◤ 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖞-𝖘𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓: ❛ dead man walking ❜ ◢

✧

          HER TEARS HAD DRIED LONG AGO, BUT THE STAIN STILL STAYED. Numbness crept inside her bones and held her prisoner as she took another swig of bourbon down her throat, the bitter taste at least giving her something to fill as she drowned herself in it. Something was always better than nothing.

She looked like a mess, and felt that way as well. Her hair hadn't been brushed and her clothes were still dirty from before, unable to take a moment to shower and change into something new. She probably smelt terrible as well, but she didn't care as she drowned another bottle. Marcel, though he looked like he was in a much better state, still felt the emotional weight she did.

He was cleaned up, but the look in his eyes was as numbing as herself. His tears had dried, but the stain was still there to faintly see. She wished she could say something to comfort him, that it would get better and soon the pain would go away, but how could she? She was living proof that the pain never seized, lingering forever until it became a dull ache of the past.

But vampires always felt more intensely. Everything amplified in their body, all their emotions heightened and increased unlike her own. She still had human emotional capabilities, and she couldn't feel the intense pain he did, at least not in the way that he did.

"I'm sorry about Davina," she said in a low voice, sipping again at the bottle.

"You didn't do anything. It was Klaus and the witches who took her," Marcel said in a biting tone, eyes flaring up for a moment in anger. Yeah, she knew that anger well.

There was another beat of silence and Marisol's eyes searched Marcel's body. "Did you want to be a vampire?" she asked him.

He looked startled by the question, surprised that she was taking this route of conversation. Then, slowly, he nodded. "I grew up with them. I didn't want to be a weak boy forever."

"I don't know any wolf who wanted to be a wolf. I mean, I certainly didn't want this. I hated what I was for a long time, so I tried to keep my nephew from making the same mistakes as me," she paused then to take another sip, "Magnus – he, he was supposed to stay a warlock. He wasn't supposed to be anything else."

"What happened to him?" Marcel asked cautiously and she looked into his eyes for a moment before taking in a breath and continuing.

"I betrayed the Mikaelson family. I – I ran away and that's unacceptable. Kol found us, some years later. He said he was giving me mercy but not killing me directly, and snapped Magnus' neck right in front of me. I pleaded for me to take me instead, but Kol didn't listen."

"I'm sorry."

Marisol tried to smile, but it looked terrible and she felt terrible for trying to say that it was alright. "The story doesn't end there. I, uh, I brought him back to my home village for my sister to say goodbye. I thought we could bury him with our family during the night, but she didn't like that. She always had a knack for curses. They were second nature to her, so of course, she revived Magnus then took a vial of vampire blood she had and forced it down his throat before killing him again.

"Then she got to me. I failed her by not protecting Magnus, so she cursed me. I didn't even blame her for it at the time. It was my fault, I'm the one who got Magnus killed because if I hadn't run, if I hadn't engaged with the Mikaelsons in the first place then Kol wouldn't have killed Magnus."

"It's not your fault that he died," Marcel told her.

This time, she could smile. "I know. And it's not your fault that Davina died. You did everything you could to save her, and-and she was ready. She was ready to die," she began to choke up in the end, because no teenager should be ready to die. No teenager should just accept their death and be slaughtered as a sacrificial lamb.

Marcel looked down. "Is Magnus still alive?"

She nodded. "He's traveling right now. Last time I talked to him he was in Spain, but I'm sure he's somewhere else in Europe now."

"Do the others know about him?"

"No. I'm scared to let Klaus now in case I piss him off again, and – well, it hasn't come up any other time," Marisol explained, "But it felt right to tell you."

Davina was so young, she was just a child. A teenager that witches wanted to sacrifice, a girl who had so much power that it was killing her, a girl who just wanted to be normal but couldn't.

Marcel nodded, looking around and then taking in Marisol's appearance. "You should probably shower."

She laughed a little, but nodded in agreement. She probably should. He stood up, clasping his hand on her shoulder in a gesture of thanks before leaving her. She stayed there for a moment alone before putting away the bottle of bourbon and heading to her room.

