( OPEN ) the devil takes care of his own

[poppycock]

Who: klaus, you! + a few closed starters
Where: mansion + grounds
When: july fifth
Rating: will warn if necessary!
Summary: klaus is in wonderhell and he's not super happy about it
The Story:

mansion + grounds.

[ klaus has settled, inasmuch as he intends to here. if nothing else, wonderland has been surprisingly accommodating. he has a room quite fitted to his taste, one of those handy and interesting closets for anything else he might need (save a few particular objects, as he's been told and proved for himself), and all the booze one could possibly hope for.

he believes it's time to find out more about his new prison. klaus stops only shortly in front of the mirrors in the hallways, wondering about their dangers. the library holds some significant attention of his, since it is the wonderland's supposed trove of information. it's certainly a curious place and one that astonishes even him in its breadth. though he does not linger to read, he does pull a few of his favorites (the art of war, hamlet...) and a few oddities off the shelf to browse. hamlet in particular seems to strike a chord in him; he tempers the grief on his face before putting it back.

later, he'll stop in one of those quaint tea rooms for lunch. a perfect opportunity to sit back, watch the residents come and go, and learn something about them from afar. of course, he's brought the hefty tome history of the peloponnesian war for a cover for his creeping some light reading.

the vendors also hold a particular interest to him. while he browses, he does not dare buy. not even when his eyes catch sight of a wooden horse, a small trinket about the size of his palm. it sits quite harmlessly at one of the tables and klaus stares at it with rounded eyes, still and stricken for a long moment.

eventually, he ends up at the bar because he could certainly use a drink after his day of exploration. he'll sit on a stool and order a whisky - only the best. ]

feel free to begin a starter literally anywhere in the mansion or on the grounds if none of these work for you and you still wanna tag! klaus will see it all. he will literally be in the boiler room to check it out. i cannot stress his paranoia-induced thoroughness enough. feel free to pm this journal or send me a plurk @ provenance if you have a question or are unsure about anything!

Comments

( CLOSED ) for camille. backdated 7/4.

[poppycock]

[ he finds her room in little time and with less difficulty than he would have thanks to freya's directions, but still not quite quick enough. nothing is, smelling her scent at her door, the mixed fragrance of her skin and hair and perfume; the life of her lingering in the air is nearly enough to drive him mad and buckle his knees. perhaps he didn't believe it could be true until his hands are on the doorframe she walks through daily, the presence of her potent and real. he leans on it, taking her in.

she's not there. he knows she isn't; the intimate space of her room exists but is empty, devoid of her telltale, steady heartbeat, her breath. it's his only imperative in that moment, drowning his senses in her, to find her. he breathes, breaths of uncoiling, torturous anguish. he needs only to follow her steps and so he does in a flash. she leads him upstairs, only a few flights, his heart beating madly in his chest. he knows perhaps he should temper himself but he does not, pushing the door in and walking without pause into what is clearly is a bar without true acknowledgment: all he knows is her. all he sees is her, his eyes seeking and finding her, his feet stopped and eyes rounded with an awe and longing and terror that drinks her in. ]

[therapize]

[Though she busies herself with preparations of the evening's celebration, as Cami goes through practiced motions her thoughts wander towards home. It happens often, particularly around holidays, celebrations, days that inspire would inspire a party of some sort in New Orleans--which, if she's honest, are most of them. July Fourth stands as no exception, fireworks and freedom inspiring raucous delight in the city streets. She'd be just as busy if this were Rousseau's, working for her livelihood rather than to fill the void of time in an ageless world.

But home hasn't been so far away these days: more than one person has shown up from the version of earth Cami knows. Likewise, more than one person from her past in Wonderland, and it leaves her nostalgic and foolishly wondering which familiar face might show up next--even hoping in some cases, as selfish a thought is that is.

Still. Still, she's never quite let herself believe that she'll see them again: the closest of her friends, her family. Even Freya's arrival hasn't quite been enough to unlock that door, regardless of the fact that she is too a Mikaelson.

So she thinks of home, of family, of the people she loves, and pins red, white, and blue banners along the walls. The latest one securely in place, she steps down from the chair she's using as a ladder just as someone walks in, a little early for the official celebration, but Cami certainly doesn't mind.]

Hey there; what can I-- [The words freeze, as does Cami herself once she's turned around. She hasn't let herself hope, and somehow he's found her anyway. For a moment she forgets where she is, how to think, how to breathe, until the air rushes out of her in a single, desperate word, a plea that this isn't some sort of new trick played by the prison they stand in.]

Klaus?

