A/N: Okay, so, first off: THANK YOU! We posted only one chapter, and we've received one review (thanks Savily!), four favorites, and six follows! That's freaking AWESOME and it's all thanks to you fantastic readers! You guys are the most spectacular awesome sauce . . . okay, we're done.

'Kay, so our lovely review asked how we picture Amy and Jessica, and though we answered in a PM, we figured we'd mention it here for everyone to know. Amy we sort of picture as a shoulder-length hair, teenage version of Eliza Taylor (Clarke from "The 100"). She also has magenta hair streaks.

Update: Before, we mentioned that we pictured Jessie like Hayden Panettiere from "Heroes," but upon watching a bit of "Secret Circle," we found that we picture Jessie almost exactly like a younger version of Cassie (played by Britt Robertson), except with the electric blue hair streaks and other accessories, etc.

This chappy is in Jessie's perspective after they arrive in New Orleans, and though no Mikaelsons are in this chapter, they're going to meet them very soon. And next chapter, we have a section in Klaus's perspective. Well, that's all we have to say, so please read, review, and enjoy! Thanks so much! :D

Disclaimer: We aren't Julie Plec, and we do not own the Originals. No Klaus for us. :( However, we do own Amy, Jessica, and Leon, as well as any other OCs we create later on.

Chapter 2: Party in Our Blood

The sweet, calming sounds of bluesy jazz filled my ears as I stepped out of the cab into the cool New Orleans breeze. The streets buzzed with people, many lingering and loitering, and street performers were making their livings off the awe and utter fascination of tourists.

"Hey, dreamy eyes, get your bags and let's go. Cabbie driver wants to leave and we have to find a motel and call Leon to update him," Amy reminded, smacking me on the back of my head to get my attention. Since the cops were after us, we ditched our old cell phones and were in dire need of a payphone.

Rubbing ruefully at my head, I muttered under my breath, "You don't have to be a bitch about it," and all Amy did was snicker. Grabbing my bag and instrument cases and following her down the road, I asked, "Why are you in such a hurry? We just got here and skirted the cops. They have no idea where we are. Chiiiiiiilllaaax, already, will ya? I wanna check out all the musicians."

Amy sighed, frustrated, but did nothing to slow her pace. "The way I see it, the fast he gets here and sets us up with another job, the faster we will have money to enjoy life. Until then, we're screwed," she explained. Her logic made sense, but she wasn't usually so tense.

"Hey, you all right?" I questioned cautiously, beginning to worry even more than before. Yeah, I was naturally more light-hearted than her, but she typically wasn't this serious.

Her shoulders visibly lowered, the muscles loosening up. Nudging me in the side, she clarified, "Yeah, just a little frazzled. Once I have a shot of tequila and someplace to sleep I will be content."

I grinned back and twirled around the front of her, stopping her in her tracks. "I think you're forgetting a part of that equation."

Amy arched an eyebrow. "And what might that be?"

I smirked and winked as cheekily as I was physically capable of. "A sexy man to keep you warm at night."

Amy laughed out loud, a full, body-encompassing laugh and we picked up our stroll once again. I continued, "If I were honest with myself I would admit that I myself participate in that last scenario. Oh, how I do love my sexy men. I can't get enough of them. Sure, they may come and go and replace themselves but the sexiness is forever." I smiled a wicked grin.

"You are a hoe, my dear sister," she joked, making a sharp turn after seeing a motel sign. "A fifteen-year-old hoe."

I feigned a gasp and childishly stomped my foot as she walked by me. Comebacks were one of my specialities and one was just sizzling on the tip of my tongue like a tangy, spicy flavor so I just had to share with her, "Sister, I don't think you can exactly talk, because it takes one to know one!"

I had her trapped and we both knew it. She brushed off the insult like it was a piece of lint and retorted, "I won't deny it. It's fun, and a nice workout. Don't doctors recommend you get a half hour or more of exercise a day?" She paused and mimicked a facade of thoughtfulness. "You know what? I may need to step up my game because perhaps every other day just isn't cutting it. I need to stay in shape."

"My goodness, what the hell am I going to do with you?" I scolded mockingly, pushing her into the rotating doors to the nearest motel. "Never give you a gym membership, that's for sure. Don't need you to abuse that with those hot, sweaty guys that are only there to innocently lift weights . . . until one of us shows up."

"Face it, we're just undeniable," she teased, then dropped the subject. Walking up to the main desk, my sister plastered a surprisingly real-looking smile onto her face. She was pretending to be interested, innocent, and friendly in one joyful package deal- something I could never pull off. Most people annoyed me too much to bother.

