Hope Mikaelson [1]

[4] dad doesn't trust marcel

FOUR | DAD DOESN'T TRUST MARCEL

     Don't you hate yawning? If you don't, then I have no clue what's wrong with you. In my opinion, yawning is the worst thing ever. It gets my eyes extremely watery, and I've had many occasions where people ask me if I had been crying — but in reality I had just taken a small yawn.

Speaking of yawning, I took a small yawn as I pulled on the last set of my combat boots. Today I decided to go a bit lazy, but yet stylish. So what, it took me twenty minutes to point out an outfit, but I made it. I now sported a white strapped crop top, a black high-waisted skater skirt, a dark grey cardigan, and a pair of black combat boots.

I had taken a shower previous this moment, so that erased my mom. Looking around for my phone, I seemed to have lost it. I had no clue where it was...

Oh well.

Heading downstairs, my steps seem to alert the awaiting family downstairs. "There's the sleepy head," Dad said as I stepped on the final step. I shrugged my shoulders effortlessly and looked at my wrist, "It's only..." I paused, shaking my head to the side before shrugging again, "I don't actually have a watch, so what time is it?"

"It's two in the afternoon, Hope." Mother walked into the room, coming from the kitchen I presume with a bowl in one of her hands, and a cup of what seemed to be orange juice in the other. When she reached me, she handed me the bowl and cup. "Here's your breakfast."

Looking down at the bowl, I noticed all the different fruits. All my favorite...Hm, I guess Remi told her what I liked. The white square bowl had bananas, strawberries, watermelon, and kiwi.

Smiling up at her, "Thank you mom."

"Oh, Hope. One of my long-time friends named Marcel is coming over today." Dad announced from the couch, taking another sip of his bourbon; although the dad did sound extremely familiar, I didn't pay attention to my thoughts. "What does this have to do with me?" I furrowed my eyebrows, taking a seat next to my dad and taking a bite of the watermelon.

Yum, watermelons and mangos where my favorite fruit [an: this is also my favorite fruit] and I couldn't have enough of it. 

"Your father wants you to meet...him," Remi said, and the way she hesitated about saying 'him' made me realize who Marcel was. I sent my aunt wide eyes, and she responded with a grimace and a slight nod so the others wouldn't notice.

Knocking ran through the house, and the way my dad tensed up sent something to me; he didn't trust Marcel. Hm...interesting.

"Klaus, you wanted to meet me?" A man, who I assumed was Marcel, stepped into the room analyzing people head-to-toe. When he got to me however, he sent me a smirk and looked back to my father. Um...gross.

"Ah, yes old friend. Darling, come here." Father glanced behind his shoulder to me, and sent me a look to walk towards him. Not wanted to argue, I complied and walked next to me dad after I set down my breakfast.

Before my dad and I said anything, however, Marcel beat us to it with a question that shocked me. "Is this lunch?" He smirked again, looking at me up and down.

"I'm not lunch," I spat, narrowing my eyes at him. 

"Oh, she speaks. I sure hope her blood is tasty." Dad didn't say anything, but I felt him tense up when Marcel came closer and his eyes started changing. Rolling my eyes, I allowed him to do what he wanted. For now.

He moved my hair back behind my shoulder, and before his fangs reached my throat, I shot out and grabbed his neck and in one swift movement I had him pinned against the wall. Guess this ring really does work."Still not lunch, darling." Matching his former look, I transformed my eyes into the glowing lavender color. From the look in his eyes, I could tell he was scared; terrified even. Ha, he should be.

"Wh—what are you?" He managed to let out, his eyes darting down to my face. 

Sending him a vicious smirk, I let him go and chuckled as I heard him gasp for breath. "She's my daughter." That statement alone sent Marcel into another round of gasps. "Wh—what?" He still hadn't caught his breath, and that brought me joy. 

"I'm his daughter, sweetheart. My names Hope and if you call me lunch again I'll rip your throat out with my teeth." I managed to squeeze in a Derek Hale reference. Oh god I loved that werewolf. Teen Wolf is one of my favorite shows.

He fake saluted me, "Got it." 

I narrowed my eyes at him, grabbed my breakfast, and stormed into the kitchen where Rebekah had walked in when he came inside. "I don't like him." I stated stuffing a strawberry into my mouth.

"Me either, sweetheart."

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

So she finally met Marcel. And to be honest, I don't really like Marcel. If you find any grammar errors, please comment about it :)

Edited On: March 18, 2016.