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The harder he tried, the harder it got...Klaus could no longer remember his first birthday after his death.
Sitting outside of a coffee shop, Klaus wore sunglasses against the bothersome glare of day, but also to hide himself from outside scrutiny. The fact that he had to do even that much annoyed him to no end...and when he was annoyed, things got messy. Still, there was no point in lying to himself, that got equally messy.
Klaus needed to think. Privately.
He wanted to hide his thoughts, to turn inward and look through them like so many collected trinkets from centuries past. That bitter, guileless child, an undead infant barely at her first year, celebrating a birthday shortly after her life was at an end. She was bright, bubbly...and utterly merciless. It was amusing, really, that pale and bouncy kitten with razor sharp teeth and a simple, innocent thirst for the hunt, the chase, the kill. That was Caroline Forbes in a nutshell.
And now, through a sea of years, of centuries, Klaus found himself trying to remember his first birthday after his transformation...and he couldn't remember a blasted thing about it. Every time he thought he had it, it slipped through his fingers or something reminded him he was thinking of another day. Not even the bodies, which he prided himself on remembering (when it suited him) stayed with him. He couldn't remember a time when he was ever quite so new and untouched by the grave, the monster within. Then again, he'd never really been untouched, had he? The wolf was in his bones from the first...his siblings never had that problem. All of them were so blissfully human, right from the start. They were pure, untainted...Klaus never had that luxury.
He was born as he would one day die: a monster. A monster who could not remember even the illusion of innocence any longer.
Impatiently, Klaus snapped his fingers at the young girl he'd compelled to join him and made sure she was still deep under before he took her wrist and pressed his lips against it, fangs sinking into her delicate flesh for a drink...cafe or no, he wasn't much for coffee.
He did, however, take care not to feed too much...he had, after all, made a deal to protect the denizens of Mystic Falls from harm. And a little blood loss was no worse than the Red Cross would do to the poor thing...
Sitting outside of a coffee shop, Klaus wore sunglasses against the bothersome glare of day, but also to hide himself from outside scrutiny. The fact that he had to do even that much annoyed him to no end...and when he was annoyed, things got messy. Still, there was no point in lying to himself, that got equally messy.
Klaus needed to think. Privately.
He wanted to hide his thoughts, to turn inward and look through them like so many collected trinkets from centuries past. That bitter, guileless child, an undead infant barely at her first year, celebrating a birthday shortly after her life was at an end. She was bright, bubbly...and utterly merciless. It was amusing, really, that pale and bouncy kitten with razor sharp teeth and a simple, innocent thirst for the hunt, the chase, the kill. That was Caroline Forbes in a nutshell.
And now, through a sea of years, of centuries, Klaus found himself trying to remember his first birthday after his transformation...and he couldn't remember a blasted thing about it. Every time he thought he had it, it slipped through his fingers or something reminded him he was thinking of another day. Not even the bodies, which he prided himself on remembering (when it suited him) stayed with him. He couldn't remember a time when he was ever quite so new and untouched by the grave, the monster within. Then again, he'd never really been untouched, had he? The wolf was in his bones from the first...his siblings never had that problem. All of them were so blissfully human, right from the start. They were pure, untainted...Klaus never had that luxury.
He was born as he would one day die: a monster. A monster who could not remember even the illusion of innocence any longer.
Impatiently, Klaus snapped his fingers at the young girl he'd compelled to join him and made sure she was still deep under before he took her wrist and pressed his lips against it, fangs sinking into her delicate flesh for a drink...cafe or no, he wasn't much for coffee.
He did, however, take care not to feed too much...he had, after all, made a deal to protect the denizens of Mystic Falls from harm. And a little blood loss was no worse than the Red Cross would do to the poor thing...