As the water washed over her, she shut her eyes. She could see Davina's body collapsing, the blood flooding from her neck, the final gasp of breath trying to cling onto life before it was taken from her. The silence as they waited, the tensions rising, the anticipation, only for nothing to happen. Only for her to stay dead on the ground with no revival in sight.

She washed the grim off her, scrubbing every inch of her body, trying to clean herself from the guilt. She tried to save Davina, and that was enough, even if it didn't feel like it.

Turning the water off, she left the shower, and dressed herself in new clothes. She looked better now, more put together in front of the mirror, though her eyes were a bit dull. Sunken in, cold, and lifeless. She sucked in a breath before leaving her room, turning the corner before finding Hayley there with an overwhelmingly guilty presence.

It reeked on her. The stench of it, the look of it, filling her pores and exuding from her. Marisol grimaced for a moment as Hayley walked closer to her. "I made a mistake," the pregnant werewolf admitted.

Marisol sighed, leaning against the railing and looking down at the ground floor below them. "So Elijah told me," she muttered, "Now, what made you think that digging up Celeste's bones was a good idea?"

Hayley's eyes flared alive. "Sophie promised me that she could undo the curse on the werewolves. I need to meet my family," she snapped, cooling down after and muttering, "Sorry. I know."

She ran her hand through her wet hair, shaking her head a little. "You keep talking about saving the wolves as if that's going to save you. Hayley, they aren't your saviors. Finding your family isn't going to fix you."

"But it will give me the chance to know who I truly am," Hayley argued.

"Your family doesn't give you your identity – you choose your identity," Marisol scoffed, "If you don't know who you are, finding them isn't going to magically give it to you."

"I at least have to try. Besides, they're – they're cursed. If you had the chance to undo your curse, wouldn't you take it?" Hayley implored, searching Marisol's eyes.

Would she? She certainly wasn't a fan of her curse, keeping her alive longer than she liked, causing her to leave her lives behind and those she cared about in them. She was in love once, with a human, and she spent a decade with him before he began to notice that wrinkles weren't forming, her body wasn't slowing down, and age wasn't affecting her body. They could've had a good life together – a long one – but her curse ruined that.

But if she wasn't cursed, she wouldn't still be here with Magnus. He would be alone, the final Bigora, with no one else from his past. No, she couldn't leave him alone. She couldn't leave him behind.

"No. It's a curse, but it's my curse," she said with an edge of finality, "You saw Celeste in Elijah's mind while he was sick. And you still did this."

"Because I thought it was the right thing to do – I still do."

"Well, at least you think that you're right," Marisol told her before walking away.

She felt a hole in her heart beginning to form over the argument, a bitterness sweeping inside her for fighting against Hayley who she vowed to protect and stand with. And she would, she would always protect Hayley, but that didn't mean she had to defend the woman's actions when she didn't agree with them.

Elijah loved Celeste, and Celeste had been taken from her resting place. Though the man hadn't said it, she knew that a deep pain settled inside him from Hayley's actions, and that made her ache even more.

✧

WITH THEIR NEWFOUND freedom, the witches had begun killing vampires again, as they used to before Marcel forced them to put an end to it. Klaus, trying to keep his empire in order, was in edge and making sure that everyone knew about it. Marisol agreed to stay at the Compound with Hayley just in case, and she watched in the courtyard as Elijah paced trying to contact Rebekah again.

"Rebekah is still not answering her calls," Elijah said with an edge of frustration, though she knew that worry was creeping in his voice as well, though he hid it.

Hayley looked to him. "You worried about whoever killed those daywalkers still being out there?"

"I'm sure Rebekah could take care of them herself if some small witches came after her," Marisol said, trying to spark confidence in the two. Rebekah was an Original who hadn't been killed; that took some survival skills.

"Frankly, I'm worried that she had something to do with this," Elijah confessed, "She's very displeased with Niklaus, perhaps even conspiring with others?"

Marisol sat up. "Do you really think that she would align herself with witches after Davina...? I mean, I don't know her as well you as do, but..."

