very well — he'll make a small appareance.
but the influx of simple minded hunters is quite bothersome. he would hate to ruin his good suits with viscera.
it continues to baffle him that he is the son of abel.
the mikaelson's and the first humans are now. . . family, of sorts. quite fascinating.
no, no. he is more than welcome to join him.
but he's not a mikaelson. his father doesn't have a surname; you know, the whole. . . fourth person to exist kind of thing. and he's not taking his mother's surname, either.
hm. suppose he'll leave him to it, then.
and pray tell, why is his nephew simply waltzing in like he owns the place.
would have expected it from the adjacent family, but not him. manners, Camael.
his gaze was glued to her. a certain soft tone expression washes over the original — yet with a hint of melancholy.
" no. " his answer was short. simple. were it anyone but her, he'd have a different answer. but he would not admit to that.
Something about Elijah calling her by her name never fails to make her shiver. It feels like a double-edged knife being drawn into her stone cold heart, splitting it in two. A bittersweet emotion.
"Do you wish to be?" Her approaching steps are slow yet each one laced with {...}
'' it is always important to stick with your family, no matter what. I'm sure what ever troubles you and yours, will be resolved eventually. ''
slowly, he rose from his seat; making his way over to the table — which displayed many varieties of alcoholic beverages.