Yes," her husband continued, "the Russian Ballet is so overrated. We prefer the original Ballet Company."

Isabeau's eyes flitted to the young girl being instructed in front of the studio mirror.

She looked like a little dancing angel in the bright light of the studio.

"Your daughter has natural talent. We will make sure to utilize it to her advantage." A sly smile formed on her full lips.

"I shall take the girl in as my own protege."

Lucille looked at the older vampire with wide eyes. "But you haven't taken a protege since–"

"–I'm aware." Isabeau gave her a flat look that told her not to say another word.

The younger immortal motioned over for the young girl to join them. She couldn't have been older that fourteen, but there was a true spark there that they hadn't seen in decades. This young girl had the potential to become one of the greatest ballerinas in history.

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The sun was setting in New Orleans, creating a warm ambience all across its veins. Isabeau walked all the way from the studio until she stood at the gates of the Abattoir. Current residence of her old acquaintances.

Even after all these years she still had to deal with the Mikaelsons. How hard could it be for them to remember to leave her ballerinas alone?

"Who is it?" The intercom blared at her.

"Isobel Charles. I have business with the Mikaelsons." She drawled out in her French accent. She knew that they would instantly recognize her if she laid on the accent thick enough.

The gate opened after she heard some audible shouting at the guard. Apparently, no one had let the hybrid know that she was on the exclusive  list of entry.

She hissed at him when she passed; her vampire face making him nearly piss himself.
The resting bitch face she had had, carried over to her immortal life one hundred fold.

"Isabeau, my my my. What's it been? Thirty years?" Klaus descended from the stairwell, eyeing the curvaceous woman.

He watched as the last light of day trickled down her long locks. She truly was a rare beauty.

"Twenty-four." She said flatly before smirking. "There are rumors Nik, congratulations on your newly minted fatherhood."

She tossed the mini liquor bottle at his face for him to catch.

"You carry little bottles of alcohol around?"

"I work with sweaty, hot-blooded bodies all day. Of course I do." She answered dryly.

"Cheers, love." He said with a smirk before downing the small bottle of vodka.

"Aaaaah, I see you've brought Lucille with you." A drawled upon spotting the other brunette.

"Still of limits as the day you were made aware of her existence eight-hundred years ago." Every muscle in her body tensed in anticipation of a fight.

"No need to stress, love." He chuckled.
"I wouldn't dream of it."

Isabeau sighed softly with relief before straightening her spine out again.

"I'm here to remind you not to touch my ballerinas, Niklaus. You and your family."

He nodded with a slow smirk. "Don't worry you're pretty little head–"

"Niklaus, I must insist that you– Isabeau?" Elijah Mikaelson hadn't seen her in nine-hundred years. It felt like his heart was trapped in his throat. Surely his nightmares had turned into daydreams.

"I must be going, Niklaus. You'll remember your promise, won't you?" She called over her shoulder on her way out.

"How long have you known?" Elijah asked as his eyes pricked with unshed tears.

"This entire time." He answered coldly before taking his leave of the now cold hallway.