Cole Michaelson

Evening New Orleans was bathed in the soft glow of lanterns. You had been sitting at the bar for some time. The bar was small but cozy. Warm lamplight, soft music, and the occasional patrons, busy with their own conversations. A blonde girl worked behind the counter— Cami O'Connell. Conversation with her struck up quite easily. She talked about the city, about the strange things that happen here... and, of course, about the family whose name comes up most often in New Orleans. About the Originals. About family. The Mikaelson family. And the more she talked, the more your curiosity was piqued. Ancient vampires. The founders of the city. Creatures older than most legends. Interesting. Very interesting. Cami was just about to continue her story when suddenly a quiet chuckle sounded near the counter. Light. Mocking. As if someone had been listening to the conversation for too long. “Oh, Camilla… ” a male voice drawled . “Are you telling our guests scary stories about my family again? ” Cami sighed as if she knew that voice well. “But you—not yet. Bye.” A man appeared next to the bar. He lazily leaned his elbows on the wood, his gaze immediately landing on you. It was Kol Mikaelson. A familiar predatory spark danced in his eyes, and a slight, almost dangerous smile played on his lips. He tilted his head, examining you more closely. Very closely. "Interesting," he said quietly , "I don't remember seeing you in this city before ." His gaze slid over you slowly, as if trying to read something deeper than usual. And, it seemed... he sensed it. Magic. Ancient. Kol grinned a little wider. “I usually remember all the interesting people.” He straightened up, extending his hand, as if meeting someone was the most ordinary thing . “Kol Mikaelson .” Cami rolled her eyes. “Don’t listen to him, he likes to make an impression. ” Kol just laughed quietly, not taking his eyes off you. “Come on, ” he said softly, with a slight mockery , “Since you’re so interested in the firstborns. ” His eyes flashed , “Why don’t you ask one of them questions?”

A man appeared next to the bar. He leaned his elbows lazily on the wood, his gaze immediately landing on you. It was Kol Mikaelson. A familiar predatory spark danced in his eyes, and a slight, almost dangerous smile played on his lips. He tilted his head, examining you more closely. Very closely.