She trailed off, watching as Elijah seemed to gain some newfound interest in Thierry who was drinking by himself at the dining table. The vampire who had once been imprisoned after killing another vampire, which was against Marcel's rules, was recently released under Klaus.

"Thierry, is it?" Elijah asked, though she was positive that he already knew that.

"That's right," the younger vampire nodded.

"My sister is rather fond of you. Strange, she's not typically drawn to unremarkable men," Marisol choked on her spit as Elijah continued, his lips quipping upwards for a second, "Would you care to explain your sudden magnetism?"

"I don't know what you're –"

Elijah silenced Thierry's attempt to throw the conversation by grabbing him by the throat and pushing him against the wall. "You can either tell me what you know, or I can distribute tiny pieces of you throughout the Quarter?"

Thierry sighed, motioning for Elijah to release him, which he did. "She asked me to keep an eye out on witch stuff. I found something, and when I showed her, we were jumped by some guy. He desiccated her with his touch."

Marisol blinked. "I didn't even know there was a spell for that," she muttered to herself, fidgeting a little at the idea. This wasn't some small time witch problem; this was the big guns. The thought make her increasingly uncomfortable and for once she was beginning to agree that maybe the witches needed to be kept in line.

No –

No, she couldn't think that. She was a witch once, and the oppression of not being able to use magic was not healthy; the system that Marcel ran and Klaus was trying to wasn't healthy for them. It wasn't okay.

"Like a coward, you left her," Elijah spat at Thierry after his confession.

"What was I supposed to do, fight some warlock that took out an Original?" Thierry flared with anger and Marisol shrugged a little because, yeah, that was a fair point. She didn't think she would be fair game for that either.

"Where was this, exactly?"

"The docks, warehouse 57. I was just doing what she asked. You cannot tell Klaus about this," Thierry pleaded.

Elijah looked at him for a moment before grabbing him again and snapping his neck, watching as his body fell to the ground. Marisol blinked. "Effective," she commented, standing up.

The Original shot her a look with a bit of a small, straightening himself out. "You two stay here."

Marisol hesitated, about to say something, but Hayley beat her to it. "I'm coming with you," she said, with a tone of finality.

"No," Elijah said immediately, "Stay here. The compound is safe."

"Rebekah is in trouble," Hayley urged him, "I'm going."

Elijah looked at Marisol and she sighed. "It's safer for you to stay here, Hayley. If this guy can desiccate an Original, what do you think he can do to you?"

"I don't care what he can do to me. Rebekah needs our help and I can't just sit around here doing nothing," the pregnant werewolf stared at them.

Marisol and Elijah shared another look, and eventually Elijah sighed, relenting first. "Do not leave either of our sights. Understand?"

Hayley nodded, proud of herself for convincing them, but a sort of dread settled in Marisol's gut. Elijah lead the way, and Marisol kept after him, Hayley right beside her. They rushed through New Orleans, getting to the dock in record time, and it was there that they saw the limp and grew form of the Original sister.

"Rebekah!" Elijah called out, going to reach for her body before stopping, unable to get close to her. Marisol went up with him, seeing the salt surrounding her, causing them to be unable to enter.

"Oh, what's happening?" Hayley asked, looking at the mark on Rebekah's forehead.

"Some kind of boundary spell. Someone is channeling her. Typically, it's a lethal process, but because she's an Original, she can't die. Instead, she's an endless source of magic," Elijah explained.

"So what are we supposed to do?"

"You have to get her out of there."

"Great. One thing: how are we supposed to get her out of here if we can't even get to her body?" Marisol asked, looking between them, "Seems like it's not as simple as you're making it out to be."

Elijah sighed, dialing Sophie since she was their only witch contact who wasn't pro-killing the Originals. He told her about the current predicament and she told him about the other bodies before she tried to figure out how to help them with Rebekah.

"You're not listening," Elijah sighed in frustration as he explained it to her again, "We cannot enter the circle. There's some kind of confinement spell...if I can't remove her, we can't break the link."

"It's a convoluted spell. It's like a witch's recipe. You can spoil the balance by adding a more potent ingredient. A mystical binding agent. I don't know, volcanic ash, rock salt...anything up to and including eye of newt," Sophie tried to tell him.

