Cella stepped off the bus and was immediately hit with the sorrow that seemed to permeate the city. She'd been told New Orleans was a place of magic and harmony, one of jazz and music and happiness. There were people about, yes, and jazz did fill the air, but nothing could drive away the overwhelming sense of loss and dread that settled like a cloak over the city. As she moved through the streets towards the fabled French Quarter, she resisted the urge to call on the elements to save her from the oppressiveness of it all. There were several places in the Quarter she wanted to visit, but none so important as the compound she strode towards now. She'd never met the inhabitants personally, but she knew of them: The Originals, first of their kind. She'd waited ages to meet them, and this was finally her chance. As she approached the gates, she realized she had found a source of the bad temperament about the town.
"Who are you?" Cella turned in surprise, meeting the gaze of a young blonde woman. She gave her best smile, though the woman didn't return the sentiment.
"I'm Viticella." She offered a hand, and the woman shook it warily. It was clear she was just a human, but that didn't mean she couldn't help. "Most just call me Cella. And you are?"
"Cami. Nice to meet you, Cella." While some of the wariness had faded, she wasn't entirely trusting, and all things considered Cella couldn't blame her.
"Lovely to meet you, Cami. Do you think you could help me?" Cella stuck her hands in her sweater pockets. "I'm looking for some people. The Mikaelson family." Cami tensed, and Cella knew she'd found the right person. "Please, our families have been friends for centuries. I can tell that something awful has happened here. I wish to give my condolences." Cami seemed to waver for a bit, clearly thinking over the options before sighing.
"Well, you came to the right place, but I doubt they'll want to see either of us." Cami moved past Cella, opening a gate and striding through. Cella was quick to follow, looking around in interest. There were flickers of movement as Cami called for one of them, moving up the stairs and leaving Cella in the courtyard near the door. Either they hadn't noticed her yet, or they were ignoring her, as she heard a male voice dismissing Cami. Soon enough, the blonde came marching back down the stairs, brushing past her and disappearing back out the doors. There was silence as Cella wandered a bit further into the courtyard.
"And who might you be?" Without warning, a tall man in a suit was standing not far from her, and though his words were polite, there was no mistaking his threatening posture. There was a power that radiated from him, raw and vicious, and she knew then she'd found who she'd been looking for.
"My name is Viticella. My friends call me Cella." She stepped forward and offered a hand, and though he took it politely there was a slight hesitation that gave him away. "I apologize for intruding, but I came to give my condolences, as well as my family's." He seemed taken aback by her words, even as she gently placed her other hand over their joined ones. "I don't know what exactly it is you are mourning, but I wish to tell you that I will help in whatever way I can."
"Well, Viticella, I'm not sure what help you could be to us at this moment." He turned to go, pulling from her hands.
"Let's not be hasty." A rough voice from the second level drew her eye. Another brother, she assumed, though a good portion of him was obscured by shadow. She gave a dip of her head. "We don't even know who her family is or what they have to offer." She could feel both sets of eyes on her now, and she couldn't help but tuck a strand of midnight blue hair behind her ear.
"There are very few of my family left. We're witches, you see, and-" She was cut off as she practically flew backwards, finding herself pinned by her throat by a fairly angry looking woman.
"You have quite the audacity, coming here after what your people did." The other brother was in her face now as well, and she worked to get air into her lungs to speak.
"Not…that…kind…" Cella found herself released, slumping to the ground as she gasped for air. Given what she knew of ancestral witches, she couldn't really blame them for their anger, but this was raw and visceral; too fresh to be caused by simple faction issues. "Whatever they've done to you has nothing to do with my family. You should know, you've been dealing with them for centuries."
"What are you talking about?" A hand was offered, and she took it gratefully, adjusting her clothes.
"Elemental magic." She glanced between them, noting the brothers shared looks of recognition. As they looked between each other, she knew she'd found what she'd been looking for indeed.
