Sure. [ Tim puts down his glass on the counter, and shrugs off his coat, leaving it on the table for now, and then goes to wash his hands. He doesn't say anything for a little while as he's starting to chop their vegetables, focusing on his hands so he isn't caught up staring anywhere else. ]
Is your brother just gone, the way people just go around here? [ Tim asks lightly. ] 'Cause if he just ran off or somethin' I could give you a hand. It was my job back home, findin' people.
( As Tim washes his hands, Klaus arranges the shrimp in a low roasting pan, strictly to season evenly. He goes about his task. )
Truthfully, we don't know. We think, like others, he is - when we think he's from, back in New Orleans. But, if the truth is more sinister... ( He sets the spices aside again, lifting the pan and shaking it slightly. It probably looks silly. But, it's a technique. ) I believe he took our father's name again, Mikaelson. And he was last seen in New Beijing at dinner with his family. I suppose he could still be there. He has a tendency to up and desert his family from time to time. He had't... experienced as much as Hope and I have, enough that I believe he would make a different choice.
[ Tim frowns as he takes that all in, although it's mostly because he's concentrating on an even chop. ] Law of large numbers says he's probably gone back where y'all came from, [ he says evenly. ] But y'know, I'm kinda curious about that whole thing. Goin' back. Like, what makes it happen? Who's makin' that call?
( He sets down the roasting pan and tilts his head, turning the flame down under the pan. He holds a hand over the top, feeling the heat.
Kol was playing by someone's rules (Cassius') so he'd accomplished something. He wasn't sitting back and not fulfilling his directive. By that standard, Klaus had turned him down. )
Could it be the magic sustaining his presence had ceased. Or, would we all be returned. ( He doesn't know. He takes a sip from his wine, though, watching Tim chop. He is precise. )
[ Tim's loosely aware that Klaus is watching him, but it's not an entirely unpleasant feeling, which he's happy to take in. ] I can't believe you just said magic like that, [ he says around a little smile. ]
(made me? He stops, because he hasn't divulged this to Tim and apparently, he feels comfortable enough with him to simply speak of it off the cuff like so. He pauses, considering what he'll say. It's possible Tim might beat him to a response. Because he is in fact caught and it's not an easy sentence to talk his way out of. )
[ Tim waits, because it sounded like Klaus was going to finish that with something, but maybe not. He looks up from the counter, eyebrows lifted expectantly. ] About...? [ he prompts, gently. ]
( He stands, his glass in hand. He sips, looking at Tim over the rim. He sets his glass down and taps the stove one more time to turn the flame another setting lower to simmer. )
[ He's never going to get over 'Timothy', probably; nobody calls him that, not even his mom, not even his dad when he was alive. The only time he's ever been called it that he can remember is when someone was pinning a medal on his lapel.
And now Klaus.
Tim feels a little like he's being given a pop quiz, and he straightens up too, splaying one hand out on the counter with the heel of his hand pushing down a little so he can lean. ]
I can do that thing where you pretend like you pulled a coin outta somebody's ear.
( He smiles at that, tapping the oven again, turning the flame up and holding his hand over to feel the temperature. )
And if I said, I was magic?
( That's said into his wine glass. It's a half-truth. He was made by magic. Born a werewolf but he and his siblings were made into something greater. )
( His eyebrows go up at that as he sets his glass down. That settles that, then. He's about to ask if Tim wants him to, but he thinks he knows the answer. And he's turned the tables on him too many times to know he shuts down. So, he decides to give him a little information at a time, which also gives Tim the out in case he ever wants it.
He pours the shrimp over the olive oil, filing the pan he's heated. )
Magic, like, my mother thought she'd protect me and my other siblings - and our father - and she made me what I am. With magic. Because, she was a witch.
[ The thing is that objectively Tim knows, he knows that there are all sorts of people around here. Hell, according to Nate there are vampires running around. But there's something about hearing that that makes him throw up a couple blinders, mostly for the sake of self preservation. He chops steadily, measuring his reactions by the slow, even thud of the knife hitting the chopping board. ]
Like a real witch? Not one of those astrology types with the healin' crystals?
