Disclaimer: Not mine, etc. Title is from This Will Destroy You.
tracks of never-ending light
"What are you talking about?" Caroline whispers, her face turning paper-white. Klaus's fingers tighten on her elbow as he drags her behind him and more than a few winter-dodging tourists cast them curious glances. "Klaus—" She digs in her heels in a last-ditch ploy to make him stop, but then just trips over a bump in the sidewalk, grabbing at him with her other hand to steady herself. Story of her damn life.
"Patience is a virtue, love," he says airily, and just like that, all of his earlier fury is gone. She blinks, her head spinning a little as she snatches her free hand back.
"You're insane," she says slowly, pushing her hair off of her face in annoyance. "Actually, certifiably, stick-a-fork-in-you cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs."
He ignores her insult as he pulls her down the street back to the voodoo queen's house. "And you are needed here," he returns easily, his hand at the small of her back pushing her through the doorway. As though that settles it.
The old woman pauses in her ministrations over a large bowl and peers up at them, looking entirely unsurprised at Caroline's reappearance. Large brown eyes, unaffected by age and time, meet her own and Caroline blinks first.
She pulls her arm out of Klaus's grip and, rebellion pounding in her blood, goes to sit cross-legged on the floor, her back leaning against the wall. She watches with feigned disinterest as Rebekah hands Klaus a crumbling book. "So what's the plan?" Caroline muses mockingly from her corner. "Stick pins in a Bonnie doll?"
Rebekah snorts. "So ignorant, Caroline. You would make a terrible voodoo priestess." The old woman is silent, ignoring them all. It's more than a little creepy.
Caroline rolls her eyes at Rebekah; it's not her fault that her knowledge of voodoo comes entirely from The Skeleton Key. "Well, damn," she says, voice catching slightly as the old woman pulls out what looks to be human hair, adding it to the bowl on the altar. "There goes my life's ambition." Klaus smirks. Despite herself, Caroline asks with morbid curiosity, "What exactly is it that you're trying to do here?"
The look Klaus exchanges with Rebekah sends a flutter of anxiety down Caroline's nerves. "Go on then, Nik," Rebekah says with far too much casualness, as she mixes hair, blood, and ash. "Tell her."
Well if that doesn't send red flags flying up all over the place. Caroline's widening eyes flash to Klaus's, her eyebrows crawling near her hairline. He looks vaguely uncomfortable which has actual air-raid sirens going off in her head.
"Who made your ring, Caroline?" he says instead of answering. She bites her lip but releases it immediately when she sees how his eyes follow the movement.
"Bon—" she cuts herself off and springs to her feet, eyes narrowing. Her back touches the wall and she moves so that she's a hair's breadth from the door. "Don't you fucking dare."
"Don't be so dramatic," Rebekah scolds lightly and Caroline inches further away from them. Klaus has moved from his spot next to Rebekah and is slowly rounding on her; Caroline feels like she's being stalked like a gazelle. Her eyes dart pleadingly to where the voodoo priestess is now silently watching them, her face an enigma.
"Your friend Bonnie was essential to getting the cure," Klaus says with infuriating patience as he corners her. Caroline does not—will not—shrink backwards. "Unfortunately, as you so astutely pointed out, she's dead." He presses in closer and she is so damn sick of feeling trapped by him. "We need to find her descendants."
The doorknob digs into Caroline's back and her hand disappears behind her, trembling fingers gripping it tightly. "And as we currently have no access to Bennett blood…" Klaus trails off, but Caroline puts it together. Bennett magic to replace Bennett blood.
So softly that even Rebekah can't hear her, Caroline whispers, "Klaus, don't…I—please." Her eyes pleadingly search his. Please don't take the sun from me. "I'll never forgive you," she threatens, voice cracking over the word never. There are tears beginning to well in her eyes, her fingers curling in on themselves in protest.
Something like softness flashes in his eyes but it doesn't last and he pulls her hand out from behind her back. Her fingers clench harder in their fist, nails piercing the palm of her hand. An actual tear escapes the corner of her eye as Klaus leans his head over her clenched hand and places a single, almost reverent kiss on her knuckles.
It's the last straw.
She jams her captive fist upwards, catching him right in the nose and completely off guard, the sick sound of shattering cartilage sending a thrill of satisfaction coursing through her bloodstream. "Go to hell," she hisses as his hand comes up to grip his face.
