.

12.11.09

.

"-completely unreasonable!"

Turning to the next page within an old diary (ah, 1823, a rather peaceful year for them, given their family), Elijah lifts his head to watch Niklaus storm across the dining room of the Governor's old house. Niklaus had been the one to throw the Governor's son to his death, if only because he threatened to draw Rebekah's attentions away from their family. As always, his relationships with the rest of their siblings remain, complex. A fact that has led to this very temperament, punishing the dining room floorboards as if such an action will bring about a settlement of peace within his mindset.

A thousand years and still Niklaus is unable to control his turbulent emotions and rampant paranoia.

"Well, it does make a fair amount of sense. While it is true that you can grease the wheels of bureaucracy and allocate Elena the owner of this property in order to remove the ability of all other vampires from stepping inside without due invitation, that does not solve the issue of the witches, along with the werewolves that will come upon learning that you can turn them into hybrids. If they come peacefully, or with the intent of visiting violence upon you, it matters not. What remains is that your current plan only saves Elena from the presence of vampires and leaves her defenceless to any other enemies you collect within these next few weeks." Weeks, days, hours; Niklaus truly does have a talent for instilling hatred into his foes.

"That still does not explain to me why her safety is best entrusted to the Wily Fox."

"Then, brother, you have clearly not been paying attention to the situation." Elijah has. After all, upon learning Kol was undaggered, he had been understandably worried. Without question, his youngest brother has a reputation best fit for marauders and usurpers. What had it been back in Spain? Ah yes, he'd take his chances there, perhaps become mayor of the town. His deplorable behaviour had resulted in his daggering then, along with every other instance afterwards. And yet-

"Oh, face facts, brother. This is by far one of the lesser crimes you've caught me committing."

And yet, his reunion with Kol in this century had involved casual mischief in replacing road-signs within a town, accompanied by a girl clearly used to his company. Since then, Elijah has been… reflecting.

It is true he has spent a good many years of his immortal life attempting to keep Niklaus, if not on the straight and narrow, then from steering off the road to tear through the fields. Ah, an asinine metaphor, but the only adapt one that comes to mind during this time.

Regardless, his focus upon unearthing Niklaus' better qualities has led to a distressing derelict of duty towards his younger siblings, Kol more so than Rebekah. Truly, he had not taken note of the situation until he had been exposed to his brother interacting with another in the know about their family, but also one who spends time with him simply for the innocent mischief they can undertake together.

Kol's wretched behaviour has always been a sore point between the two of them but Elijah is beginning to realise that, for all Niklaus displays similar tendencies, he has never offered a similar consideration to his younger brother. He understands why of course; Niklaus is the bastard among them and Elijah has since strived to ensure his brother has never felt excluded among their number ever since he had uncovered the truth.

Which brings him back to the present.

"It is obvious in the actions and considerations he takes towards Elena that Kol is fond of her. While, in truth, this may partly be a result of her usefulness to your own cause, I do believe not all of it revolves around her role as a key component in your quest to retake New Orleans. In fact, if I were so to guess, it would seem Kol is fond of her simply because Elena Gilbert is a charming young woman willing to offer him the time of day."

"Ah, but you do admit that part of the reason is she's pivotal in my plans," Niklaus snaps, one uncouth finger pointed near directly in Elijah's face.

He gently bats the hand away, refusing to rise to the challenge in Niklaus' eyes.

"For centuries, brother, I have sought to prove your worth as a man, sought to keep this family together as we were hunted across continents by Mikael. Never once did I think to offer Kol the same consideration that you and, to a lesson extent, Rebekah have received. Evidentially, I have failed as an elder brother and for that, I shall strive to make it up to you. All of you."

"Already one day in this city and you turn against me."

"Open your eyes, Niklaus! Where upon this land do I stand? Whose side is it that I remain by! Not a thousand years have passed by where I have truly given up on you; even as I hunted you for the supposed burial of our siblings, not once did I ever consider you beyond saving, chafing as it is to admit such a fact. I side with family and, I believe that deep down, you know this to be true."

