Olympe is quite unique when it comes to what she is. She is powerful, that is for sure. Everybody knows she is a monster disguised as an angel. Especially the Mikaelson's family, and more particularly Klaus.
Used to be called "ETHEREAL"
-Alternativ...
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Olympe was standing alone in a meadow. She could see no trees and not one single soul either. Olympe was utterly alone. The meadow felt familiar, yet she couldn't remember when she went there. Looking around, she touched the wheat tips around her, then squatted by some pretty buttercups before continuing her journey through the golden landscape.
The nature around her was oddly quiet, not completely silent, but lessen. Even more bizarre, she wasn't afraid. No, she felt relatively calm and composed actually, almost at peace.
Where am I? Olympe wondered for a moment before the thought was wiped away with a soft wind blow. She sighed happily, feeling her shoulders relax as the sweet scent of wheat and earth mixed and enveloped her before looking around one more time.
She noticed a silhouette in the distance.
Olympe squinted her eyes, a hand above them, trying to make something out of the dark silhouette, but all she could see was a golden halo around it. And still, she felt no fear.
The silhouette moved forward, toward her, walking fast and briskly, but not aggressively. Under the charm of the meadow, Olympe let it approach, excited to see who (what?) they were. However, the closer the silhouette was, the less calm Olympe felt. Still, it wasn't fear that was bubbling under her skin but disbelief. She recognised the shape now. She remembered the light brown hair on top of the most beautiful face she ever had the chance to see, the deep green like forest orbs, the gold of his skin, the kind smile on his pinkish lips, the bright light in his eyes...
"Marc?" she whispered, tears filling her eyes as she froze, unable to decide whether to run in his arms or run away because how could it be possible? Her husband was walking towards her, smiling brightly. Her very much dead husband.
"How can it be?" Olympe continued, her voice not above a whisper as her feet barely shifted, one of her hands reaching forward but still she couldn't move any more, petrified and astonished.
"You died centuries ago... I burned your body. You were dead. I was there, I saw it..."
However, nothing stopped Marc, not even her words, and he kept walking toward her with his warm smile, getting closer and closer. He only stopped when he was a few steps away from her, within her reach, yet Olympe didn't move to him, too afraid that this, no matter what that was, was an illusion and that at her first movement, he would disappear from her forever. Olympe's eyes were wide, and she was fighting back her tears but to no avail; the moment he stopped walking, she cried, letting her sorrow fill her up once more.
"How can it be?" she repeated softly. This time, her hand went to touch Marc slightly on his arm, but he stayed still, looking at her with a kind, soft look.
"Bonjour, Olympe," he greeted her kindly, his voice warm and suave just like she remembered it to be, in her native language, and a gasp escaped her lips.
