Men were always in a constant state of war, Rebekah had long decided, and the ones of the magic world were no different. Though she had been indisposed, locked in a coffin with a stake in her heart, she had heard about the Wizarding War that took place in the midst of the twentieth century. Tied to magic, through their mother's side, the Original siblings had long been tied with the world of magic and, apparently, that meant that they were thought to owe something to the world when it came to war time. During the last war Klaus had been contacted by both sides and had quickly turned away both - or at least, as far as Rebekah knew he had.
Her own hearing of the even had only come after travelling to London and running into a witch there whom was the descendant of another that Bekah had known decades back. Recalling the vents of her trip to her brothers once she had returned to their home she mentioned the war, and her surprise to the little effect it had on this side of the world Klaus had mentioned them trying to get his help, with a small shrug.
"Shame, really, that they hadn't just all killed each other," his smirk large as he took in the possibility, but he never expanded much more on the topic.
And, like many things that had happened during her time in the wooden box, she put it to the back of her mind and it was long forgotten.
War, after all, was the folly of man and Rebekah Mikaelson was no man.
So when a night walker, whose loyalty was once pledged to Marcel and had, in the shift of power, pledged it to Niklaus bothered their somewhat awkward family dinner the last thing on Rebekah's mind was the magic world or any of it's war.
"Send them away, Nik, we were just starting to be a family again," her voice called out after her brothers, who had both stood and were walking away, though it dripped with a tone of sarcasm.
Yet, after a few moments her curiosity was peaked when Niklaus nor Elijah had returned. At first it was satisfied by just the use of her hearing, listening to the hustle and the voices. When she heard the word magic, however, coming from a thick British accent she stood from the table and made her way to the living room . Icy hues took in the room, and the tension in it was clear.
As well was the terror on the thin, pale boy's face. Whether he knew it or not.
"Now, now, boys no need to frighten the lad," she cooed, coming to stand near them and cross her arms over her chest. "It's not often we get a British wizard in our midst, after all."