( He watches Tim as the mood shifts from flirtin' with me to questions and chopping. )
Timothy. ( He roaches out, finger gently brushing Tim's arm and trying to still his wrist. ) I know you've sussed out a few inconsistencies with my childhood and perhaps my accent. My ... traveling. If you wish, you can ask me. About any of it. Something about you disarms me and I find I can trust you. And, if at any time this is too overwhelming. You can leave. Although, I will be disappointed I'll have to eat this shrimp myself. And, if you take your leave I can't go about flirting with you, now can I?
[ The second Klaus's finger touches his wrist, Tim goes very still, the methodical movement of his chopping abruptly halted. He wonders for a second if Klaus can see the way his heart is thudding all of a sudden, not fast but just louder, like his whole body is thrumming with his pulse. If Klaus wasn't wearing gloves, and Tim's shirt wasn't long-sleeved, he wonders what the hell he would've sent over his way, and what Klaus would have given to him in return.
It's a lot to take in on its own, the implication that there's something to question, that Tim has to ask things to understand Klaus, and perhaps strangest of all, the outright confession that Klaus trusts him, for whatever reason. He swallows, thinly, and flexes his grip on the knife before he sets it down. ]
I'm not gonna go, [ he says, carefully. If nothing else, he's just too curious at this point. ] Are you magic like your momma was?
[ Why he says that and not 'mother' or even 'mom', he isn't sure, but it's out there now. ]
( It's the gloves he's wearing that makes him be so open, so physical. But, in truth he's a physical person. And if Tim's long sleeves were shorter or Klaus' gloves off, Klaus may not have hesitated.
He doesn't move his hand however, keeping their covered contact. )
I have no access to real magic, but everything I am is directly because of that magic. ( He lets go then, bringing his hand back. ) I could tell you our entire story, one event into the next, or I can answer more questions. It may come off as a lecture of sorts and that isn't my intention.
[ He wants to ask questions, a lot of them, but the issue is that he doesn't really know where to start. Frowning a little, he sniffs, lifting his head, fixing Klaus with a serious look that isn't overtly hostile. ] Can we finish cookin' first?
( This he has no problem with, removing his hand finally and returning to his task. He finishes the shrimp in the pan, tilting so the olive oil reaches every piece. He turns the shrimp as they go. At times, he does look to Tim, watches him shop or prepare the vegetables he'd chopped in the pan Klaus provided. At one point, Klaus puts the top of his pan to steam a little but and keep the shrimp juicy as he takes another sip from his wine, again, glancing at Tim behind his back.
It's not long before their ready and he pours them over a colander. Taking it in his hand, he shakes, letting the excess oil out before collecting them into a bowl and moving that bowl to the square-shaped dining room table. )
[ In the quiet, Tim has a lot of time to think. This whole place is so fucking weird and he never gives himself enough rope on that score. It's weird, and most of the people here are from worlds so far removed from his own that he can't even begin to comprehend it. Maybe having similar comprehension issues with the world that he now lives in is what's keeping him from just dissolving entirely â it's like a barrier, somehow, keeping him from a complete mental breakdown.
So by the time the food is ready, Tim's... not exactly clear-headed on things, but significantly less unsteady. He has another sip of his wine, which tastes fine, actually, it's nothing special but he can stomach it, and turns around to lean against the counter. Sitting down at the table seems presumptuous, somehow.
He's not terrible at interrogating people. That's not to say he wants this to be an interrogation, but it's how he feels comfortable. If Klaus is going to blindside him, on purpose or otherwise, then he doesn't want to just roll over to that. ]
Okay. You said everythin' you are is because of magic. What are you?
( There food is on the table, their pans on the stove. They stand, oddly in two separate places, but in the same apartment. So, Klaus waits. He doesn't sit yet, either.