Amy was definitely more the sociable people person, where I preferred to work behind the scenes and sneak around and commit the actual crime (although Amy drugging people and the like was no small feat). I gravitated to the thrill of potential capture and danger looming over me, rather than having to deal with people. Perhaps it was my extremely limited patience that had something to do with it. Although, once a considerable amount of alcohol was in my system, I did become more and more outgoing. . . .

Stepping up behind her, I caught her order, "I would like a room with two separate beds."

The middle-aged woman with narrow spectacles eyed us carefully. "Are your parents around or are you two above eighteen?"

I rolled my eyes at the woman's skepticism. People tended to question us more than I would have liked about our age but usually my sister could talk her way out of situations pretty well. "Oh here we go again, the interrogation routine. Clerk lady should go to police academy," I mumbled low enough for it to be unclear whether the lady heard me or not. If she did, she didn't comment.

Amy elbowed me sharply in the ribs and I pouted, but shut my mouth. Yeah, maybe that's why she was the one to deal with people. . . .

A frown was tugging on my sister's mouth but she still remained mostly impassive and indifferent to the woman's questioning, unlike me. "Well, you see, our parents got caught in a jam and we got separated so we are camping out here until they can come get us so we can move forward with our plans. We are here to tour the city, learn some of the history, and overall get a feel for such a lively environment, but unfortunately, they aren't here to share it with us at the moment."

M sister lied with ease like I, and it paid off. The women turned from her cold persona and took on a caring smile. "Well, I am so sorry you two got separated from your parents. We will take good care of you two."

The woman proceeded to hurry over to her computer and type in the required stats for the room. She returned with a little envelope entitled with our room number.

"All right, here is your key. I assumed since you don't have a check out date we will bill you by the night and you will pay when your parents arrive. Is that okay?"

"That would be brilliant." Thank you so much for helping us, today has been rough and good people like you always seem to make the days brighter," Amy gushed, tucking her hair behind her ears in a purposefully angelic gesture. She grinned her most winning smile. I was about ready to puke all over the front table due to her incessant sweetness, but I managed to swallow any approaching bile.

The woman smiled brightly back, seemingly taken aback by my twin's utter politeness and courtesy. "Oh, bless your heart. You're ever so welcome, dear. No, head to the left and there is a stairway and your door is about halfway down the corridor. You two have a great stay here."

We both nodded and said our thanks as we walked away towards our temporary living quarters. I looked over to my sister who was trudging her way up the stairs a little ahead of me.

"Aren't you quite the sweet little heavenly bell," I taunted, following her up the nicely carpeted stairway. "Why, you activated my gag reflex!"

"It doesn't hurt to occasionally be nice," she tossed over her shoulder. "You'll find that it's easier to get your way if you are."

I deadpanned, allowing the never-ending sarcasm coursing through my veins instead of blood to rear its beautiful head, "I'll keep that in mind the next time we're mugged by wannabe bloody gangbangers. I'll bat my eyelashes and sing to all the pretty, chirping birds invariably fluttering around my golden halo and then the muggers, enchanted by bountiful elegance and grace, will leave us be with a tip of their hats. That'll happen, right?"

Amy took a moment to absorb all that then cast me a half-hearted glare. "Oh shut up. You're impossible."

"Why thank you." Giggling madly, I raced ahead of her and snatched the key right out of her hand.

Once I found the correct room number and wiggled the key around in the lock, I threw open the door and launched myself onto the closest bed. The room wasn't terrible. It had simple white walls adorned with pictures of the Mardi Gras and different scenes from around the French Quarter. The two queen beds were separated by a bed side table and to the side of the entry door was a standard bathroom.

After assessing our temporary home, Amy tentatively entered as if expecting the ceiling to cave in. She was being overdramatic, the room wasn't bad at all.

"So, sister of mine, what next?" I asked, folding my arms back behind my head and stretching out.

She pondered it over. "Well, we'll first call Leon and see if he got out on bail or not and set up a time and a place to meet up when he is in the all clear. Depending on what he says, after that we will probably head to the main center and get some new clothes and supplies to make up for what we left behind. That all right with you?"

"As long as we get food along the way, I'm down." It was about five o'clock this evening in New Orleans and we hadn't eaten since much since the train left the morning before, except some shoddy train before. That was a huge, ginormous issue to me- it was a monstrous dilemma. Food was something I hated to go without because it reminded me of the days where it was much harder for us to obtain.

Amy agreed passionately, "Yeah, I'm starving. Can you call him? I'm gonna go wash my face and change really quick."