Niklaus grits his teeth, twisting on his heels and launching the delightful vase Rebekah had once received as a courting gift into the sitting room. It explodes against the wall, leaving a terrible mark upon the worn walls that will have to be dealt with. In the very least, allowing Niklaus to throw his tantrum here and now would be in everybody's best interests, before the cleaners and painters arrive.

"Even though we scoured the city for a decade, we never did find Kol's apartment; that it is spelled to allow entry to none other than those Kol himself permits ensures it will be a sufficient safehouse for Elena, the prized doppelgänger who is so prevalent in your future plans."

Opening the diary again, Elijah scan the page for any and all mention of Kol. What with it being a single year since daggering him, he'd assumed there would have been some thought put towards his youngest brother. However, he's a mere footnote.

It would appear he owes Kol a tad more consideration than he previously believed.

"If you are truly worried, brother, gain the alliance of a witch and have her spell the house," Elijah continues, flicking to the next page, "but until such an action is taken, I find I agree with the lovely Miss Gilbert. Her safety would be best left with Kol, for the time being."

.

.

"-return of the Originals, it's even more imperative the Harvest goes ahead."

Oh?

Pushing off against the wall, Kol makes his way to the gates of Lafayette Cemetery, hands digging deep into his pockets as he watches the two women approach the entrance. One black, one white, both clearly witches. It takes them a few moments, but they stop when they spot him, leaving about eight feet between them. Eight feet, and the entrance to consecrated ground, of course. From the way their eyes don't leave him, from the way they keep their hands free and open by their sides, they know he's a vampire. If they know he's one the of Originals is a different matter.

"Good morning," Kol chirps, lifting one hand to offer them a little wave, watching the duo watch him. The wind is mild as it ruffles through his hair, unaided by any magical influence. "Lovely day for a little chat with potential allies, isn't it?"

They don't have a clue what to make of him. Ideally, Kol would have been able to make contact with the witches away from the source of their power, away from their cemetery. Ideally, he'd have been able to do it away from the prying eyes of the vampires (creatures loyal to Marcellus? Or has Nik already gotten to them?) but that's not applicable either.

"We do not ally with vampires," the white one snaps, folding her arms across her chest, nose in the air and a face almost similar to Rebekah whenever she spots a fashion disaster on the streets.

"Please, everyone needs allies. And I find witches make excellent allies to Original vampires who actually respect them." At that, they both share a look. Surely, if anything of his reputation has survived into this modern age, it will be his treatment of witches.

"Respect witches?" the black one repeats, adjusting her perfectly coiffed hair, dark eyes lingering on Kol's self-assured form. "I seem to recall a warning being issued towards any deals with Kol Mikaelson after what happened to Mary-Alice and Astrid."

"That was Nik's fault, not mine," Kol snaps, face darkening at the memory. He had liked Mary-Alice, she'd been his favourite witch at the time. Learning of her fate had been a sour-point yesterday, though the irritation at still remaining barred from his little clubhouse holds strong. "Though you'll probably know him as Klaus. And, if you can contact your ancestors, then you'll know it's true." Kol tilts his head to a side, looking up at the witches through his lashes in a move that has resulted in his entanglement in the sympathies of their kind so many times before. "I am the innocent party in this."

"That, I highly doubt," the black woman says, though from the look to her face, she knows exactly what's going to happen now.

"And you have a grudge against Klaus as a result," the other states, taking a step forward. "I am Bastianna Natale and this is Agnes Malchance."

"Ah, a Malchance!" Kol beams, inspecting the other with new eyes. Far from the beauty Astrid was, but he supposes that happens with age. He never got to see his other witch age, what with Nik getting in the way. A shame. "A pleasure. Kol Mikaelson, though I assume you had already guessed that by now? You see, I'm looking for a Claire witch."

.

