entranceway | ᴏɴᴇ . ᴀᴄᴄɪᴅᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ᴠɪᴅᴇᴏ

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ᴏɴᴇ . ᴀᴄᴄɪᴅᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ᴠɪᴅᴇᴏ

[ those soft squelching sounds, insistent and crying meows, and thumps you hear are accompanied by flashes of color and white fur. this is iskra, a cat, being absolutely impossible and absolutely adorable to her sometimes master (or perhaps more aptly put, subject) klaus mikaelson.

both of which the lucky audience of wonderland gets to see, quite candidly, in a moment. ] Iskra. [ klaus' admonishment is spoken in a gruff undertone but the affection is obvious; it's not the first nor does he expect the last time his afternoon companion will demand more attention than she's due. (but that doesn't mean he won't give it to her.)

he pulls the cat against his chest, his fingers spotted just some with paint. there are speckles of color on iskra as well, and her paws, one of which she lifts to nudge at klaus' chin, leaving behind a blue spot. he blinks but is nonetheless charmed by her familiar behavior despite himself. then, not to be outdone, she reaches to do the same to the canvas.

with a soft tsk of more admonishment, klaus teases her. ] A modernist, are we? A pointillist?

[ it's only then the movement of the recording video on his phone catches klaus' attention. ] Bloody— [ the "hell" bit is cut off, mostly because iskra leaps from klaus' arms to the paw the phone now too.

fin. ]

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[ she killed someone she loves. it changed her in ways she doesn't know that she could ever put to words, and it's so hard for her to say those words. she pulled the trigger, blew out his brains right in front of her. clementine hears the genuine apology in his voice. it's rare to find in her world where everyone's been through hell, and they only ever want to lash out. she swallows. ] I had to become tough and hard. I had to figure out- I had to take care of myself more cause no one else would. I think some part of me got fucked up that day that doesn't-

It won't get fixed.

[ it is what it is. she is what she is. ]

You're a father?

[ it both humbles and frightens him, understanding she is entrusting the words she speaks now to him and him alone. klaus' hands wring offscreen; this is what he's been afraid of being here, in wonderland. it's his unspoken fear, tangential and connected to his fears of being a father in this cycle of violence: that he would be entrusted. that he could fail or break that trust, as he already has. as he's already done, to marcel.

he blinks past the tears that fill his eyes but do not spill. there is little time to entertain his fear when she speaks, the words pulled from his very own heart and transported into this little girl, so young and undeserving of her fate. the true devastation is that klaus knows that life is not often gentle nor kind. he believes her. he believes that something in her broke that day.

as he has been broken. as he has seen countless others broken. (as he has broke countless others.) the only solace and grace there is to consider is that she is still here. she is living and breathing and strong. and he knows, just from this short conversation, that she feels and cares. she does so like so many others might cease to feel or care after it all.

he fights those tears; his features soften. ] It might. It's important to have hope. If the toughest and hardest of us all can find hope [ his wavering smile is small and rueful ] —and I assure you, that is I...— You are not broken. Not completely. We all learn to live with the pieces that take time.

[ he pauses and confesses: ] I am. To a little girl I miss very much.

Edited 2017-03-27 01:46 (UTC)

[ clementine narrows her gaze when he mentions that he is the toughest and hardest of them all. how can he know something like that except he speaks with certainty. and she knows there are harder, tougher, stronger people than her here. most people are back where she's from even without supernatural powers thrown into the mix. she's learned how to navigate, how to fight back, how to use everyone's expectations of her to her advantage.

it's always scraping by.

she stares at her hands, uncertain of how he can speak with such certainty, without knowing all the things she has done. tough and hard, does that mean he's done things of his own? it changes- it changes people. making mistakes which cost people's lives. killing. hurting people. surviving at any cost. why did she stay? why did she look? why was she able to chop off sarita's arm as if that's something someone just does whatever the goddamn reason?

her eyes burn. they flood. she scrubs at her face with tiny fists. ] Thank you. [ her voice cracks. she draws her breath out between her teeth. ]

It must be really hard being away from her. I'm glad time stops while we're here so she doesn't have to miss you too. [ she can still hear the voicemail her mother left while she was up in the tree house, hiding before lee found her. how much she wanted to get back to her. ] Is she why you were able to find hope?

