The dim sound of street jazz played in the background, saxophones drowned out the other sounds of trumpets and clarinets in such a genius harmony.
It faded as they walked further, one tune being replaced by another tune with a fresh audience and fresh musicians as soon as they turned the next corner.
And again, it faded, but it wasn't replaced this time. Willow was forced to try and listen to the faint notes played streets away. What could she say? Jazz brought a little life to the city, after all, she did see it for what it really was. Not the party capital of Louisiana, not this magical and mystical place. It was a graveyard, a life sentence, somewhere full of death, deception, punishments and torture. The lights only served as a distraction from the truth.
But the jazz spoke to her, reminding her off the times where she'd sit alone in Tristan's manor, everything would be quiet. But in the distance, ever so slightly she could hear a few different songs, and she'd shut her eyes and imagine a different world. She'd wish for the days she could dance along the streets.
But dancing wouldn't be the most respectful thing to do, just because Elijah pulled her to a stop right in front of a humungous wall filled with pictures, candles, teddy bears and flowers.
Willow didn't say a word. She let go of Elijah's hand, running her fingers on his as she walked forward to look closer. She began at the far end of the wall, stepping carefully over candles as she made her away across, looking at every photo of smiling faces, unknowing expressions, people laughing, people with friends, people who had died.
She didn't realised that until Willow had to back track after realising she knew the man in one of the photos. He stood with his arms around what looked to be his wife and two small children. This was the man, this was the man that accepted her before everything kicked off.
"These all died in the bayou" she realised, breathing her words, silently feeling responsible for what happened. Her fingers touched the photo of the man as she felt the pain for his family.
"Gang war" a firm but kind voice corrected her, Willow looked down to see a small man kneeling, mourning someone he had lost "it was a gang war in the bayou"
Of course. Willow smiled sweetly and nodded her head, what other excuse could they have had? Oh yeah, there's a lot of bodies here, tortured and maimed, burnt alive, definitely vampires attacking werewolves that would go down a treat with the press.
"One of the worst in our time" he added, checking behind him to see a few uninvited ears trying to spy on their conversations. Humans, obviously. Press, mostly. Some were convinced that there was a deeper meaning to all of these deaths.
"Yes" Willow agreed "I lost the man who raised me from a child, Christopher, he was innocent, he was only trying to protect me"
"I lost my brother..." the man looked up as he heard the mention of a familiar vampire name. "Wait, you're ..." he stopped himself as he realised who he was speaking with, but people were listening in once again and he had to stop himself.
Willow knew what he was trying to get at, and she smiled and nodded. "You seem scared?" She whispered quietly, seeing the man shudder.
"No offence but on top of your pretty powerful blood that can kill my entire family with one drop..." he turned to see if anyone was listening, but the others had seemed to lose interest "... you're practically Mikaelson royalty, if anyone even looks at you the wrong way, Elijah will string them by their feet and let them bleed out"
Willow looked back and saw Elijah standing proudly, she scowled at him for listening into her conversation, but if she was gifted the same abilities, she'd do the same.
"You shouldn't worry" she told the wolf "I'm on your side, we're on your side" she emphasised, telling him that the vampires wouldn't turn on them. "No matter what threats they make. I'm nobody to be afraid of"
She felt quite bad for the poor guy, she wasn't harmful whatsoever. She had a small flame inside of her, but she would never aim it towards someone who is innocent. But recently this fire had begun to grow, with every day passing, every day Tristan De Martel breathes the same air as her. She wanted revenge, she wanted to avenge the people who died because of him. Her parents, her carers and Christopher.
She gave a small nod as a silent goodbye "stay safe" she whispered as she passed, looking towards the middle at the extra large, iron plaque screwed in to the wall.
I'm loving memory of Christopher
Dod: 8.12.16
Loving friend, brother, saviour
It had a framed photo of him beneath the embossed letters, he was smiling.
"Did you do this?" She asked, not even looking back but knowing Elijah had walked up behind her.
"Well, it was my idea, Rebekah handled the rest" Elijah shrugged, quite pleased with how it all had turned out.
"It's gorgeous" she said "its how he would always want to be remembered, larger than life and overshadowing a bunch of wolves" she laughed
And as she watched the unknowing eyes of her deceased friend, the fire in Willow's belly grew, burning down all of the fear, all of the sorrow and replacing it with pure and unchained anger.
She was no longer scared, she had allowed New Orleans to mould her into the person she would never thought she'd be. Someone brave, someone vengeful.
Not About Angels - Birdy
YOU ARE READING
Willow ↠ Elijah Mikaelson
Fanfiction"And to give you the life you've always wanted, Willow, I'm going to have to let you go" Willow Matthews was a bright spark, she was well known and well looked after. That was until, she went missing. The Mikaelson's were in the midst of a battle w...