"Will do. You stink so you better hurry. We don't need you making the place reek with your after sex sweat still on you." To thank me, she flipped me off before walking into the bathroom to clean up.

"Hey, I'm not the only one who-"

"I was in a shower," I cut her off smugly, "it's self-cleaning." She was bested so she quieted down. I grabbed the phone off the bedside table and dialed in Leon's cell phone number.

He picked up on the first ring. "About fucking time, Jess. Why didn't you answer your goddamn phone earlier? Huh? What the hell is wrong with you?"

Amy usually took the harsh words from him but I was in no mood to respond amicably. "Dammit, Leon, contrary to popular belief, you don't have to be such a bloody wanker. Didn't your mother tell you that's not the way to treat girls? Apparently not, because you are such a prick sometimes. Sod off."

I regretted it the moment the words tumbled from my mouth because Leon didn't take kindly to such disrespect. He spat furiously, "Fuck you, you worthless bitch. I've told you and your sister time and time again to never speak to me like that, but you're so fucking stupid that you just seem to forget my warnings, don't you? You're damn lucky I'm not there to give you a message you'd remember. Remember for a long time. You're already a whore, but without me you'd be living on the streets like before, pickpocketing and starving and being a fucking waste of space. You would probably be selling your slutty body to men for a buck or two, which is hardly a step up from now. Do you really want to test me? Because without me, you'd be nothing."

His words were like individual knives, carving their own unique, excruciating holes into my heart. Before I knew what was happening, big fat tears rolled down my cheeks and I tried with everything in me to stifle my sobs so he couldn't hear. He took my feelings and stomped on them, crushing them beneath the soles of his shoes like a piece of forgotten gum. "I'm s-sorry, Leon. I-I didn't mean it. Please don't b-be mad at me."

I could almost feel him softening through the phone. "Hey, baby, you know I didn't mean the stuff I said. You and your sister just make me real angry sometimes. You know how much work I put into the two of you, with our business and all. I saved you both, you owe me your lives. Jess, you know how much I love you. You've been one of my best friends for so long. And you need me, I need you. You know how it is."

I dutifully wiped away my tears and forced a smile, even though he wasn't around to see it. "Yeah, Leon, I know. Um, I, uh . . . Anyway, did you get off on bail or something?" Maintaining a normal conversation after what he'd just said to me was extremely difficult, but necessary.

"Wasn't even arrested," he proudly stated. "Long story, but I seem to be off the hook. You don't have to worry about me, baby. You and your sister left New York, right?"

"Yeah, we left the state," I informed him, still rattled.

"There's a good girl," he praised and I cringed. So easily could he flip a switch from pleasant to raging and back again.

"Where are you guys?" he questioned, scrambling on his end to presumably look for something to write down the address.

I took a small amount of pleasure in saying, "I don't know the exact address. We ended up in New Orleans at some cheap motel somewhere in the French Quarter. It's called Scarlet House."

"Okay, cool, I will to you girls as fast as I possibly can. I have some important business to take care of, but after that, I'm gone. Don't worry, I'll keep you safe. Until then, do what you can do rack up some cash. Can I talk to your sister?" Amy was one to never talk back to him, so he always found it easier to talk to her. I would have gladly passed over the phone, but unfortunately, she wasn't available.

"She is in the shower, can it wait?" I wanted him to hang up already so I could check out the town. The music was so inviting.

"I guess." He sounded disappointed but I couldn't give two craps. Hang up, hang up, hang up, dammit. "Just tell her I love her and to stay strong. You can avoid the cops if you stay together and don't cause any trouble. You get me?"

"I know the drill. This is only the the third time we have been caught," I groaned, getting slightly annoyed with his incessant ability of not being able to trust us alone. He wanted us to rely on him entirely.

"Don't sass me, child. Now, keep quiet 'till I get there. I don't want to hear when I get there about trouble you've been causing. Remember to take your ADHD pills." There he was again, concerned about my well-being. Without waiting for my response, he hung up the phone. His abrupt endings could be rude at times but weren't anything if not normal. Leon did what he wanted even if it meant he had to be rough.

At least he reminded me to take my pills- I dug through my duffel bag and popped the necessary medication into my mouth. I was running out, I needed to stock up. If I didn't take them, then I bounced off the freaking walls.

Stopping my mind from going down that dark path, my sister walked out from the bathroom in a towel. Looking more relaxed than before, she asked, "Did you talk to Leon?"

"Yes, I did. He is going to make arrangements to get down as soon as he can and get us out of this shit-hole of a motel," I said, finally taking some pressure off my shoulders.

