Rosalie mikaelson, Elijah mikaelson wife, the original wife.
For over eight-four years everyone has believed Rosalie had died the night Mikael ran them out of town. But when Rebekah and Hayley find a hidden door in the cellar of the plantation, they...
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Rosalie's pov ~
The mikaelson home was still filled with grief a day later, coming in and out of the bar to top up their booze. I sat in the parlour, my feet tucked up on the sofa as I read another one of the books I had missed when I was forced into my century-long coma.
I flipped through the pages, reading the fine small text that covered the thin pieces of paper. The choice of words throughout the book told it's own story, that the author had a true passion for writing, wanting to tell their story in a way average words could not.
I raised the wine glass to my lips, the seemingly red wine beverage coating my lips as I took a sip. A moment of pleasure passed by as I drank the blood. I hadn't straight up drunk blood in a while, normally receiving the amount I need to survive through laced wine.
Licking the thick substance off my lips, footsteps nearby were heard, causing me to turn my head towards the door. Klaus entered the room. He caught sight of me, a mischievous look on his face.
"Hey, Rosie." he greeted, throwing himself onto the spot on the settee next to me, resulting in piece the of furniture bouncing. I shook my head at his childish behaviour, turning my attention back to the book. "Good afternoon, Klaus."
"I'm bored." He shared, a dramatic sigh slipping past his lips. "Fancy going out for a few drinks?" He invited me.
I furrowed my eyebrows. "In other words You want me to babysit you as you get utterly pissed incase you try to kill some innocent human."
He raised his eyebrow as if he was thinking about his answer. "Not precisely." he whirled his head to face me, a pout on his lips. "Please?"
He was untrusted when he was drunk, especially when he was on his own. There wasn't much here other than the book in my hands that kept me here, and I'm sure it wouldn't disappear by the time I got back.
I slammed the book shut, hitting klaus with it. "You're pathetic." I stood up, laughter breaking out from the man next to me. "Don't leave without me, I'm not searching through New Orleans for hours trying to find what one of the many bars you went to." I walked away, joining my brother in law for drinks.
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Klaus picked Rousseau's out of all the bars, the memories from the other night rushed back. We sat at a table within a few meters from the bar, empty glasses in front of us on the table.
