[ there's only one thought in his mind, at the end.
it turns over and over, amongst the flashes, the aches, the terrors of this night and all the unknown uncertainties they will usher. he remembers the curve to mirror freya's wrist as she cursed him, the pain that broke his bones. he sees the wide-eyed, clawing determination for life in evelyn's. he tastes the flow of blood, unending. that young girl's screams and desperate fight. caroline's, when his fangs ripped through her flesh. lucifer's terror in his recognition.
he remembers the stain of freya's tears on her cheeks. the willed strength of rebekah's hands. the bow of damon's head and the emptiness in his eyes. the part of elena's white lips, so stark against the blood-red gash on her neck.
but there's only one thought that matters. that sticks. that lifts from the anguish and ashes when all is said and done and he steps out of the violated safety of he and his sisters' home.
he goes to find his friend.
pale and drawn, angry and disquieted in his hope that it's not so and concern that it is, he finds him. leopold is at the labs, of course. because where else would he be, orchestrator of all that is? (and hasn't he, klaus, played his part?)
he goes through the motions. he lets the machinery work, verifying his identity, letting him through the safeguards one by one.
there's no mistaking the scene that greets him, nor the look on leo's face when he lifts his head. klaus' breath shakes; his chest tremors visibly. tears fill his eyes. for a moment he believes he will tear him apart. (what would it do? he might as well tear himself to pieces, for all the blame he desires to cast off.) it's rage. it's decimation. it's resignation. his jaw tightens against it all. ] Was it you? [ the words are thick and tired and commanding; they want answers. ]
[It's wrong. It's already become a presence on the network. Something's unsettled the mirrors and made them brave enough to cross over. Something's happened. Something's drawn them here.
Fitz isn't naive enough to think it's wholly independent from their experiment. Ever since the figure emerged from their portal, it's been a sign of alarm. He can't get in touch with Cisco to help troubleshoot.
There's been screaming.
And so he's been working. The portal has been dead since an hour after it opened, and nothing he's tried has yet yielded results. It's not an event. It's entirely linked to something more mundane than that. The only thing that's been out of the ordinary is this. He's working at a fever pitch when Klaus emerges, and it takes a minute before Fitz acknowledges him. The alarms weren't set off, so it has to be someone with access. It'll be fine.
But when Klaus speaks, it snatches hold of Fitz's entire attention. His eyes raise, and he takes in Klaus as he is in his entirety. There's an emotion there which rarely passes the careful stoicism Klaus prefers to present. Something's happened. Something's happened that's affected Klaus. Is Cami all right??
He doesn't dispute the words that are simultaneously question and accusation. There's no time to deny, to request clarification. They both know what he means.]
It shouldn't have happened this way. I don't know how they've hijacked access.
he told leopold to be careful, knowing intimately and through his own experiences the eventuality of risk and the reckless, naive way leopold handles the same, arrogant and full of determined drive, inarguable certainty constructed from the desperation he clings to with terrified fingers.
he has counted on it, from the beginning. (he has been the same.) the moment he saw that endless, blind need to return home in leopold's eyes, full of decision and fierceness, he knew where to turn to meet his ends. their ends. his daughter's ends.
that question that defines him: what is best for his daughter? what can he do that is best for her?
what is best, even at the sacrifice of all else?
a sickness and rage rolls over in him.
he wanted this.
klaus hears the words leopold says, but they do nothing but shake loose the anger and terror breathing inside of him. they splinter the breaks in him wider. this is what he hears: it wasn't the plan. it's out of his control. in all his intelligence and their hubris, he is attempting to fix it.
there is nothing after this that can be fixed. it starts in his hands. they curl into fists, his flashing eyes falling to the floor. it spreads up his arms, into his shoulders. it bursts from his heart, the blistering and unimaginable grief and uncertainty and fury pulsing through him, amplified by a millennium of cursed magic running through his veins. he cannot feel and he feels everything all at once.