Amy began to fish through her duffel bag. "Hey, we should probably dress up a bit. I mean we are in New Orleans, so we might as well look flashy."

Amy quickly removed her towel and put on a crop top with a strapless black heart neckline that cut off at the waist and clung snugly to her skin. After a break of skin revealing her midriff, she had a peach pink skirt that fell just long enough to cover her butt. It was tight as could be, but she looked good in it. She accessorized with her favorite necklace that had a black music note on top of piano keys, earrings, and some rings. She finished by putting on her black wedges and an ankle bracelet.

As she turned for me to see I noticed that her tattoo was showing. It rested off to one side of her back and just below her bra strap. In simple cursive lettering it wrote, "Not all those who wander are lost." J.R.R. Tolkien was a master. Her tattoos all meant something to her as mine meant something to me. We never just got something because it was cool or pretty. They were what we lived by.

Returning to my own thoughts, excitement raced through my veins and I rolled off the bed to dive into my own duffel bag. "I bet this place's nightlife is fantastic!" Leon, at some point in time, supplied us with a variety of party-style clothes as a reward for good behavior. "The best ones are probably twenty-one and up, though."

She flashed me a mischievous grin after applying some heavy makeup in the bathroom. Her eyes were vibrantly smokey, consisting of blacks and some pinks to lighten up her features. It definitely drew attention, especially with her purple-ish red lipstick. "Then we'll have to look twenty-one and up, won't we?"

It was go big or go home. I donned a complete makeover on myself to fully assimilate the "night look." I wore an electric blue dress with a slightly flared skirt falling to slightly above my mid-thigh. The vivid color matched the streaks in my hair. It had a reasonably low-reaching V-neck, spaghetti straps, and no back.

See, this is how it was. Like my sister had two tattoos, so did I. One day, when we were feeling particularly brave, we stalked with our heads held high into a tattoo parlor (with Leon, our guardian's permission) and each walked out with two tattoos. I had a quote resting right between my shoulder blades, spelling out the quote, "Fate loves the fearless" in fancy, but bold print with tendrils of ink that floated around on my neck and shoulders.

It was essentially my life motto. If there was nothing left of me, and I was merely a shell, my courage would be what I valued most. If I had that taken away from me, I would be nothing.

Our other tattoos were on insides of our right wrists, hers reading "One in the same" and mine spelling out "Two of a kind." It represented us well; we were two separate people, but we were permanently bonded to each other and were each other's other halves. So, we were two, but also one.

Anyway, jubilant at even the mere thought of partying and having a good time, I could hardly a suppress a squeal as skipped like a small child into the bathroom. After several layers of mascara, eyeliner, blue eyeshadow, and pale pink lipstick, I tied up my hair into a loose, but controlled bun. This put my very . . . decorated ears on display. I had a ton of earrings and even I knew it.

Here's a nifty little list of 'em. Two on each lobe, three cartilage piercings on my right ear with a chain running between, and one cartilage and an industrial piercing on my left side. Pain for cosmetics was no stranger to me.

After stepping into a pair of white stilettos (seriously, thank you, Leon's money), I was ready. Now, this may cause a question to arise. Why in the love of God did we have party clothes in our emergency duffel bags? Answer: we were addicted to partying and it was nearly a necessity for us. Partying was our lifeblood. And it was hella fun.

"Let's hit the town!" I let off a little war cry and we were in such a hurry to have a good time, our crappy motel was left in a murky cloud of dust.

The streets of the French Quarter were even more spectacular at night. Lights shone ever so brightly, the music enchanted us, even the stars themselves seemed prettier than usual. A gaggle of women clad in club attire caught my attention and I hurried over to them. "Excuse me, but do you know of any good parties around here? I'm not just talking any regular party, I'm looking for the best of the best."

They seemed annoyed that I was bothering them, like I did it out of malice, but one who looked to have hardly more than a single brain cell eventually reply, "Uh, yeah. We're heading there right now! Duh."

Before I could fire off a quip of some sort, Amy warningly clamped her hand down on my shoulder and asked instead, "And where, pray tell, you might be going?"

The group of them exchanged looks of amusement, and I found it all rather patronizing, so I just cut to the chase with, "Look, are you going to tell us or not? If not, just tell us now so we don't waste anymore of each others' time."

That wiped the smirks off their faces. "You guys must not be from around here with those english accents because anyone who lives in the French Quarter knows," one of them scoffed. When I just waited expectantly, she finished, "Well then, fine. We're going to the Mikaelsons', of course!"