[ sometimes the kindest mercy that can be offered is the mercy of quiet poise. he gives her that now, lets her gather herself with the same, even as her obvious anguish forms a lump in his throat, a desire in his bones to do for her that which cannot be replaced. (she lost her guardian. her caretaker. her friend. he wonders where her parents are, is she lost them, if it were as violent, as terrible.)

he can hardly fight his tears at the kindness she shows him. they surge and grow that lump in his throat until he can barely breathe, because it is hard, being away from her. it's harder still, knowing that even at home, he is. it's nearly unbearable, knowing hope does not have the comfort clementine speaks of, for time does not stop at home, and eventually his daughter will not know him anymore.

his voice his thick with his unshed tears. ] Yes. She is. That's her name: Hope.

I'm Klaus.

[ she smirks softly despite the emotion she can read on his face when it turns out hope is actually his daughter's name instead of only what she was able to give to him. ] Lucky guess. That's a beautiful name.

I'm Clementine.

[ there's another pause then as she studies his expression. she has had to become so good at reading people, so perceptive of her surroundings. ]

It's complicated, isn't it? [ it's said more as an acknowledgement of what she reads between the lines without asking for details. it's not so simple as he gets home, and he can return to her. there's more going on. people come from very terrible, very painful worlds. she wants to stay, because she has nothing to return to, but if lee were still alive- if her parents were, would she feel differently?

she doesn't know. ]

[ more perceptive than most adults he knows, and that includes immortals. besides, he's found that generally children do have the capacity for perception that those older than them do not—he remembers marcellus, just have full and kind and compassionate he was. (how much he is, despite the horrors and betrayals that haunt him now.)

klaus blinks still at her articulattion, and then he nods. ] It is. But I know I will do anything to see her again, and so I will.

[ his chest is full: with emotion, with things he feels but does not speak. he weathers it all. ]

Clementine is also a beautiful name. Do you like it?

You will.

[ it's said very firmly now that she's shelved her ache back up where it belongs. she'll believe it, because he does and he says it with fierceness like there are no other options. because she understands being willing to do anything to see someone again. to find someone.

she smiles a bit when he says she has a beautiful name too. she didn't used to think much of her name either way, but now it has different meaning to it. ]

Yeah. My parents gave it to me. [ it's one of the few things she keeps from them so it's important for her to hold on to it. her name and her hat. ] My mom used to eat those little oranges when she was pregnant with me, and she liked how it sounded so she named me after them.

[ she does understand, and that understanding and mirrored fierceness in his knowing moves him; it's not every day he encounters someone will the same spirit and belief and drive, let alone the faith to make it so.

he swallows thickly, lashes fluttering as he looks away. he's smiling softly as she goes on. she has that of her parents, he assumes; a piece of them, living on in her and a reminder every day, of who she is. ] Apparently your mother and I both thought literally when naming our children.

[ clementine smirks and then a little laugh escapes her. ] Yeah. Not very creative, huh? Kinda surprising since you paint. [ she's teasing. ] But it's accurate. That's probably more important.

Thanks for... talking to me.

[ he certainly can't argue that, nor can he stifle the smile and scoffed laugh that results from it. it's not creative,
but she's also right to say the accuracy is more important. her mother loved her so much she wanted to give her a name worthy of the memories she had of her daughter before she was even born.

and hope... well. ] I agree. It is.

You're welcome. [ it touches him, the gratitude. it softens him and lights him up, that worth. ] It's been... lovely talking to you.

[ clementine smiles in amusement but warmth too. instinctively, she gets talking to kids is probably both painful but good for him when he's missing his daughter like he is. ]

Fancy talk. [ she points out, less because the words are big and more because it sounds fancy in his voice. and she doesn't meet many people who use a word like lovely. ] But ditto.

[ and with that, she'll cut the feed. ]

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ᴏɴᴇ . ᴀᴄᴄɪᴅᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ᴠɪᴅᴇᴏ

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