[poppycock]

[ he didn't believe he would ever find her again, save in the recesses of his grief and longing. the memory of her, of her compassion and spirit and strength, would only ever be entombed in his heart, a soft and tender ache that would both anguish and comfort him for the march of his life. he would never again look at her and know the beauty of her presence. never again hear the sweet timbre of her voice nor know the sound of it as she speaks his name.

not like that.

but he is here: looking at her, knowing her, finding her, out of the time they both have left. something inside him twists with remorse and the bittersweet terror of his happiness. he staves off the moisture of his tears and pulls in a shallow breath. lets himself nearly smile, if only for her sake. ] Camille.

[therapize]

[Whereas his joy is tainted by a future Cami has yet to endure, hers is pure, her smile bright and unrestrained upon hearing her dated full name. No one in Wonderland insists on calling her that the way Klaus always has; certainly no one has made her feel the happiness that pushes her forward now, the way Klaus does. She closes the distance between them with quick steps, containing herself enough to keep from throwing herself in her arms—but that doesn't mean she's sparing him the hug.

There are reasons to dread Klaus' renewed presence here, both for his sake and the sake of others. For now, however, Cami wants to savor the simple gladness she feels at seeing him, to have this moment untainted by the world they're in.]

It's really good to see you. [Words that might not make any sense to him, given how long he's been around, what he's been told. Is there some poor resident of Wonderland left confused in the wake of his compulsion, interrogated for what they might know? Possibly.

Probably, if she's being honest with herself.

Promising to figure out who later, Cami grants herself a moment more to just feel his presence in her arms, the certainty and strength he represents for her. For so many Klaus Mikaelson represents the worst brand of evil, cruelty beyond measure, and certainly he is capable of that. But for Cami, there is safety in his presence. There is trust.

There is a quickening of her heart, the faintest sound of her swallow as she turns towards those heavy details she hasn't wanted to think about, but that are still less dangerous than other thoughts.]

When did you get here? Has anyone told you about this place yet?

[poppycock]

[ he doesn't know anyone else who might look at him like that, who might so easily and eagerly take joy from a moment with him. who might embrace him. it's foreign to him; it's miraculous. she is: alive and living, smiling as if everything is all right, as if there is none of the darkness here that he knows will enter her life, and from his, and soon.

there isn't that darkness. no matter what ordeals this place has wrought, who he sees is camille is she has been. camille with a human life of her choosing stretched out before her. it feels like a dream as she steps into him, entwines her arms around him. but he knows nothing is a dream. she is not safe. not here, not home, and yet when he raises his arms to encircle her waist, it's with the wonder and fierceness and desperation of knowing she is here, right now. of knowing with a terrible certainty he must protect her. his jaw tightens with it and against his tears. he's glad for it, that reprieve of her earnest gaze; his stays round and full, his breath shaky as he moves his hands up the slender slope of her back to hold her close. every inch of her he touches is a miracle he clings to, his fingertips against the softness of her shirt, feeling the warmth of her skin, the tickle of her hair against his cheek.

he holds her as if he's only just remembering how.

inside he is trembling, not still and silent and solid as he is against her. his thoughts are a riot of disbelief and awe, a plague of troubles not yet fully coalesced (for her, for them, for her here -) but nothing else seems to matter but the sound of her voice and breath in his ear, the warm press of her body against his. he hears her heartbeat quicken and nearly shakes at the sudden loudness and presence of it; it's what he lost and the terror of it nearly tears him in two as she pulls back.

he cannot hide it: the ghost in his eyes, the reverence. but her words reminds him he must, his hands lingering at her arms. he swallows thickly, looks down to shake himself. ] An hour ago, at most. I've seen Freya.

( CLOSED ) for elena

[poppycock]

[ she's relatively easy to find. even not knowing his way around this new and exciting place, he can guess the haunts where elena gilbert might be drawn to frequent; there is the added benefit of her scent being easily found the closer he gets to those peaceful corners, coffee dispensaries, and books.

it's no surprise he finds her getting her refreshment of choice at one of the tea rooms. he notes the floor; considers it might be where she stays. it won't be too difficult to find out, later. she's certainly human, frailer and younger than he remembers her, much to his weighed contemplations. he wonders: what is the last she remembers of him and how might it aide or hinder him here?

(not that it matters truly. he knew where the true source of trouble from his past might coalesce the moment he realized who she was here with: bonnie and damon.)

klaus follows her discreetly from a distance half the morning. that is until she ducks into the library. there are people there: not many and not close, but there. he means to startle her; he considers it would do some good: creating noise behind her to that when she turns to see nothing, she might be relaxed turning forward again.

he sits across from her, sprawled out on the chair, expression perfectly friendly. ] Hello, Elena.