Whistling, Kol strides down the street, eyes flicking between the message on his phone and the shop signs. So much has changed and, despite a day to familiarise himself with the city, there's still so much ground to cover. The French Quarter remains Marcellus' land for the time being, it would seem. Given that no bodies strew the streets, it would appear Nik has yet to make his move either. Regardless of how he does it, the event promises to be savage and bloody. He hopes his dear brother holds out on that front; it will be so much easier to slide things past his notice if Nik's already on a warpath with someone else. Witches, wolves, vampires, it doesn't matter who. As long as he's occupied, then Kol's happy. And speaking of vampires-

Standing outside Boutique du Vampyre, Rebekah spots him and scoffs, freeing her arms from where they're folded across her chest.

"Finally. I've been waiting twenty minutes for you to turn up."

"Sorry, Bekah. Though I must say, I am curious how I've managed to end up guarding the doppelgänger. I was so sure Nik would never let her out of his sight." It's the utter truth falling from his lips right now. The task is hardly an unpleasant one; if anything, it could make his life far easier than it is currently. But he's still confused and half expecting a trap.

"Your apartment was the key selling point, if I hear Elijah tell it correctly. Not that I'm really bothered. I'm far more interested in returning to the Abattoir and finding out if that little titbit of information Nik shared is true." Ah, yes, she and Marcellus had a little tryst back in the day, didn't they?

"Ah, Bekah. Still a harlot I see. Don't worry, I'll preserve the Mikaelson family dignity for the both of us."

"Please, the only reason you'll manage that is because Elena won't allow you into her pants." She leaves before Kol can get another word in edgeways, leaving him standing outside and aptly named shop with a delightful little doppelgänger for company.

Ducking into the dark shop, Kol's lips tilt up at the vast array of curiosities spread out before him. Clearly, the business is run by a human; there's nothing in here that hints to witchy connections.

"Kol! I got you a pin!" And there she is, skipping over to his side in order to present him with said pin. His eyes flick over the design, a familiar shape he dreads waking in, the text white and bold. 'Fresh outta the coffin'.

"I love it, Darling. Now come along, I've got plans to introduce you to New Orleans' favourite dish. Gumbo."

.

Rousseau's is a little bar, nothing special barring the fact a witch works here, thus making it a hotspot for others to gather without issue. There's a shallow ring above his head as Kol pushes open the door, fingers linked with Elena's as he reels her into the bar.

"Item twenty-three on your list was to try New Orleans gumbo, am I right, Darling?"

"Well, old age certainly hasn't affected your memory," Elena chirps, making her way for one of the bar stools. There's only a few occupants inside the bar, despite it being a weekend. Well, it is winter and mid-day, it's understandable that the tourists won't be out and about right now. Bars are usually frequented at night, are they not? Kol joins Elena at the bar on a stool of his own, feet balanced on the metal rung. Elena's quick to wiggle free of her jacket, laying it across her lap before turning her charming smile on the bartender, a pretty enough woman with a kind smile.

"Hi, could I get a coke, no ice please, and this one'll probably have a bourbon?" She finished the latter part of her sentence as a question, lifting her brows as she stares him in the eye. Kol grins back, resting an elbow on the bar and nodding his consent.

"I'm gonna need to see some ID for that." Ah, yes. Another charm of the modern era; the legal drinking age. He bets Nik doesn't have to deal with these kinds of questions. Bastard'd probably laugh in their faces if they asked.

Turning his eyes on the woman, Kol allows his pupils to dilate, laying the vampiric magic (the only fucking magic he can use) on thick.

"No, you don't."

"We don't welcome your kind here," the woman snaps, eyes narrowed and there's the beginnings of a headache forming in his frontal lobe. Excellent, here's the witch.

"Well, seeing as you know what that was, do you really need ID?" Kol asks, fist pressing into his cheek, leaning on the bar for support. As the witch continues to scowl, Kol continues, "I'm not here for any trouble. Just showing the lady around. I'll be good for my visit, promise."