(he wants to bellow. to rip. to tear. he knows, the violence shining in his eyes, that if he directs it towards fitz he will not forgive himself. it will not change what has happened today. it will not change what he has decided, what path he chose, and what came from it.)
it takes every inch of his will to turn after taking an aimless, lost step forward. it takes every inch of his will not to buckle under the strength of his weariness. he lifts a fist, leans it without incident against the doorway.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
night of 5/13
it turns over and over, amongst the flashes, the aches, the terrors of this night and all the unknown uncertainties they will usher. he remembers the curve to mirror freya's wrist as she cursed him, the pain that broke his bones. he sees the wide-eyed, clawing determination for life in evelyn's. he tastes the flow of blood, unending. that young girl's screams and desperate fight. caroline's, when his fangs ripped through her flesh. lucifer's terror in his recognition.
he remembers the stain of freya's tears on her cheeks. the willed strength of rebekah's hands. the bow of damon's head and the emptiness in his eyes. the part of elena's white lips, so stark against the blood-red gash on her neck.
but there's only one thought that matters. that sticks. that lifts from the anguish and ashes when all is said and done and he steps out of the violated safety of he and his sisters' home.
he goes to find his friend.
pale and drawn, angry and disquieted in his hope that it's not so and concern that it is, he finds him. leopold is at the labs, of course. because where else would he be, orchestrator of all that is? (and hasn't he, klaus, played his part?)
he goes through the motions. he lets the machinery work, verifying his identity, letting him through the safeguards one by one.
there's no mistaking the scene that greets him, nor the look on leo's face when he lifts his head. klaus' breath shakes; his chest tremors visibly. tears fill his eyes. for a moment he believes he will tear him apart. (what would it do? he might as well tear himself to pieces, for all the blame he desires to cast off.) it's rage. it's decimation. it's resignation. his jaw tightens against it all. ] Was it you? [ the words are thick and tired and commanding; they want answers. ]
no subject
Fitz isn't naive enough to think it's wholly independent from their experiment. Ever since the figure emerged from their portal, it's been a sign of alarm. He can't get in touch with Cisco to help troubleshoot.
There's been screaming.
And so he's been working. The portal has been dead since an hour after it opened, and nothing he's tried has yet yielded results. It's not an event. It's entirely linked to something more mundane than that. The only thing that's been out of the ordinary is this. He's working at a fever pitch when Klaus emerges, and it takes a minute before Fitz acknowledges him. The alarms weren't set off, so it has to be someone with access. It'll be fine.
But when Klaus speaks, it snatches hold of Fitz's entire attention. His eyes raise, and he takes in Klaus as he is in his entirety. There's an emotion there which rarely passes the careful stoicism Klaus prefers to present. Something's happened. Something's happened that's affected Klaus. Is Cami all right??
He doesn't dispute the words that are simultaneously question and accusation. There's no time to deny, to request clarification. They both know what he means.]
It shouldn't have happened this way. I don't know how they've hijacked access.
no subject
he told leopold to be careful, knowing intimately and through his own experiences the eventuality of risk and the reckless, naive way leopold handles the same, arrogant and full of determined drive, inarguable certainty constructed from the desperation he clings to with terrified fingers.
he has counted on it, from the beginning. (he has been the same.) the moment he saw that endless, blind need to return home in leopold's eyes, full of decision and fierceness, he knew where to turn to meet his ends. their ends. his daughter's ends.
that question that defines him: what is best for his daughter? what can he do that is best for her?
what is best, even at the sacrifice of all else?
a sickness and rage rolls over in him.
he wanted this.
klaus hears the words leopold says, but they do nothing but shake loose the anger and terror breathing inside of him. they splinter the breaks in him wider. this is what he hears: it wasn't the plan. it's out of his control. in all his intelligence and their hubris, he is attempting to fix it.
there is nothing after this that can be fixed. it starts in his hands. they curl into fists, his flashing eyes falling to the floor. it spreads up his arms, into his shoulders. it bursts from his heart, the blistering and unimaginable grief and uncertainty and fury pulsing through him, amplified by a millennium of cursed magic running through his veins. he cannot feel and he feels everything all at once.
(he wants to bellow. to rip. to tear. he knows, the violence shining in his eyes, that if he directs it towards fitz he will not forgive himself. it will not change what has happened today. it will not change what he has decided, what path he chose, and what came from it.)
it takes every inch of his will to turn after taking an aimless, lost step forward. it takes every inch of his will not to buckle under the strength of his weariness. he lifts a fist, leans it without incident against the doorway.
his knuckles whiten. he strides out. ]