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The last three days had been hell.
Tyler Lockwood had taken Lydia from him, and hot on her heels had been Elijah's pet huntress. They'd played hell finding the pair, and Tyler...
Klaus couldn't stand to even think about it. He'd baited Klaus into feeding on him, vervain in his blood...bitten his brother, leaving him to suffer through the fever brought by werewolf venom when Klaus could only add to his suffering with the cure in his bloodstream...
Tyler would be fertilizer for the swamps if not for the fact that he wanted death.
The huntress had stayed with Elijah, weathering out the worst of his fever while Klaus brought Lydia home with assurances that he would live...and trust that the dark little thing who refused to leave his side could defend herself adequately against a delirious Original.
Klaus didn't worry Lydia with incidental details.
He did, however, resume his vigil by her bedside. When she fell asleep that night, long after Elijah and Allison had returned from their temporary bayou exile, Klaus was in her room and in the chair that he'd come to think of as his own. He sketched, he watched her sleep...he sat and contemplated his long and brutal revenge against Tyler for thinking to so much as smudge Lydia's perfectly applied makeup.
And that thought started him watching Lydia all over again.
She favored striking shades in her color palette, sharp contrasts to her pale skin and compliments to her lovely strawberry blonde hair, but she was rather breathtaking thus: stripped of her war paint, the softest blushes in her cheeks all shell pinks and soft rose hues that turned the conquering queen into a fragile flower in repose...
As he sat there, openly staring, leaning forward in his seat with his sketch pad dangling limply in one hand, Klaus found himself wondering if he could sneak his easel into the room without waking her and finish a painting by morning. He wanted it, so suddenly, so voraciously it was physical pain to endure.
It made him think about her in his arms in the sitting room, not long before Tyler abducted Lydia right off his bloody doorstep.
It made him think of summer berries and the soft scent of expensive perfume.
It made him wonder what he would have tasted if Elijah and his pet huntress hadn't walked into that bloody room.
Tyler Lockwood had taken Lydia from him, and hot on her heels had been Elijah's pet huntress. They'd played hell finding the pair, and Tyler...
Klaus couldn't stand to even think about it. He'd baited Klaus into feeding on him, vervain in his blood...bitten his brother, leaving him to suffer through the fever brought by werewolf venom when Klaus could only add to his suffering with the cure in his bloodstream...
Tyler would be fertilizer for the swamps if not for the fact that he wanted death.
The huntress had stayed with Elijah, weathering out the worst of his fever while Klaus brought Lydia home with assurances that he would live...and trust that the dark little thing who refused to leave his side could defend herself adequately against a delirious Original.
Klaus didn't worry Lydia with incidental details.
He did, however, resume his vigil by her bedside. When she fell asleep that night, long after Elijah and Allison had returned from their temporary bayou exile, Klaus was in her room and in the chair that he'd come to think of as his own. He sketched, he watched her sleep...he sat and contemplated his long and brutal revenge against Tyler for thinking to so much as smudge Lydia's perfectly applied makeup.
And that thought started him watching Lydia all over again.
She favored striking shades in her color palette, sharp contrasts to her pale skin and compliments to her lovely strawberry blonde hair, but she was rather breathtaking thus: stripped of her war paint, the softest blushes in her cheeks all shell pinks and soft rose hues that turned the conquering queen into a fragile flower in repose...
As he sat there, openly staring, leaning forward in his seat with his sketch pad dangling limply in one hand, Klaus found himself wondering if he could sneak his easel into the room without waking her and finish a painting by morning. He wanted it, so suddenly, so voraciously it was physical pain to endure.
It made him think about her in his arms in the sitting room, not long before Tyler abducted Lydia right off his bloody doorstep.
It made him think of summer berries and the soft scent of expensive perfume.
It made him wonder what he would have tasted if Elijah and his pet huntress hadn't walked into that bloody room.