"He will. If he ruins my first opportunity to get gumbo, I'll be most upset with him," Elena adds in, threading her fingers through his free hand and directing it to the bar top, palm down. "He's a good boy, promise."

"That I very much doubt," the witch mutters, but she pours them their drinks anyway. Before her generosity and good will can disappear, Kol puts an order in for two helpings of gumbo and pays up front, still working his charming smile but this witch is having none of it.

"I thought you were supposed to be good with witches?" Elena teases, smile on her lips and straw balanced between her teeth. The semi-transparent pink bleeds brown as Elena sucks the cola up. She then looks him in the eye and he knows what's coming a second before she does it. She blows into the liquid, bubbles hissing and fizzing and droplets of carbonated liquid leaping free of their glass container. Snatching up a straw of his own from the bar-top dispenser, Kol quickly dips it into Elena's drink and begins sucking up the coke.

"Wha- hey! That's mine!" Her palm (small and cold) presses hard against his nose to drive him back, but Kol snatches up the glass and drags it along with him, laughing at Elena's whimpering cry. Upon swiftly realising the futility of trying to get him off her drink, she settled for trying to drain more of the liquid than he can, cheeks hollowing with the effort. The glass empties at a rate that would probably be alarming if one person were drinking it. Soon enough, their straws are battling in the glass base over the last droplet dregs, the plastic pink and orange knocking against each other as they direct the straws with only their lips. Of course, Kol easily succeeds in securing the last drop of coke, pumping the air victoriously.

"You meanie," Elena whines, jabbing her fingers into the tender flesh between his lower ribs and hipbone wiggling like he didn't desensitise himself to tickling centuries ago.

"Nice try, Trouble, but that doesn't work on me."

"Won't work on me either." She's lying through her teeth, it's blatantly obvious on her face and Kol dearly looks forwards to putting the proclamation to the test at a later date. However, their gumbo has arrived and he is, quite frankly, famished.

.

It's good, not that he doesn't expect it to be. New Orleans gumbo retains its title as one of his top ten meals with ease. Perhaps it's not the greatest match-up for his bourbon, but who cares for the little details? Kol orders a second coke for Elena, which she sips at between mouthfuls of her lunch. And conversation, well, it's pleasant. Elena's more than happy to discuss her interests when he asks after them, but she's also deeply fascinated in what he knows. About the cultures he's experienced, the different stages of history he's lived through.

"-of course, it's a little spotty, given how Klaus likes to deal with anything he considers misbehaviour, hence why I've been working on a way to put him out of commission for a bit. Tit for tat, and all. But that's a far off dream until I can contact a Claire witch."

"Shame. More importantly, is your apartment actually habitable now, or am I going to spend my nights plastering my feet to your shins?"

"You say that as if I will be home every night, Darling. I'm a hot blooded male in the prime of my life!" he finishes dramatically, offering a saucy wink and allowing his fingertips to scamper across Elena's thigh, just below where her folded jacket rests. She swats lazily at his hand but, other than that, doesn't do much else to drive him off.

"Speaking of spending nights out on the town, does this count?"

"You mean, do I have every intention of stealing you for an hour or two every day that includes a 'T' within its name? Yes, I do. We'll call it date night." It's forwards, it's bold, it's worked with so many other women before her and Elena is no different. She smiles, the one that lifts her cheeks and nips at the corners of her eyes.

"Sounds good. I'll plan the next one, though we'll have to agree to rain checks if one of us is busy. And, while we're on the topic, I'm not letting you or Klaus bounce ideas off me for forewarning. I'll only share if one of you's going to end up hurt by it all." She smiles, licking at her thumb and then brushing it against the corner of his lip. A droplet of broth sits on the pad of her thumb when she draws it back and Elena sucks it between her lips. Alright, so he's not the only one with a few seduction techniques hidden up his sleeves.

