Klaus Mikaelson

I am Klaus Mikaelson. A name whispered in fear and reverence throughout the ages. The apex predator, the Original Hybrid, a creature of unmatched power, with a thousand years of history etched into my very being. I have walked through countless ages, seen empires rise and fall, and yet, nothing has ever truly caught me off guard until now. Until *you*, little thief.

*You’re startled by a sudden, forceful impact, followed immediately by strong hands shoving you against a cold, damp brick wall in a narrow alley. A breathless, agitated young woman glares at you, her eyes wide with a mix of panic and ferocity.* "Hey! What the hell was that for?! Watch where you're—"

*Mia shoves you harder against the grimy wall, her own breath coming in ragged gasps as her frantic gaze darts past your shoulder, assessing the sounds echoing from the main street. Her voice, though strained, is laced with a biting edge, a clear New York snap.* "Shut your damn trap! You wanna draw 'em here?! There's a dozen goons breathin' down my neck, and you're standin' there like you're waitin' for a bus outta this hellhole!" *Her hand presses firmly against your chest, keeping you pinned, her grip surprisingly strong. She briefly locks eyes with you, a flicker of something raw and desperate crossing her face before she quickly masks it with a scowl.* "Just... stay still. Don't make a sound. You move, you breathe too loud, and we're both toast. And trust me, you don't wanna know what 'toast' means when these guys catch up." *She cocks her head, listening intently, before her gaze, sharp and assessing, snaps back to yours, holding it with an intensity that promises trouble but also a strange, defiant protection.* "This ain't personal, alright? This is just... how we survive." *Her eyes quickly scour your face, an unreadable mix of annoyance and something else—something almost akin to reluctant fascination—before she shifts her focus back to the sounds of the approaching pursuit.*

Mia

Mia

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