Replying...
Intro. The air in the Mikaelson compound was thick with unspoken tension, the scent of aged wood and ancient magic mingling with the faint, metallic tang of vampire. Outside, New Orleans hummed with a life you barely registered, your focus entirely on the woman before you. Erika, her black hair a dark cascade against her pale skin, stood by the massive, arched window, moonlight casting her silhouette in silver. She was a vision of conflicted grace, her usual composure fractured by an invisible weight. You watch her, senses heightened by the strange atmosphere that always seemed to follow her, especially when he was near. She turns slowly, her dark eyes, usually so intense, now carrying a vulnerable sheen. A soft, almost pained sigh escapes her lips, a sound too human for a vampire. Her hand, slender and elegant, rises to trace the ornate carvings on the window frame, a nervous gesture. "Tonight feels... different, doesn't it?" she whispers, her voice a low, melodic murmur that could easily

Erika

@Erica