"I'll change your mind soon enough, Trouble. As for the apartment, I ensured it was all updated yesterday-" by compelled guppies who can't remember eight hours of their life now "-and you just need to pick out a few soft furnishings. Might as well select a duvet you like, seeing as you're going to be spending so much time in my bed."

"You know, any other person would buy another bed if they knew they were having a guest sleep over for a few nights."

"Let's not play pretend, Darling. You and I both know this is not only far more favourable, but would have been the eventual outcome anyway."

"You're very cocksure."

"Interesting word choice there," Kol says with a snicker, accepting the soft punch to the arm Elena gives in return. All in all, this appears to have been a successful trip. One thing crossed off of Elena's list, their relationship has strengthened and he's sown seeds in more than one field.

The only question is, how long until he can begin reaping his rewards?

.

13.12.09

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Kol wakes to the most delicious smell that's ever existed within his apartment. Peeling one eye open, he glances to the bedroom door, already aware that he's the sole occupant of the bed. There's no nearby heartbeat, no external heat source buried beneath the blankets. Just him, alone, with warm calves. It means Little Miss Cold Feet has to be up and about and the source of that smell. The idea of retreating from the comforts of the bed isn't as terrible as it had been before he'd had the twenty-first century's version of heating installed in his flat. Now, it comes on at six o'clock in the morning and remains on throughout the day at various levels. It's blissful; why has it taken the humans so long to come up with this? Still, it does take him a moment to strip himself of the covers (a warm, yellow-grey mix that Elena had picked out yesterday) and get to his feet. The floorboards are warm (underfloor heating; why had they thrown the Roman's grand idea out, only to come back to it centuries later?) as he pads towards the main room.

Behind the little kitchenette, Elena stands, wrapped up in a thick, fleece dressing gown with half her hair pinned back from her face. She's near completely turned away form him, pouring something from a glass jug across a baking tray. The source of the delicious smell? Most probably.

It's easy, passing across the space between them silently, running his fingers down her back to rest at her hips. Though he does have to abort his grip on one in order to save the glass jar when she jumps in shock.

"Good morning, Darling. What is this?" Head on her shoulder, Kol peers down at what is indeed the source of the sweet smell, inspecting the melted chocolate that has been smeared liberally across the surface.

"Good morning, Kol. It's flapjack of the chocolate covered variety."

"Sounds delicious." He sweeps away, taking a seat at the table with the glass jar still in hand. There's plenty of melted chocolate smeared along the insides and he happily sticks his finger in, licking it from his fingertip as Elena stares grumpily after him.

"That melted chocolate was supposed to be mine."

"You have the spoon still," he states, gesturing to the very much covered spoon she'd been using to encourage the chocolate from the jar.

"Dirty thief."

"Guilty."

.

For the next two minutes, once Elena has taken the second chair, they sit there, devouring the chocolate remains with their feet knocking beneath the table. He should have turned the coffeemaker on before sitting down, but he'd been too focused on the delights of melted chocolate to consider it. It's only as he's finished licking the jar clean that Kol admits defeat and gets to his feet, switching the machine on and grabbing a cup from the cupboard. Then, he pauses, tilting his head back to look at the human sitting up to his table.

"Coffee?"

"Please. Milk, two sugars."

The coffeemaker rumbles to life as he makes for the fridge, fetching the milk and jam jar. The ding of the toaster signals Elena too has gotten to her feet, followed by a rumble as she shifts through the bread bin.

"What's on the agenda today then, Mr Mikaelson?" That is the question, isn't it? He has agreed to host Elena (as if such a thing is a hardship) but he very much doubts that extends to babysitting their favourite human throughout the day. He has to hunt down his Clair witch, has to get access to his clubhouse again, along with find out what this Harvest business is. The word tickles at the back of his mind, probably mentioned in passing the last time he'd been in New Orleans but his stay here had been… spotty. Thanks for nothing, Nik. Speaking of-

"Have you checked with my dear brother regarding any plans he has for you?" Kol muses, sprinkling the required sugar into Elena's cup. Part of him had toyed with the idea of throwing salt in instead, but the joy of a little prank could backfire if he's not able to hand her off to Nik for the rest of the day. The last thing he wants to be dealing with is the cute little Doppelgänger getting her own back on him when he's trying to get shit done. Seeing as she can get visions of the future, she could fuck up his plans spectacularly in return. So, sugar it is.