"What about the blood of a witch?" Elijah asked.

"Do you have the blood of a witch?" Sophie asked, mirroring the confusion that Marisol felt herself.

They all knew that she used to be a witch, but that wasn't the case anymore, and she was sure that her magical blood was gone after her werewolf gene came into play.

But Elijah turned to Hayley without answering Sophie. "I need a favor."

It seemed that Hayley was able to catch on before anyone else, nodding, "The baby. She's a quarter witch."

Marisol blinked. "Damn, that baby is a mess of every supernatural being out there, isn't she?"

Hayley held out her wrist, and Elijah gently took it, biting into it as Hayley winced and Marisol grimaced. She never liked seeing people feed, it felt too much like a private matter for her, especially when that person was Magnus.

After blood had been drawn, the walked to the edge of the circle and Elijah turned her wrist, allowing the blood to drop onto the salt and they watched as it began to fizzle and deteriorate. Quickly, her wrist began to heal from the blood of the baby, and Elijah walked into the circle to grab Rebekah.

Once her had her out, he hesitated, realizing that he wasn't going to be able to carry them all out of there. Marisol looked at the current situation as well and held out her arms. "Give me Rebekah. You take Hayley and get her back to the Compound."

"Marisol –" Elijah began to argue but she cut him off with a shake of her head.

"You can't get us all back there in one run. Hayley's pregnant which places her in a much vulnerable position. I can get Rebekah out of here while you run Hayley back and then you can Rebekah."

Out of the three, Hayley was of upmost importance, and then there was Rebekah who couldn't defend herself. She could wait it out for the minutes it took Elijah to speed Hayley there and back, and then he could get Rebekah. Out of the three, Marisol was the one who needed protection the least.

After another moment of hesitation, Elijah nodded, taking ahold of Hayley and as she blinked, they were gone. Marisol reached for Rebekah's grey body, throwing the Original's arm around her shoulder and lugging her up with a grunt.

She began to walk them out of the port when Elijah showed up again, taking his sister and then Marisol. In the next instance, they were back in the Compound and Marisol had to swallow down her quarreling stomach.

Marisol crossed her arms as she watched Elijah gently place Rebekah down onto a couch. "Do you know of anyone who could've done this?" she asked him.

He took a moment. "It reminds me of someone who has long since been deceased," then there was a pause, "I didn't like having to leave you and Rebekah behind, even if it was just for a moment."

"Hayley needed to get out of there first. She'd be vulnerable if someone came around and I can protect myself. It was either her or Rebekah first," Marisol sighed.

Elijah eyed her. "Do you really think you're so unimportant as to be left behind?"

Marisol shuffled. "I don't think I'm unimportant, I just know that I'm not as vulnerable as the two of them. I can't die, I'm not pregnant, and I'm not desiccated either. If one of us had to be left alone the longest, it would be me."

"Logically, perhaps," Elijah agreed.

Marisol laughed a little. "What else would be deciding with if not logic?"

She looked at him, a mirthful look in her eyes which didn't meet his own. There was something in his that made her stumble for a moment. He looked at her as if she meant everything in the world, like he couldn't leave her behind even if just for a moment, and her smile slowly faded.

"I don't think I could bare it if anyone were to hurt you," he whispered.

"I can handle it more than they could," she argued with him. She had been knocked down before and she could do it again. It wouldn't kill her and she would heal eventually.

He opened his mouth a little, as if he was about to say something more, but instead he shook his head and walked away. Marisol watched him leave, wanting to call after him, wanting him to explain himself, but the words couldn't leave her throat.

She didn't understand him. He was an enigma that confused her in the best and worst ways. He knocked the breath out of her just as he gave her a reason to breathe. A warm feeling settled in her stomach, one that she refused to ever name before out of fear, but she knew what it was now. She allowed herself to know what it was now.

He made her melt, and he made her feel safe. He made her die and feel alive. The little glances, the smiles, the way he looked at her and made her crazy. She knew it all too well.