He asks a very direct question, so Klaus gives a direct answer. )
I was born a werewolf, although my father and siblings were not aware. My mother had had an affair with a man in the neighboring village. Not long after settling in Virginia, by way of Norway, our brother Henrik died. On the night of the full moon, I'd taken him out of our village. You can guess what happened. Our mother was distraught, and determined not to lose any more of her children. She made it so that our lives couldn't end. There was no word for it then, but I believe the term you may have heard of to be, vampire. ( He knows the term, he just doesn't know how pop-culture obsessed Tim is, or if vampires exist in his reality. ) I'm half werewolf, half vampire. I called myself a hybrid. The hybrid.
[ He should have been prepared for that, on some level at least. Nate already told him about vampires â or at least the one that bit him â and he's had more than enough time to deal with magic considering he has a power now, even if he can barely control it and doesn't really know what it is. But hearing it all at once is... a lot to take in.
Tim doesn't say anything for maybe a minute, his jaw working softly as he takes it in. ]
So d'you â like, turn into a wolf?
[ Maybe he'll freak out about this later. Really freak out, not just stand still, gently nonplussed, chewing the inside of his cheek. He remembers wondering if Klaus could see his heartbeat racing sometime and it worries him a little that maybe he could. ]
It's not my preferred form, but before it was stripped of me thanks to an invasive neural implant, I could. It is not something to be trifled with or taken lightly. In short, you break every bone in your body in order to achieve the transition. Once you're a wolf, there's nothing like it. The freedom.
[ Tim pulls a face; he can't really help it. He glances over at Klaus, his lips pulled up a little at one corner. Weirdly, he hasn't had much exposure to the fact that some people lose powers when they come here, instead of just gaining them. ] So d'you need, like... blood?
It's a bit crass thinking of it like that, as I can still taste and enjoy real food. But, yes. Blood sustains me. Without it, I would desiccate. ( He only lets one moment pass before adding. ) You and every other person here is safe from me. I'm not the rabid sort. El has arranged for blood.
( He keeps back how classy he always was about it, compelling those whose wrists they fed from. Usually from glasses. But, with a daughter in tow, they did store their blood. They still drank from glasses. )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
interminably) wrote2019-10-28 12:30 pm
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Is your brother just gone, the way people just go around here? [ Tim asks lightly. ] 'Cause if he just ran off or somethin' I could give you a hand. It was my job back home, findin' people.
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Truthfully, we don't know. We think, like others, he is - when we think he's from, back in New Orleans. But, if the truth is more sinister... ( He sets the spices aside again, lifting the pan and shaking it slightly. It probably looks silly. But, it's a technique. ) I believe he took our father's name again, Mikaelson. And he was last seen in New Beijing at dinner with his family. I suppose he could still be there. He has a tendency to up and desert his family from time to time. He had't... experienced as much as Hope and I have, enough that I believe he would make a different choice.
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( He sets down the roasting pan and tilts his head, turning the flame down under the pan. He holds a hand over the top, feeling the heat.
Kol was playing by someone's rules (Cassius') so he'd accomplished something. He wasn't sitting back and not fulfilling his directive. By that standard, Klaus had turned him down. )
Could it be the magic sustaining his presence had ceased. Or, would we all be returned. ( He doesn't know. He takes a sip from his wine, though, watching Tim chop. He is precise. )
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( made me? He stops, because he hasn't divulged this to Tim and apparently, he feels comfortable enough with him to simply speak of it off the cuff like so. He pauses, considering what he'll say. It's possible Tim might beat him to a response. Because he is in fact caught and it's not an easy sentence to talk his way out of. )
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What do you know of magic, Timothy?
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And now Klaus.
Tim feels a little like he's being given a pop quiz, and he straightens up too, splaying one hand out on the counter with the heel of his hand pushing down a little so he can lean. ]
I can do that thing where you pretend like you pulled a coin outta somebody's ear.
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And if I said, I was magic?
( That's said into his wine glass. It's a half-truth. He was made by magic. Born a werewolf but he and his siblings were made into something greater. )
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He pours the shrimp over the olive oil, filing the pan he's heated. )
Magic, like, my mother thought she'd protect me and my other siblings - and our father - and she made me what I am. With magic. Because, she was a witch.
