little mikaelson ⚜️ the originals

23

"So what's this about you and art I hear?" Freya asked kindly as they all sat at a table, enjoying their breakfast.

Well, some of them, that is.

"Hmm?" She asked through her breakfast that Rebekah had made for her. The same one that she had every morning.

"Rebekah stated that you're a artist last night. Something about carving little trinkets out of wood and some painting?"

Darla's eyes flicked to the woman who raised her, completely forgetting about the fact that she'd been yapping about her all last night, filling them all in on her life during the time she'd been gone.

"Something that she gets from her father, no doubt." Elijah smirked, drinking blood from a crystal glass.

"Am I the only one who seems to remember the fact that they aren't even biological father and daughter? What ever skills she has ― which are no doubt many ― didn't come from Nik, never mind the fact that she wasn't even raised by him." Kol chimed in, taking a swig of what Darla could only presume to be blood from his mug that read 'World's Handsomest Uncle'."They came from natural, god-given talent, and anything more is simply coincidence."

Darla laughed and rolled her eyes, taking a bite out of her toast whilst grumbling under her breath about Rebekah 'never being able to keep her mouth shut'.

"What? Is it so bad that I'd like to inform the world of my little moon's talents?"

At the familiar nickname, Darla's mind flashed back to the night before with her father, and looked around.

"There's a difference between informing and showing off, Bekah, one that you never quite grasped." Darla said absentmindedly, eyebrows furrowed. "Where's dad?"

"Handling some business." Kol shrugged off, waving a hand through the air as if it were nothing. "Which, in a way is a blessing, because this way we can actually talk to you, as opposed to him being the oh-so-appreciated filter."

"But, he did tell us to pass on his apologies for not being there when you woke." Elijah added on sensibly, making Darla nod.

"Now, back to the art!" Freya said excitedly. "I don't know that much about it, but after hearing and watching Nik these past few years, I think I know enough to hold a somewhat intelligent conversation with my niece about such."

"Darla's a self-taught artist, actually," Rebekah chimed in. "I tried to put her through some sort of schooling or a class or two, but she simply refused―"

"You're bragging again." Darla interrupted, rolling her eyes at her aunt's behavior.

If you hadn't already guessed, Rebekah was an absolute hit with the PTA and at parent-teacher conferences. Was the sarcasm heavy enough?

"Why didn't you take lessons?" Elijah asked in wonder, tilting his head at the brunette before him.

Darla shrugged and picked at the fruit that was in the bowl beside her toast, feeling the familiar creeping of a blush rise up her neck.

"I never liked the idea of someone else telling me how art should be made. If someone is telling you how to express yourself, then it really isn't art anymore. It's an assignment."