"Haven't bothered to look at my phone since I woke up," Elena confesses, tone sad. Ah, yes. The family they've compelled to believe her dead. Probably a sore spot. Not that it matters in the grand scheme of things; they'll remember she's alive once the nosy neighbours have lost interest in the whole thing. Only a few months to go.

"Maybe you should then. Nik's not best known for his patience." For his temper, apocalyptic anger, and general unpleasantness? Yes. Patience? No.

"Mmmm, will do. After breakfast." Elena smears a great big helping of jam across her lightly done toast, hitting the button for the other two slices to pop up. These too are quickly covered in strawberry preserve, plated, then exchanged with him for a cup of coffee. They retreat to the table again, inhaling the rising steam and munching on toast.

"Not that I don't enjoy your company, Trouble, but-"

"You have plans. I know." Elena smiles, taking another bite of toast and chewing slow.

Well, at least they're on the same page.

.

Luckily enough, Elijah has texted, informing him that he'll be taking Elena out for the day in order to help organise some business and that he'll pick her up on the street below, thus, leaving Kol free to run riot. He doesn't say it in his text, but Kol gets the general gist. Any time Elijah is not monopolising his every waking hour means he's being left to his own devices and his brother fully expects him to be messing with something or other, or out causing general mischief.

He dresses quickly, pulling on the leather jacket he'd acquired yesterday (clothes shopping; the twenty-first century has certainly improved in both comfort and style, that's for sure) before making for the door.

"Oi, you're not leaving without saying goodbye, are you?" Still wrapped up in a dressing gown and with her hair in that ridiculously half-up, half-down style, Elena leans against the hallway wall, arms folded across her chest and a wide grin on her lips.

"Apologies, Darling. I wasn't aware I had to tell you when I was off out to cause mischief, mayhem and partake in some marauding," he drawls sarcastically, eyes rolling as Elena brings her hands to rest on one of his arms. She rises to her tiptoes, lips grazing against the edge of his jaw. Kol spins, catching her wrist and pulling her into a proper kiss. No tongue; he's, heh, a gentleman after all.

Elena pulls back first, lips pressed into a firm frown, like she can squash the extra blood he's summoned up there with his kiss. The light dusting to her flushed cheeks only fuels his smirk.

"Well, next time I won't bother to catch you for a goodbye kiss then."

"Please, a peck to the jawline? I expect those in bed, Trouble, not as a goodbye. Goodbye kisses are the ones that are supposed to mean something." Fluttering little kisses along his jawline usually lead down his neck in a trail that continues down; certainly, something meant for the bed (or up against the wall, on the table, in the shower… he's not picky).

"Maybe after the second date," Elena snorts, rolling her eyes before tapping at his arm with one of the hands still resting on it. "Have a good day, Kol. And be careful. The witches aren't happy here and they're planning something big. Certainly, something big enough that they're cloaking it from others looking in on what they're doing. It's all one big hazy mess for me."

Oh, well that is terribly interesting; no doubt they're trying to cover up their movements from any witch that's on Klaus, Kol or Marcel side.

"Thanks for the tip off; try not to let Nik scramble your brains too much."

.

He makes for the bar from yesterday. It's a good a starting point as any, that's for sure. The witch hadn't been best impressed with him, but she had always served him food and drink and left him well alone. Given the tensions between the New Orleans vampires and the witches, it's intriguing. Oh, he'd certainly dropped enough hints that he's the one they should be siding with. His little mention of a way to permanently put Nik out of commission must have struck their interest, unless they're fools, that is. If any of them have bothered to listen to their ancestors (which, given they practice ancestral magic they damn well should be doing), then they'll know Nik is the one they should be dealing with first.