[interpersonal]

[ you'd think elena gilbert would be bulletproof by now. after all, klaus mikaelson has gifted her with most of the armor that covers her now. hardened though she may be by her experiences, two words from him and something inside of her crumbles like a house of cards.

fear swells in her chest, followed shortly after by revulsion. she puts aside all the things she needs to. she's a writer, you know, they chop and move things around until the story suits their needs. but now he stands before her and all she can smell is jenna's fear. all she can see is fire.

stronger than her desire to flee is her desire to stand her ground. she cowers for no one. he knows she fears him regardless. that is, in itself, a victory.

isn't it? ]

Took Wonderland long enough. [ her voice is steady, yet nowhere near as indifferent as she would like. ]

[poppycock]

[ it's what he expected, her reaction: the paralyzing fear at the sight of him, the disgust and resultant grief mixing into one terrible elixir, and finally that hardened steel forged from all of that. if he weren't so amused by it, perhaps he would admire her stalwart dedication to deliberating and presenting her fortitude: then again, his is better.

he watches all this with a calm smile, an observant gaze, perfectly at his leisure. when she speaks, he's not surprised at the practiced indifference, nor how he sees right through it. klaus' smile widens with his pleasure at her brave face and cutting words, the indents of his dimples deepening as he looks down and to the side for a glance. ] It's wonderful to see a familiar face as well. I've been given to understand you've been here quite awhile.

[interpersonal]

[ elena bites her tongue so hard she nearly draws blood. casts a glance in the direction of those who mill about in the library.

they're a precious few. they're enough. his message is received, loud and clear. ]

Six months. [ her throat pinches at the realization. she has been here for six months, in spite of her dogged claims a way home would be found sooner rather than later. elena likes to think she has more control than she does. this remains unchanged, and so does her penchant for strategizing: she thinks of the closest exit. she thinks of possible outcomes, devastating consequences, and the foolishness of provoking him without purpose. she is no purposeless fool. ]

What else did Freya mention? [ she has to be the one klaus is alluding to, right? ]

the promised boiler room

[reverseengineer]

[He's not the only one who's doing a very thorough exploration of the mansion. Pidge has already reached the boiler room and is perched on top of the boiler, armor protecting her from getting burned as she examines it furiously. She hasn't started trying to take it apart, but there is a box of tools and a laptop on the ground. It's only a matter of time.

When she sees Klaus, she sits up, startled.]

What are you doing in here?

yessss

[poppycock]

[ when klaus decided to take a tour of the mansion, he certainly meant a thorough one. he's quite interested in the nooks and crannies of this place, from the full and seemingly useless attic to the small room containing naught but the mansion's boiler.

he senses a potential presence before he enters the room, the slight movement beneath the hum of machinery and the recent scent of another being. still, his brows lift in slight interest at what appears to be a young boy surrounded by the tools of his trade.

klaus pauses in the doorway, hands clasped behind his back, his expression not unfriendly. ]

A more fitting question would be to ask what you are doing, considering you have the tools to dismantle the supposed source of our heat and energy, and I do not.

[reverseengineer]

Key word supposed. This place is magical. Why does it need a boiler? Is it a magic boiler? [She adjusts her glasses, frowning at him.] I want to know how it works.

[She shrugs, sliding off the boiler for now. She's not gonna take it apart with someone else in the room anyway.]

Besides, I'd put it back together.

[poppycock]

[ klaus merely smiles at the astute correction; kudos to this child's intelligence. (though not to her ability to recognize deflection.) he certainly agrees: he doubts very much wonderland would have a regular boiler and if it is he doubts it would power much here.

klaus takes an ambling step inside to give the machinery a better look. ] Well, I would very much like to know how it all works as well. Do you often take complicated machinery apart to put it back together?

library

[hypoxic]

{{OOC: OKAY so I know this tag isn't much other than giving Klaus some lead to assume the worst. Since we didn't talk about things before, I can edit this if you think you need a little more? I never know how to approach people JUST LET ME LOVE YOU OKAY.}}


[The library's never as full as it really ought to be. For all the prisoners Wonderland keeps, most of them seem borderline illiterate. Fitz is settled at a longer table, surrounded by thick stacks of science texts, from theoretical physics to advanced robotics. He takes notes in a tablet mostly, but Klaus' movements catch his eye. He doesn't directly approach or move to interact, but he does stare quite openly. It's rare that someone move through the classics with that kind of familiarity.

For most people, a little bit of staring isn't remarkable at all. It's how Fitz fell into the habit in the first place. It's not often that anyone notices him long enough to take offense, or think his intentions might be suspicious. Should their eyes ever meet though, Fitz is quick to awkwardly clear his throat and return to his reading. That wasn't enough to make it look like he wanted to have a conversation, right?]

