Deck the Falls || A Klaroline Christmas {part 1}
Outside it was becoming a thick, winter wonderland, as snow fell from the heavens in perfect, fluffy clumps, but Caroline didn’t have the time to notice, currently frantic over achieving her newest project, hosting the ultimate Christmas.
Everything just had to be perfect.
Regardless of her stance on whether they held the status of an official item or not, {or even whether she actually liked him for that matter} Caroline had taken it upon herself to see this holiday come out as one for the Mikaelson record books. Reverting back to her neurotically obsessive self in her steadfast conviction to pull these Yule-time celebrations off immaculately...
Well it was either that or drive everyone suicidally mad in the process.
Or so claimed Kol, who certainly hadn’t been shy about letting his opinions be heard; incessantly making degrading comments in regards to her Nazi-like reign of {as he’d bah humbug-inly dubbed it} the holiday fucking cheer parade, from where he arrogantly sat on that damned leather couch, as though entertained by her struggles.
Thank god Bonnie held the power to shut him up – Caroline just wished she’d chosen to attain that goal by lieu of magically stitching those bloody lips together, but still, these thoughts officially marked the first time Caroline had been grateful of anything to do regarding Kol and her bestest best friend on the whole wide planet {who as it turns out, she just so happens to be quite possessive over.}
This attitude of course, only worked to subliminally suggest she held more in common with Klaus then Caroline was currently prepared to admit, and thus quite happily flew in the face of ultimate ignorance. Just as she remained blissfully unconcerned with the fact she technically was {willingly at that} bunkering down at the Mikaelson mansion, day in and even nights too, in order to achieve perfection.
Now if only his hybrids would listen!
“No! No! No! That’s still not right.” Caroline chides with an unimpressed cluck of the tongue, face scrunched in a further extension of this extreme distaste, the whole look further accentuated by the rapid tapping of her pen against the clipboard, both clutched with a white-knuckled intensity. “More to the left- No, ugh- Your other left.” This was hopeless. Utterly hopeless.
Couldn’t he find better help?
With a huff, Caroline abandoned the sire-bonded buffoons to seize on the next pair of worthless Christmas helpers, who were making an atrocity of the garland wrapped down the curved stairs. “Red!? Why are they red!? I said I wanted white. It’s classy, like a winter wonderland.” And didn’t remind her of blood, or so implied the frustrated undertones woven within her shrill timbre.
They didn’t even seem to listen to her, but continued to coil the wrong coloured lights into the garland before at last giving the flippant response that they were simply doing as they were told, as if trying to make her go away. Told!? “Oh and just who told you to do this?” Caroline spat, irked, but not so much as she was by the chipper answer that came not from the hybrids but Rebekah, who’d cockily appeared at the top of the stairs. “I did,” she claimed, all haughty and proud with her elbows pointing out from jutting hips and a cutting smirk to boot.
“I happen to live here, and last time I checked, you don't.” With an elevated eyebrow that seemed to taunt her status as the Bitchiest blonde on campus, Rebekah continued to challenge Caroline to contest this authority, egging her on with the sickliest sweet of smiles, of which {of course} was fake to the core.
Ugh! Raging with the desire to take the other blonde bombshell on, Caroline is forced to rely on her enormous level of control {and it did take all of it} to suppress that irrational desire to choke Rebekah, and keep her foot from childishly stamping at the injustice, redirecting instead that boiling anger into a simple, if sinister scowl.
Caroline knew, from her brief stint in Klaus’s body, {x} that strong as she liked to think herself, she desperately lacked the gum-shoe to take on an Original.
Which left only one alternative, and she found him in his drawing room. “Nik,” Caroline called out, her newest nickname for him expelled on a huff of breath as she appeared in the doorway, one shoulder reclined against the frame while addressing him with a proper pout. “They won't listen to me-” She’d meant to fall into a long tangent of complaints, and yet found herself distracted – mesmerized even – by the actions of his inner artist, caught off guard by how… at peace he looked.
Not to mention gorgeous, but she was conveniently ignoring that fact.
Clipboard clutched to chest, Caroline couldn’t help but fall victim to the curiosity that clipped away at the core of her frustrations. “What are you working on?”
However, his lover-in-denial was nothing if not the Queen of stubborn, and wouldn’t be so easily perturbed from her feverish mission of achieving the perfect holiday, and so naturally reverted back to the original objective, shaking off the throbbing fascination with a prominent eye-roll. “Don’t you have any reliable help?” She refused to call them minions – even if she was of a mind to boss them around, ever unabashed at being the ultimate hypocrite.
