𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 ━━ elijah mikaelson (1)

𝖎. Self-Made Tragedies

         "There's no serious future with him," she told her sister, sipping at her drink, "He's just a traveler. Look at him, Ophelia."

         Ophelia rolled her eyes, "I never said it had to be serious. You can just dance the night away with him. Have some fun for once."

         "I'm already promised to Nathan, it's not going to happen," Marisol waved off the thought. She was sure that the merchant would regale her with tales of his travels but she had no interest in the them. Traveling had never been an interest of hers. "But obviously you're interested, so have your wondrous night with him."

         Ophelia looked away and Marisol frowned. Ophelia was the energetic one out of the siblings, always looking for the spice of an adventure. She was the one who tried to convince the others to see the wolves shift during a full moon, though she was soon talked out of it since it was too dangerous. Her looking away, not jumping up at the offer, was different and Marisol was concerned.

         "Are you alright?" she asked of her sister, who just nodded her head.

         "Fine," Ophelia smiled, though it was much more forced than normal, "I just don't feel like dancing tonight, Marisol."

         She continued to look suspiciously at her sister, but Ophelia huffed. "Stop looking at me like that, I said that I'm fine. Now go find Nathan if you're not up for an adventure with the merchant."

         Marisol was taken aback. It was usually Circe who snapped back at her, never Ophelia. She wanted to ask more questions, to help her with her problems, but it was clear to her that Ophelia was not interested in seeking a word with her. "Fine, if that's what you want," Marisol said before walking away.

         She saw Nathan talking to Gregory and another woman and stopped. The way he was looking at the woman was obviously more flirtatious than friendly and she frowned. Marisol knew nothing was official between them, she was not yet promised to be his wife, but he had to be aware that it was closing in and yet he was flirting with another woman. He was not her claim but he was as good as it, and she felt an anger burn inside her. The whispers in her head practically screamed for her to mutter an incantation now and set him ablaze, though her self-control burned through in the end. She could not create such a seen as that – not here.

         Though, if he was alright with flirting with another woman when they would be promised to each other before the end of the night if she was correct about her mother's meeting with Jeremiah, she should be fine to dance with the merchant. It wasn't like he was staying in town, nothing could truly happen between them.

         Just a night of fun, an adventure under the candles, for one night. She could afford that. The merchant was still where he was before when she approached him. "Passing through for the night or staying for a while?" she asked before any introductions.

         He immediately smiled at her, "Well, if I can see you tomorrow, I will definitely have to postpone my plans."

         Marisol blushed at the compliment, "Charming man."

         "Beautiful woman," he said back to her, "And does this beautiful woman have a name?"

         "Marisol," she told him, "Marisol Bigora."

         "Beautiful name, fitting for your appearance," he said, "And will you not inquire for my own?"

         She shook her head, "You'll be gone tomorrow, I have no need to know your name. It has no value around here."

         "Blunt woman," he said, surprised and taken back by how upfront she was.

         "I see no reason for politeness in this issue," she told him, "Would you like to dance with me?"