![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Klaus knew he should be in New York. Rebekah and Elijah were there and from what he'd been able to gather they had been at least a little upset at his supposed demise. He should have known he could count on Rebekah, but honestly, one of them should have finished what he'd started before Alaric got to him. But, no. Elijah had been in charge of the plan, and the gods knew he was incapable of walking away from a doppelganger in distress.
Still, the little witch had saved him in her own way, much as it pained her, and now that he'd gotten his own body back--not that living in Tyler's for a while hadn't had its own perks--well. There wasn't much point in staying in Mystic Falls when his doppelganger was now useless and Bekah and Elijah had gone.
He knew Elijah had been in New York, so that was the obvious place, and sure enough, there they were. Just walking up to them and knocking on the door had its appeal, but a sort of nervousness he didn't fully recognize had stilled his move toward the door. He'd though things were getting back to how they should be before Mother started her plan. Then Elijah had gone and had his crisis of conscience (and making up for that was probably why he'd gotten a bloody stake through his heart) and then Rebekah had gotten fed up with his hybrid obsession and left and now...well, now he'd had his realization that he didn't need (and couldn't have anymore anyway, fine) his hybrids anymore. He had his family.
If they'd have him back. And there was the sticking point that kept him from just letting himself into the house. So, he watched instead. Noted the man Elijah was with, which was strange enough to be notable. That threw another sort of wrench into things he needed to figure out, and the City was too small for the three of them. So he'd gone to London, opening up the townhouse and swearing the staff to secrecy that he was there--no phone calls back to Elijah, not yet.
Now he was out, hunting. Well, and drawing, but he did that when unsettled, and it made a very good ploy to draw people in. He stretched his hand, working out the cramp, and was caught by his bare fingers. He still had his family ring--identical to the ones his siblings wore--but he hadn't worn it since breaking his curse. Didn't need it now. Still, his fingers looked odd without it, after a thousand years, and he half wondered if he should wear it again, as some sort sign of solidarity. It was on a chain around his throat, and he brushed his fingertips over it, before shrugging. He'd consider it, for them, but not right now.
Still frowning a little bit to himself, he went back to his sketchpad.
Still, the little witch had saved him in her own way, much as it pained her, and now that he'd gotten his own body back--not that living in Tyler's for a while hadn't had its own perks--well. There wasn't much point in staying in Mystic Falls when his doppelganger was now useless and Bekah and Elijah had gone.
He knew Elijah had been in New York, so that was the obvious place, and sure enough, there they were. Just walking up to them and knocking on the door had its appeal, but a sort of nervousness he didn't fully recognize had stilled his move toward the door. He'd though things were getting back to how they should be before Mother started her plan. Then Elijah had gone and had his crisis of conscience (and making up for that was probably why he'd gotten a bloody stake through his heart) and then Rebekah had gotten fed up with his hybrid obsession and left and now...well, now he'd had his realization that he didn't need (and couldn't have anymore anyway, fine) his hybrids anymore. He had his family.
If they'd have him back. And there was the sticking point that kept him from just letting himself into the house. So, he watched instead. Noted the man Elijah was with, which was strange enough to be notable. That threw another sort of wrench into things he needed to figure out, and the City was too small for the three of them. So he'd gone to London, opening up the townhouse and swearing the staff to secrecy that he was there--no phone calls back to Elijah, not yet.
Now he was out, hunting. Well, and drawing, but he did that when unsettled, and it made a very good ploy to draw people in. He stretched his hand, working out the cramp, and was caught by his bare fingers. He still had his family ring--identical to the ones his siblings wore--but he hadn't worn it since breaking his curse. Didn't need it now. Still, his fingers looked odd without it, after a thousand years, and he half wondered if he should wear it again, as some sort sign of solidarity. It was on a chain around his throat, and he brushed his fingertips over it, before shrugging. He'd consider it, for them, but not right now.
Still frowning a little bit to himself, he went back to his sketchpad.