Rebekah laughs from her spot next to the altar, eyes glittering with approval. "Oh bravo, Caroline," she says delightedly, while the voodoo priestess continues to eerily stare at them all. "Do consider that to be from me as well, brother."
Klaus's head snaps up and he shoves her forcefully backwards, the door cracking where her back hits. Blood drips from his already-healing nose and Caroline feels a flicker of pride in her left hook. His thumb brushes the drying tear stain and he says lowly, "I'll get you another." It's a dark promise—after all, nothing with Klaus ever comes free of strings.
"Don't do me any favors," she bites off, eyes burning as she watches him pry her fingers open. He slides the ring off of her index finger and instantly it's as though some essential part of her goes with it.
With one last lingering look at her, Klaus tosses the ring to Rebekah, who catches it easily before handing it to the old woman.
The priestess pours blood into the bowl and begins to chant in French, her eyelids slowly shutting. The low murmuring combined with the sweet smoke coming from the burning herbs next to the bowl makes Caroline's vision swim. Candlelight glints off of the silver of her ring and Caroline swallows a painful lump in her throat as she watches it burn.
The voodoo queen pours the contents of the bowl onto the map next to the altar. Caroline's heart constricts painfully at the sight of melted silver—except, how hot does silver have to get to melt? Fucking magic. "There," the woman says, eyes remaining closed as she points to the thick mass.
Rebekah leans forward and signs unhappily. "Well this was an utter waste of time," she grumbles. "Of course the Bennett witches are in bloody Mystic Falls."
Caroline's lashes flutter downwards just as a resounding snap echoes in the room.
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By the time Klaus and Rebekah finish erasing all traces of their presence from the dead priestess's house—Caroline had continued to sit in the corner, thumb rubbing over the uncomfortably naked skin of her forefinger as she glared daggers at them—the sun is leaving lavender and pink streaks of fading light in the sky.
"Don't be angry, sweetheart," Klaus cajoles lightly as Caroline stomps in front of him. She glares at him over her shoulder.
"Don't tell me what to do," she snaps back, and yeah, it isn't her best work but she's actually seeing red on the edge of her vision and she wants a cigarette so badly that she's getting kill people urges. Specifically kill Klaus urges, and that would lead to a very unfortunate series of events, all things considered.
They pass the Tulane campus and Caroline sends a lingering glance towards the multi-colored Mardi Gras beads hanging from tree branches, glinting off of the street lights as they sway slightly in the wind. There's a brief stab of envy low in her stomach, a mourning for the life she was supposed to have—graduation and college and frat parties with kegs—before she turns back to staring straight ahead.
Klaus must see the direction of her gaze because he says lowly in her ear—and when exactly did he get so close, jeez personal space much— "I'll bring you back next year. For Mardi Gras."
There's a shiver threatening to shimmy its way down her spine so she scoffs back angrily, "If I want to come back, I'll bring myself, thanks."
Rebekah snorts from several paces behind them. "Keep lying to yourself, darling." A witty retort—fine, just a retort, no wit involved—is on the tip of Caroline's tongue when Rebekah continues swiftly, "I'm bloody exhausted, Nik. What're your plans?"
"Bourbon," he says idly and Caroline feels the slight pressure of his fingers on the small of her back. "Hands," she snaps, pulling away from him. "And seriously? We're in New Orleans and your plans are to be completely lame and drink bourbon all night?"
"That's hardly what I want to do all night," Klaus draws and she flushes scarlet as Rebekah makes a gagging noise.
"How did you ever get into college?" the other girl demands, and before Caroline can enlighten her on the wonders of sports scholarships and extracurricular activities, Rebekah continues, "He means Bourbon Street."
And okay, yeah, she feels kind of dumb for missing that. "Whatever," she mumbles, looking away from them as they stop to wait for the streetcar. It's empty when it arrives, save for the driver who gives them a single nod before returning his attention to the deserted street.
There's a familiar gleam in Klaus's eye as he and Rebekah stare at the driver and before her brain realizes what's going on, Caroline's mouth takes off.
"So voodoo," she chirps, voice unnaturally loud. "How's that work?" At the identical incredulity on Klaus and Rebekah's faces she clarifies. "I mean, in relation to the cure."
Klaus's knee brushes hers and she knows it isn't an accident when he doesn't move it away. "We need a Bennett," he says simply, and she doesn't miss how his fingers rest on her shoulder when his arm drapes over the back of her seat. Always pushing.