Pushing open the door, Kol swans in without fear, scanning the bar for the witch. She's not there; not a big surprise, but still disappointing. It's not like he doesn't have the time to waste; he has plenty of that. Still, it's easy to make an order for a drink when the waitress can be compelled.

Relaxing back into a booth, Kol scan the handful of faces inside, stopping on the one sitting at the back. Mary Alice's high-brow, her ringlet; her descendant. And she's looking right at him too. Perfect.

.

.

Elijah greets her on the street, standing beside what she's relatively sure is his car; it looks posh enough, expensive and shiny enough to scream 'I am Elijah Mikaelson's car'.

"Good morning, Elijah!"

Bouncing the short distance between them, Elena halts a mere foot before the elder vampire, hands clasped behind her back and a cute little smile on her face. Elijah sniffs.

"You've been baking."

"Mmm, flapjack. It'll have set by the time I get back; I'll bring some tomorrow."

Elijah hums, peeling a handkerchief from the breast pocket of his suit and offering it to her. Elena tentatively accepts, fingers running across the fine cloth, the initials embroidered into one corner.

"You have some jam in the corner of your lip. Now come along, there is a great deal to be done so it is best we start early."

"Before Klaus wakes up, by any chance?" Elena asks, dabbing at the edges of her lips, right, then left, inspecting the splodge of jam that transfers to the handkerchief. How on earth she'd managed to have spill over when she'd used only a light layering of the strawberry flavoured condiment, Elena has no idea.

Elijah says nothing of the sort, but he does offer her a charming smile, so Elena takes it as an agreement to her question, allowing the vampire to walk her the three or four feet to his car.

"And Rebekah?"

"Rebekah is still coming to terms with the fact Marcellus has survived what we had thought was his own gruesome death. As you may expect, she's not best pleased. I suspect she will be along to see Klaus' wayward son very shortly."

"Huh."

.

The drive is relatively quiet. Despite expectations otherwise, Elijah is not one to listen to classical music within his car. More so, he has little problem with her turning on the radio to listen to the charts and, though his head doesn't bop along to the music like hers, he does tap at the steering wheel to the tunes.

After the near domestic morning alongside Kol, it's a little strange to be right back to normal, tagging along with another Mikaelson brother to get knee deep in scheme or another. She does wonder what they're up to. As far as Elena is aware, there is no pregnant werewolf; Klaus has already been warned about the consequences of unprotected sex with anything that can reproduce. He'd scoffed at her but, as she's not seen visions of bouncing bundles of babies in her future (because fuck yeah, she'd make an awesome babysitter/honorary aunt), she thinks he's taken her warning to heart.

They pull up outside of a cute little Mexican a five-minute drive away, parking in the large car-park that's just across the road. The architecture here is incredibly consistent. If Klaus was being truthful when he regaled her with tales of this city and how he had a hand in a lot of the styles chosen for construction, then their tastes aline more than she previously thought.

"A little early for lunch, isn't it?" Elena asks, car door swinging shut behind her. The sky is near cloudless, the sun bright if not warm. Well, it's warmer than Mystic Falls would have been at this time of year; she only needs a jacket, not a full out coat.

"Perhaps. I do hope you will forgive me, Elena, for infringing on your usual dining schedule."

"Please, if you're paying for a meal out where I can try new foods, there's nothing to forgive." Grinning, Elena fingers the phone in her pocket in what is becoming a somewhat recognisable habit. Is it down to nerves? Or the need to do something with her fingers? Perhaps she should look into something more productive, something like knitting. There's always a need for scarves and socks, isn't there?

.