[poppycock]

[OOC: NO WORRIES, THIS IS PERFECT! i'm so excited you tagged me :3 i've been stalking the mcu cast here and i love your fitz /chinhands

p.s. sorry this is so late!! i've been sick

p.p.s! klaus has a british accent jsyk!]


[ staring in and of itself isn't particularly remarkable, but with a reputation like klaus' and in a place such as this, it's certainly more notable in ways it might not be elsewhere. klaus notices him: the quiet man surrounded by books, the spines and covers revealing his passionate interest. it's a passing though assessing glance; everyone here is somewhat notable to him, considering there is no way of knowing their motives or capabilities. yet.

he's also aware of the eyes on him, how they linger and stay as he browses titles and editions of all sorts. it's not particularly aggravating, though he does tire of it and purposefully turns his head to catch the man's eye.

with some amusement at fitz's social faux pas, klaus closes the book he had opened (the brothers karamazov by dostoevsky) with an audible snap and turns to fully face his audience. he gestures to fitz's covered table. ] Some light reading?

[hypoxic]

{{ OOC: Oh, good! I mostly just the TVD/TO casts mourning the fact that I don't have the time to play the littlest Gilbert. And then I was like "WELL Klaus probably needs people to threaten / be afraid of him that's almost as good." And now we're here. I should stop talking. }}

[ This is exactly the opposite of what he'd hoped today would be like. Who even talks in libraries, anyway? Uncivilized people, that's who. ...Except uncivilized people aren't usually the kind to indulge themselves in that kind of literature. He stammers a reply once addressed, though it's more of a mumble than anything else.]

It's -- just. Nothing. I was only... There's much to be learned from the resources available here.

[poppycock]

[OOC: talk away!! aw the littlest gilbert :3 but yes klaus does enjoy intimidation and threats......]



[ it's been klaus' experience (and nature, actually) that civilized and uncivilized behavior are rarely mutually exclusive. he'd just as soon spend an afternoon reading as he would tearing an unfortunate someone or two apart. but if they're addressing uncivilized behavior, klaus would argue staring perhaps counts. (not that he's ever creepy himself. and knows it. :|)

mumble or not, klaus hears it and he's patient enough through the stammering. he looks at fitz assessingly, taking his measure. he gestures to the quiet, open tables around them. ] You would think more people would be here, in that case. And what are you hoping to learn?

vendors

[allaboutme]

[ no one is surprised to find cordelia checking out the vendors - shopping is therapy, alright, and this place is stressful. she's toying with some jewelry at the next table over, when she glances at klaus and catches the change in his expression. ]

Some kind of deep horse-related trauma?

[poppycock]

[ if she means how this one trinket could spell out the end of him or perhaps that it reminds him of the daughter he's been both willingly and now unwillingly separated from for a time, then yes. (not to mention that time his father slaughtered his horse...) but he doubts it. klaus looks down and schools his expression, steps forward with a casual but purposeful air to block the trinket from her sight. ] I actually quite enjoy riding. [ he glances to jewelry in front of her. ] Finding anything you like here?

[allaboutme]

Just window shopping, minus the windows. For now.

I was kind of hoping to find a nice crossbow.

[poppycock]

[ klaus lifts his brow. ] An odd weapon of choice.

library;

[walkingheroin]

[Lucifer has been spending some time in the library here and there, going through texts that are unfamiliar to him (since that's an occurrence that is new and exciting), and he's perusing along the spines of one of the shelves when he pauses next to Klaus as he's returning Hamlet to it's spot between Shakespeare's other works.]

Too tragic for you?

[poppycock]

[ klaus certainly finds much of the selection new and various degrees of engaging, but he lacks lucifer's excitement in the matter. it's methodical and purposeful, klaus' perusal, though his interest in this section is quite different. he's not surprised by the man's presence; it was quite obvious, but he wasn't expecting conversation.

it's not exactly welcome, particularly on this topic. not to mention it agitates him to be so addressed and with a pegging observation. it shows in the way klaus lifts his eyes to the ceiling and licks his lips. he's smiling, albeit sharply, when he turns to the man. ] Too familiar, you could say.

[walkingheroin]

[It's hard to tell if he simply doesn't care that he's agitating the man, or if he simply hasn't noticed.]

But which part? The murder, the betrayal, or perhaps a bit of both?

[poppycock]

Don't forget the insanity, paranoia, and vengeance. [ two can play this game ok ok

though maybe klaus' vibes are more subtly "back tf off buddy, i got all that and more"

he takes an ambling step or two closer. ] And what are you reading? [ he gestures to the shelf next to his new companion. ]