"Yeah, I got that part," she says darkly, shifting away so that she's pressed further into the window of the streetcar. "What's the plan after that?" She looks specifically at Rebekah. "Turn back into a human? After everything you've—after everything that's happened?"
Rebekah turns around to face them, long hair brushing over the back of her seat in front of them. "Not that you could possibly understand," she says coolly, "But it's been over a thousand years, Caroline. I'm tired, and I'd like very much to start living instead of just existing." Her eyes flicker to where Klaus's body is touching Caroline's. "But again. I don't expect you to understand."
The scorn in her tone makes Caroline stiffen as Rebekah turns back around in her seat. They sit in silence, Klaus's fingers grazing her bare shoulder every few minutes before the streetcar stops. Rebekah stands up, a single graceful movement that Caroline finds herself envying, and sends Klaus a speaking glance before gliding off the streetcar and disappearing.
"When was the last time you ate?" Klaus asks suddenly, and Caroline's spine snaps into a straight line.
"'M not hungry," she lies, and she feels his scoff of disbelief rather than hears it. "Just so you know," she adds haughtily, crossing her arms and looking down her nose at him, "The only reason I'm still here is to protect Bonnie's family from you."
"The only reason?" he repeats with a smirk and she wants to smack it off of his face.
"Well," Caroline pauses and considers him as one of his eyebrows rises in question. "This is my first time in New Orleans and I'll be damned if I let your evil master plan ruin it."
Klaus laughs, low in his throat and her fingers on the hand that is not next to Klaus clench down on the edge of her top. In anger, she assures herself. She's a veritable hostage, the victim of kidnapping, theft, and blackmail and she's having to fight off her attraction to the culprit behind literally all of those things.
"Caroline," he says, reaching for a piece of her hair and wrapping it gently around his finger, "you're already damned."
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Bourbon Street is a crowded, drunken mess of humanity and Caroline can't stop watching the crowd. There are people everywhere—hollering from balconies and throwing beaded necklaces down at every girl that passes by, stumbling in and out of hole-in-the-wall bars and smoking on badly lit corners.
He buys her a Hand Grenade and she takes it because if she's stuck with him anyway, she'd rather be drunk. She tells him as much before downing half the neon green drink in one gulp.
"Steady there," Klaus chides as the waitress at the tiny bar sets down a glass of Scotch in front him. He sends the girl a slow smile and says something low in her ear before turning back to Caroline. At her blank expression, he motions to her drink. "They make those strong down here."
"I'm going to need a few more to turn you into a ten," she snarks back, finishing the drink off in her second swallow. He laughs and she doesn't even try to hide her surprise when it sounds appreciative.
The waitress shows up again, a curved glass in hand. "Hurricane," she says cheerfully. "New Orleans specialty." She sends a flirtatious a wink Klaus's way. "Enjoy."
Caroline rolls her eyes and leans forward to take a sip of the drink, but as soon as the first stream of cold liquid touches her tongues she tears herself away from it. "You—" she sputters, her eyes narrowing as she glares accusingly at Klaus. Her voice drops to a whisper. "You compelled that girl to put blood in this."
Klaus doesn't deny it, looking entirely unapologetic as he watches her fume. "You're hungry," he says simply and she lets out an exasperated breath.
"First of all—" she begins forcefully and he cuts her off.
"A century removed from your human life and yet you still insist on pretending like they matter," Klaus says with a disapproving shake of his head. "A word to the wise, darling—they don't. They are prey and nothing more."
Caroline rolls her eyes at him and roots through her purse; there's no point in having this argument with him. When her search comes up empty her head snaps up and she sets her jaw.
Her fingers twitch and she really, really wants that cigarette.
"You stole my Marlboros," she accuses flatly and he doesn't even have the good grace to look ashamed.
"As I said," Klaus shrugs his shoulders. "Vice doesn't suit you."
"Oh fuck off," she retorts bitterly. "As if you get to decide that. You don't know the first thing about me."
He smirks at her. "Are you so sure about that, sweetheart?"
"Yes," she tosses back, her chin jerking up in defiance. Her fingers toy with the curved glass and she contemplates throwing it in his handsome, evil face. Instead, she opts for the high road and stands up, straightening her shirt and sliding out of her seat.
