Empath ‣ Klaus Mikaelson [1]

Sixteen

Talia was standing in a bar, wondering how she got there. It didn't take too long before she realized she was in a dream, though as she walked around, no one talked or even acknowledged her existence as they usually did. As she examined the bar closer, she realized it was the Irish bar from Elijah's memories she examined earlier.

Elijah himself was sitting in a corner booth with a fancy-looking drink he was nursing, his eyes darting around the bar in an attempt to keep an eye on everything all the time. After all, he was on the run. He was wearing a dapper suit that looked like one of his everyday ones, only a little more vintage to suit the times.

He stared down at his drink in contemplation before, out of nowhere appeared a blonde woman wearing what looked to be workwear, but fancier. She was wearing a plaid dress with a trenchcoat covering her arms, but that wasn't the most significant thing about her: she looked exactly like Talia. Talia figured out she must be dreaming about the memory she saw.

"Is the seat across from you taken?" the woman asked Elijah, her voice sounding nearly identical to Talia's with only the slight hint of an Irish accent.

The Original she questioned took a sip of his drink before looking into her eyes, quickly spitting out the drink in surprise. The woman he had seen in many paintings was standing in front of him in a bar in Ireland asking to sit with him.

"Is this a bad time?" she asked.

"No, not at all," he responded, still a little shaken up at the surprise. "Please, sit."

She did so, straightening her coat as she did so.

"Who are you?"

"I wish to ask you the same," she retorted, slipping her gloves off.

"You approached me."

"For a good reason." She snatched his drink and took a sip. "I was told to find you."

"By whom?"

"My father."

"How come?"

"I am not sure, but he begged me to look for someone like this." Between her fingers, she held up a black and white photograph of Elijah wearing a suit. "You seem to look like this."

"I must say the resemblance is uncanny."

"Do not play coy with me, sir." She then stuffed the photograph away and lit a cigarette, placing it between her lips. "You spit your drink pretty far when you saw my face. I admit I am gorgeous, but not that gorgeous."

"Can I not admire the beauty of a woman?"

She puffed out a small plume of smoke. "Please. No lies."

"I have seen you in many paintings," he admitted. "Seeing your face was shocking."

"Who's paintings?"

"That is not important right now."

"I disagree."

He popped his fangs out discreetly before retracting them. "It seems you do not know who you are talking to."

"What is your name, vampire?"

"Elijah Mikaelson. What is your name?"

"Natalia." She puffed out more smoke.

"Just Natalia?"

"Just Natalia. Now, Elijah, I must ask you why we are destined to meet here today in a dinky little bar."