empty bottles: k.m.(under construction)

long way from home - prologue

Everyone wants to tell you what to do and what's good for you. They don't want you to find your own answers, they want you to believe theirs. 

The woman never agreed with this quote more. Since she turned, she had always made her own decisions. A strong believer in creating your own path and paving your own way. She also believed that her choices had brought her to this very moment, in New Orleans.

The hybrid sat on cold concrete stairs enjoying the warm afternoon she'd been gifted with. Tapping her foot lightly against the ground, she took a deep breath and cracked her knuckles - the street's ambience giving her peace of mind. Her head leaned back as she embraced the sun, it shone down on her with a smile and she sighed deeply.

Of course this wasn't to exclude the trumpet mastery echoing throughout the compound, its artist being none other than Thierry Vanchure. The vampire sat opposite her - a few steps up - entranced in a world of his own, not even allowing the jazz band just outside to distract him. A frown of concentration etched onto his brow, but he was clearly having fun. The baker boy cap he wore nearly hid his features.

"Play it again, T!" She exclaimed to tease her friend, a toothy grin shone up at him as he flipped her the middle finger and a grin just as wide. He carried on playing as Marcel Gerard stormed briskly through the gates, clearly bothered - and it was quickly noticed.

Stopping him in his tracks, and going entirely unnoticed by any other vampire that roamed the floor, the brunette vamped over to Marcel and grabbed his arms.

"Now is not the time, Astrid"

"If you don't tell me- "

"What will you do?" Marcel stepped to her, clearly about to burst at the seams over what had just occurred and Thierry stopped his music entirely to look down at the two, eyes wide and curious. Astrid, on the other hand, did not look impressed. Though if you asked Thierry's version of events he'd tell you Marcel looked more like a child being scolded then a two hundred year old vampire about to throw a table.

"Are you sure you want that question answered?" Astrid replied quietly, her arms crossed over her chest. It smelt like a dare, though Marcel knew better. The man's gaze dropped from hers as his nose twitched in annoyance, though it seemed to not be Astrid that was the Original that faced his ire.

"I need your word you won't go running out of here-" Marcel mumbled, almost to make sure Thierry didn't hear. Mr. Vanchure stood from his step only for Astrid to put a hand out in his direction as if to tell him to wait.

Long live the Queen indeed.

"You have it. Now speak."

Astrid was not one for half truths, she never had been. Anyone who encountered the Original Hybrid in her millennia of existence would tell you that, speak your piece and speak in plainly and Klaus's wife might just grant you your life.

"Klaus is here."

Marcel knew what it might do to his mother to hear his father had sauntered back into town. In truth, he did not entirely blame her. Anyone would feel smacked in the mouth at the idea that the man who abandoned them had casually sauntered back home as if he didn't fear for his life.

Marcel almost saw the life drain from her eyes.

"Do you know why?" Astrid asked quietly after a moment of bone chilling silence.

"He's looking for Jane Anne."

"Jane fucking Anne? Marcel-" Astrid had to cut herself off. Why the hell was Niklaus looking for her? Her blood ran cold though before she could speak again, Marcel took off into the Compound leaving Astrid dumbstruck in the middle of the Compound floor.

"Marcel!" She barked only for him to ignore her and she scowled, only to follow her son back into their family home.