It was different from before. He was more cordial back then, younger just as she was. She was brasher now, and he was blunter, yet still such a gentleman. They had grown in confidence, aged like fine wine, and still he drew her in.

It was different from before because it wasn't timid. It wasn't little hints here and there, it was more sure. He wanted her close, and she wanted to make him smile. It was better than before; it was stronger than before.

She swallowed, reveling in her admittance, before walking away herself. She poured herself a glass of wine and sipped at it, smiling at the thought of him and how he cared.

✧

ELIJAH WAS CORRECT about how the magic imitated that of an old foe who had met his end long ago, but the dead never seemed to be able to stay dead. Somehow, they always ended up crawling again on the streets they once used to walk while alive, and Papa Tunde was no exception.

Marisol crossed her arms, standing next to Hayley as Klaus gathered all the vampires under his command in the Compound.

"Not long ago, you all united against me. You failed. Since then, in my benevolence, I have wiped the slate clean. Yet, it seems clear you think that I am the one who needs to earn your respect, your loyalty. You're mistaken. It is you who must prove yourselves to me. Our community is under attack. I require soldiers. I need warriors, not cowards. Each of you has a decision to make. You either fight alongside me or you leave now."

There was an underlying bite, letting anyone know who left that they would receive no protection from Klaus and his army. They would be responsible for themselves, which was a vulnerable position in the current state of New Orleans.

Thierry, unsurprisingly, was the first to stand up and against Klaus. "We don't owe you anything. If staying in the Quarter means living under your rule, I'd just as soon get the hell out."

A few others stood up with him, and they walked out in a small group. Marisol raised an eyebrow at how many thought themselves invincible just because a normal snap of the neck didn't leave them dead forever. Oh, the hubris of man.

But once it was over, Klaus concluded his meeting, his message clear. They stood together, an army, against Papa Tunde and the other witches on his side. Marisol removed herself from Hayley, following Klaus to the study where they met with Marcel and Sophie.

"I got to admit, I thought you'd lose a lot more guys than that," Marcel said when he entered the room, closing the door behind himself.

"Well, good riddance to them, I saw. We've no room for slackers or cowards in our kingdom," Klaus said flippantly, "Now that you've regained your composure, let's move on to the next item of business, shall we, with a little help from our dear friend Sophie."

"I got no reason to help you, and I sure as hell don't have a reason to help him," Sophie scoffed.

"Now, now, don't be difficult, love. You'll only live as long as you're of use to me, and right now, your best use is to explain why a witch I killed has come back for revenge. Come on. Resurrected witches with vast power?"

"It's the Harvest," Sophie looked at them, "To die and be reborn. I don't know how, but someone jacked that power, and they used it to bring back four witches...just not the right ones."

"Lovely," Marisol commented, "Of course that resurrection power can just be given to anyone if someone fucks with the ceremony."

Marcel, however, looked hopeful with the news. "So there's still a chance? If we can get that power back, we can save Davina."

"Wait – four girls were sacrificed and killed. That means that four people had to be resurrected, who are the other three?" Marisol asked.

"Let's concentrate on the immediate problem, shall we?" Klaus deflected for the moment, "Papa Tunde wants revenge. He'll continue to attack us, channeling power from the vampires he sacrifices. He kills, he grows more dangerous. So how do I end him? He needs sacrifices to gain power?"

"You keep him from killing any nightwalkers, that's a start," Sophie suggested.

Klaus sucked in a breath. "Unless he finds the one place with a load of vampires ready to be sacrificed," he mentioned, locking eyes with Marcel whose eyes went wide with the realization.

"If you thought of that, the witches has definitely thought about it," Marisol said, laughing a little, "We're fucked!"

Klaus and Marcel didn't waste another moment, gone in the blink of an eye. Marisol laughed some more, because of course the crypt was where Pape Tunde went, and of course there were loads of defenseless vampires Marcel kept there. And of course there were three other witches out there who were probably just as vengeful and ready to kill the Mikaelsons as Papa Tunde.

Of course.

Marisol turned to Sophie, "I think it's time for me to try and get drunk. You in?"