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Like a real witch? Not one of those astrology types with the healin' crystals?
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( He watches Tim as the mood shifts from flirtin' with me to questions and chopping. )
Timothy. ( He roaches out, finger gently brushing Tim's arm and trying to still his wrist. ) I know you've sussed out a few inconsistencies with my childhood and perhaps my accent. My ... traveling. If you wish, you can ask me. About any of it. Something about you disarms me and I find I can trust you. And, if at any time this is too overwhelming. You can leave. Although, I will be disappointed I'll have to eat this shrimp myself. And, if you take your leave I can't go about flirting with you, now can I?
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It's a lot to take in on its own, the implication that there's something to question, that Tim has to ask things to understand Klaus, and perhaps strangest of all, the outright confession that Klaus trusts him, for whatever reason. He swallows, thinly, and flexes his grip on the knife before he sets it down. ]
I'm not gonna go, [ he says, carefully. If nothing else, he's just too curious at this point. ] Are you magic like your momma was?
[ Why he says that and not 'mother' or even 'mom', he isn't sure, but it's out there now. ]
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He doesn't move his hand however, keeping their covered contact. )
I have no access to real magic, but everything I am is directly because of that magic. ( He lets go then, bringing his hand back. ) I could tell you our entire story, one event into the next, or I can answer more questions. It may come off as a lecture of sorts and that isn't my intention.
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( This he has no problem with, removing his hand finally and returning to his task. He finishes the shrimp in the pan, tilting so the olive oil reaches every piece. He turns the shrimp as they go. At times, he does look to Tim, watches him shop or prepare the vegetables he'd chopped in the pan Klaus provided. At one point, Klaus puts the top of his pan to steam a little but and keep the shrimp juicy as he takes another sip from his wine, again, glancing at Tim behind his back.
It's not long before their ready and he pours them over a colander. Taking it in his hand, he shakes, letting the excess oil out before collecting them into a bowl and moving that bowl to the square-shaped dining room table. )
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So by the time the food is ready, Tim's... not exactly clear-headed on things, but significantly less unsteady. He has another sip of his wine, which tastes fine, actually, it's nothing special but he can stomach it, and turns around to lean against the counter. Sitting down at the table seems presumptuous, somehow.
He's not terrible at interrogating people. That's not to say he wants this to be an interrogation, but it's how he feels comfortable. If Klaus is going to blindside him, on purpose or otherwise, then he doesn't want to just roll over to that. ]
Okay. You said everythin' you are is because of magic. What are you?
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He asks a very direct question, so Klaus gives a direct answer. )
I was born a werewolf, although my father and siblings were not aware. My mother had had an affair with a man in the neighboring village. Not long after settling in Virginia, by way of Norway, our brother Henrik died. On the night of the full moon, I'd taken him out of our village. You can guess what happened. Our mother was distraught, and determined not to lose any more of her children. She made it so that our lives couldn't end. There was no word for it then, but I believe the term you may have heard of to be, vampire. ( He knows the term, he just doesn't know how pop-culture obsessed Tim is, or if vampires exist in his reality. ) I'm half werewolf, half vampire. I called myself a hybrid. The hybrid.
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Tim doesn't say anything for maybe a minute, his jaw working softly as he takes it in. ]
So d'you â like, turn into a wolf?
[ Maybe he'll freak out about this later. Really freak out, not just stand still, gently nonplussed, chewing the inside of his cheek. He remembers wondering if Klaus could see his heartbeat racing sometime and it worries him a little that maybe he could. ]
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It's not my preferred form, but before it was stripped of me thanks to an invasive neural implant, I could. It is not something to be trifled with or taken lightly. In short, you break every bone in your body in order to achieve the transition. Once you're a wolf, there's nothing like it. The freedom.
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( He keeps back how classy he always was about it, compelling those whose wrists they fed from. Usually from glasses. But, with a daughter in tow, they did store their blood. They still drank from glasses. )
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