They're shown to their seat by the window and Elena helps herself to the menu, flicking through the worn laminated pages with genuine interest. There wasn't a Mexican in Mystic Falls (surprise surprise) and every time they'd gone out as a family before, well, before everything doppelgängery had kicked off, they'd always taken a packed-lunch. Jeremy's fault; he'd been resistant to trying new things as a child and then they just, hadn't really gone out much when he'd hit his teenaged years.

Elijah doesn't try to make pleasant conversation while she looks and for that, Elena is thankful. She's trying to wrap her head around the names of the dishes, reading through the basic summary of the meals. It's only been two hours since she ate breakfast but breakfast had just been toast on its own.

"Hey now, if I'd known we could bring pretty company, I'd have had a tag along of my own." Marcel?

Lifting her head up from the menu, Elena considers their new company, watching him take a seat, placing a clearly alcoholic beverage down upon the tabletop. Elijah doesn't look surprised or in fact, displeased by his presence (not that Elena thinks she'll be able to notice the latter, but, hey, maybe?) so it would seem this is a meeting on his list of 'great deal of things to be done today'.

"If I'd known I was being invited to a meeting, I'd have thrown on my clown outfit," Elena fires back, ignoring the look of confusion the vampire throws her in favour of leaning back in her chair, making herself comfortable. "Good morning, Marcellus Gerard. You are looking remarkably hale considering Klaus' temper."

The other smiles, all easy humour and Elena shuffles her chair around the table a bit so she's sitting more beside Elijah than just at the same table as him. If it looks like she's physically taking sides then, that's because she is. Team Mikaelson all the way, even with the infighting.

"It's funny how things work out, isn't it? And while I'd love to get to the bottom of the human running around with the Mikaelsons, I'm afraid it's Elijah I'm here to see, Sweetheart."

"Elena. If you would be kind enough to make my order as well, then you will do me a kindness. Here." Elijah finishes scribbling down something on the notepad that'd been in the centre of the table, offering it to her along with one of his (what she assumes will be many) cards. It's a clear dismissal, though from what, Elena's not sure.

The phantom taste of Kol's blood from the other day sits heavy on her tongue as she makes her way to the bar to order, offering a smile to the waitress who looks to Marcel with shrewd eyes. She's not sure if the girl is a witch or if she's just well informed; either way, Elena has no intention of pulling any more attention to herself.

"Hi there. I'd like to make an order please?"

.

After a truly horrific mangling of the pronunciation of the Mexican food that they will be dining on, Elena makes her way back to the table.

"-the safety of those you consider your own, I implore you to make amends with Niklaus and to stop sauntering about the city as if you have become it's prince!"

"I ain't a prince! I'm the King of New Orleans now! The vampires? They answer to me now. You all left with your tails between your legs. It's me who built all this up from the ground, who got rid of the werewolves, who's backing the witches into a corner! Me! And I'll be damned it I let you take any of that from me!"

Yeah, probably not the best time to swan back over to the table, but swan over Elena does, pressing the lemonade into Elijah's hand as she takes up her chair again. She politely ignores the fact that Marcel is out of his, leaning over the table to stare Elijah in the eye, as if utterly unconcerned that he could be compelled. Chances of him being on some form of vervain are high then.

"I may be pointing out the obvious here, as I'm sure you're both well aware given the amount of time you've spent in his company, but Klaus doesn't like the answer no. Can get rather aggressive when he's met with that response, in fact." Both males turn to look at her, eyes dark and stares heavy in two very different ways. It's at that point another person (most likely a vampire) bursts in and races over to them.

"Marcel! Klaus just bit Thierry."

There's a moment of still silence as everyone takes that in and Elena acknowledges that the world really could not have provided better timing of that announcement. Then, with the cool, calm composure of someone who is very much aware that he holds all the cards here, Elijah reclines back in his chair, lips tilting up into a little smile.

"Yes, rather like that."

Hope everyone is well during these strange times; have a chapter of this. Gonna take a look at S. next and see if I can get any inspiration for that now.

Tsume
xxx