White Blood | Klaus Mikaelson

Chapter Two

   "Eleanor," Klaus softly said, stepping by his brother. "In the moment, you are in transition into becoming a vampire. To complete it, you must feed on blood. If you do not, you will die. Now, I did make a deal with your mother about how I was going to save you from this harsh life, so if I have to, I will use force."

   Eleanor took a step back at the sudden anger that came from the blonde. He sounded forceful, yet he sounded amused. How could this man sound so harsh yet so lovely? She wondered how could she like that of her murderer, of her saviour. It was then that she realised that she would no longer have to have a life filled with begging and crying. No longer would she have to beg in the streets for gold coins, no longer would she have to sew dresses that the orphanage sold to make more money, and no longer would she have to be cold at night or have a coffin-like bed. She would no longer have to be hungry, have to be treated like a disgusting thing because she was an orphan. Then, she came to realise, that her future was filled with numerous possibilities, including travelling to a much better place than Hastings. Maybe London or Paris. 

   "I'm thirsty," she repeated, looking at Klaus. 

   He smirked and nodded, taking her hand and leading her to another room. The house was large, the walls decorated with colourful paintings of landscapes and cities.There were vases filled with flowers she didn't know the name of. She thought this was how a home was supposed to look like, warm and inviting and filled with colours.

   She stopped in front of a green coloured door, and slowly walked in. There was a single large bed in the middle of the room, but there was so much colour around it. Paintings filled with every colour Eleanor could imagine. There were colours that she couldn't even name; reds, blues, yellows, greens, browns. She had never seen so many colours in one single room, in one single painting.

   "You were supposed to come with me," a soft voice said from behind her. She turned to see Klaus with his arms crossed and an amused smile on his lips.

   "I'm sorry," she apologised, turning back to the painting. "I just..."

   "You were curious," Klaus finished for her. "You shouldn't be so curious, Eleanor. Like the saying goes, curiosity killed the cat."

   "But, satisfaction brought it back," Eleanor finished for him. "The saying is: curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back."

   Klaus smiled. "And here I thought that the orphanage didn't teach proverbs."

   "They don't," she responded, "I used to hear the townsfolk say them." It surprised her that she so openly spoke to him. Normally, she would coward and apologise and follow, but she was speaking to him as if he were a friend.

   "Well," Klaus breathed, turning back to the paintings. "Do you like them?" She responded with a nod, and he smiled. "I painted those. Sorry, I'm bragging."

   "Colourful," she softly said, taking a step closer to the painting. Colourful was the highest praise she could give. Since her birth, since she was left at the orphanage, her life was filled with only a handful of colours. The currant coloured uniform, the grey walls, the yellow pages of the books, the black habit the nuns wore, and the tasteless—and colourless—foods she was given for breakfast, dinner, and lunch. There were so little colours in her life that it surprised her to see many of them in one painting.

   Klaus nodded at her, confused. He didn't know whether she was being sarcastic or she simply didn't like his painting. With a sigh, he made her follow him out the room. This time, he made sure she was following him. And she was, Eleanor decided that it would be better to follow him than to stay behind. It was a new house, new feelings, and she did not want to get lost in both.