[network] @klausmikaelson; DAY 026: NIGHT [open] [warning: hallucinations, blood, self-injury]

[poppycock]

[ he has no intention of dying here again, lost in the cold, every inch of him freezing in submission to this perpetual winter. klaus has not lived for over a thousand years to be bested by whatever has taken him from his home, from his daughter, and stranded him in this nightmare.

he will not relent nor fold, out of the necessity to slaughter his captives, out of necessity to keep himself whole; to keep the one other person he cares about here whole.

if that means he will go mad staying inside this night, caught in a storm the likes of which he hasn't seen in centuries, then so be it. the hallucinations are off-putting, but certainly manageable, and during the day he has the wherewithal to understand that. he experienced over fifty-two years of hallucinations and torture once, courtesy of the fledgling hunters he massacred, and so he will persevere through whatever this place has to deal until he can leave this room, intact.

so he can leave, find cami, and be done with this.

that is until he sees the walls morphing into the mangled wooden crib of his daughter's, constantly at the corner of his eye. the movement of her settled and trapped in it beckons him, but the walls are moving and swallowing her up whenever he turns his head. until he sees the blood dripping from the boards and wallpaper where it eats her up. visions of his treacherous family come next, telling him of their hatred, their disgust and disappointment and abandonment of him; family who should be dead and gone, and others that should have left him long ago. until he hears the screams of his baby girl, the plaintive, frightened cries echoing through the small, desolate home in which he is cooped up.

that beam of light, the increased paranoia, the starvation and dehydration and cold, making him human and helpless -- these are all inconveniences he can weather.

this, however.

he has punched, pried, and torn up a good portion of the walls and bookcase after the first several hours, trapped as he is during the night. he has thrown furniture and attempted to break the windows. if he meant to try to find the disembodied source, leave, or simply to quell and distract himself with the violence and agony, it's hard to tell. his hands are bloodied, knuckles sheared, staining the screen of his tablet as he broadcasts the video.

his face is smeared with red that is nearly black in the shadows. he is on his hands and knees. the ceiling, his tense, shaking shoulders and bowed head fill the screen. his eyes burn with tears and rage, directed off to the side. if he were in any right mind, klaus wouldn't broadcast this at all.

his voice is angry and promising, though strained and thick with tears, and his chest heaves. ]

I will find you, and I will kill you. [ he's lowered his head by the last, weighted down as if too heavy to keep up. the fear and uncertainty entering in his eyes is unmistakeable, for he has little power to protect himself or anyone. ] I swear I will kill all of you.

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[poppycock]

[ he knows that voice. he hasn't heard it for quite some time, the past few days aside. the younger gilbert, the hunter, and just the man he's been purposefully neglecting to acknowledge in service of a greater goal. it takes a disjointed moment, since he's currently watching the wall move, but klaus slides his bleary, hard gaze to the tablet's screen.

there's nothing welcoming about it, despite the the smile creeping over his moving lips. ] Ah, Jeremy. What a lovely surprise.

[restituted]

I kind of hate to state the obvious but you don't look so great.

[ There's not any hint of mocking behind his words. Because despite not knowing that Klaus is the instrument of his own pain, it's frankly terrifying to consider the fact that their captors apparently have enough power to not only bring the dead back to life but also to effectively neutralize someone so terribly powerful himself... ]

[poppycock]

[ how very sympathetic of him. klaus sits back on his heels slowly, reaches for the tablet with a bloody hand. did he just send a missive? probably shouldn't have done that. what was that just now skirting on the edge of his vision? had he imagined that? is he imagining this? well; who knows. exhaustion lines his features, bears them down. never mind. he supposes this introduction is as good as any. ] Truth be told, I don't feel so great.

[restituted]

[ Jeremy has so many reasons to hate Klaus (one of them is right here in Norfinbury). But better the devil you know than the devil you don't, or so the saying goes. At any rate, the fight to survive is going to be hard enough here without needing to also constantly look over his shoulder for this guy. He'll be cordial if it could mean the difference between life and death for him or anyone he cares about. ]

How long have you been inside like that?

[ He thinks he's heard about this -- a kind of literal cabin fever. But it would be helpful to have a better idea about how long it takes to set in. ]

[poppycock]

[ well perhaps then this will serve as a lesson to young jeremy: keep your enemies happy with obedience and no harm will come to pass. impressing upon the hunter the importance of getting along for the greater good (and his and jenna's general safety) had been in his plans, troubled only by his lack of physical prowess to enforce such threats. but there are other ways, of course. it's a thought that flits through his mind, sharp and lucid, despite his surroundings. this isn't exactly how he had been imagining their eventual meeting, of course, but it was to be eventual. ]

Oh, about a day. I'm certain it usually takes longer; I've lingered in one place before. [ his eyes find the screen and he smiles. ]