"Where do you think you're going?" he asks softly, but there's an edge to it that Caroline doesn't miss.
She rolls her eyes at him. "I'm going to buy cigarettes," she informs him tartly and when his eyes narrow at her, she wiggles the ring-less fingers of her left hand. "It's not like I can go anywhere," she points out irritably. "And like I said, I'm sticking around to make sure you and Sister Mary Psycho don't get anywhere near Bonnie's family."
To her immense relief, Klaus does not follow her.
The taste of blood still stinging on her tongue, Caroline keeps her head down as she pushes past the stumbling crowd, her eyes fixed on the 24 hour store at the far end of the street.
It's empty save for a young mother with a crying baby; Caroline sends her a sympathetic glance before pulling a go-phone off of a spinning rack. She pays for it and for a pack of Virginia Slims—for luck, she decides as she lights one outside.
Elena answers before the first ring is finished. "Who is this?" she snaps and Caroline tilts her head back, exhaling a cloud of smoke. She starts to walk down the street, the noise of Bourbon Street at her back.
"It's me," she says, watching the smoke vanish. "I'm okay."
Elena sighs into the phone and Caroline can picture her friend in her mind's eye, sitting at a counter, long curtain of hair falling over one shoulder. She hopes Elena is somewhere warm. On a beach or something.
"What's happening, Caroline?" Elena asks quietly and Caroline takes a long drag before answering. She still isn't sure she totally understands what's going on anyway.
"Klaus thinks he knows what—and where—the cure is."
There is silence on the other end, then a muffled discussion. "What does he think the cure is, Caroline?" Damon demands and Caroline leaves her spot outside of the store to wander down to the water.
"Bonnie," she says simply and she can hear Elena suck in a sharp breath.
"The fuck does that mean?" Damon snaps. "Bonnie's dead."
The tiny sparks on the edge of her cigarette flare in the dark. "Not so much Bonnie herself," Caroline explains wearily, "but her blood." Her voice drops. "Bonnie had—has a family. Klaus is going after them."
She hears Elena say something on the other end then Damon says testily, "Look, Barbie, just do what you do best until we figure something out, okay?"
Caroline stiffens, dropping the cigarette onto the ground and stomping on it. She pretends it's Damon's face. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Distract," he says, as though it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Buy some cute underwear and keep Darth Hybrid occupied—don't hit me, Elena, fuck."
Caroline chooses to be the bigger person and doesn't acknowledge his comments—besides, she can hear Elena still furiously berating him. "You two have to leave wherever it is you live," she warns quietly, fingers drumming against the back of the phone. "Klaus and Rebekah know where you are."
"Already packed," Damon says dismissively. "Tell us something we don't know."
Taking a ragged breath, Caroline says lowly into the phone, "I hope I don't see you anytime soon, okay?"
Elena's voice comes back over the line. "Care, promise me you'll be careful. Don't—" she sighs again and Caroline shakes her head slightly.
"I will," she promises before hanging up.
She finds herself staring out at the Mississippi River, the ocean liners lit in the distance. She stays on the waterfront for a few quiet minutes after hanging up, watching light of the streetlamps dance on the waves.
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It's three in the morning and Caroline winds up at Café du Monde with the rest of the drunken members of the city—though she's far more sober than she'd like to be. She dives into a steaming plate of beignets—or, as she's tempted to call them, manna from fucking heaven—and doesn't come up for air until the hair on her arms stands up. Before she looks up, she polishes off the last beignet and takes a long sip from the cup of water next to her plate.
"It's all bullshit," she informs him flatly, finally looking up as she dabs powdered sugar away from the corner of her mouth. Klaus drops easily into the plastic chair across from her and arches a questioning eyebrow at her. She takes personal pleasure at the way his nose wrinkles slightly at the smell of smoke on her hair.
"Pray tell," he invites dryly and she finishes off her plate before answering him.
"First," she holds up a finger, "the hundred year clock was complete crap." He looks amused and doesn't contest the point, so she continues. "If finding out where Bonnie went was as easy as getting a voodoo witch doctor to perform a stupid ritual for you—"
"Ah, but darling," he cuts in, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. "I can assure that was hardly easy."
She waves him off dismissively. "Whatever. It was still crap. Pure and unadulterated. Why wait a hundred years when you could've gotten Original Recipe Bonnie instead of her descendants? To make sure we all lived our lives looking over our shoulder for you?"
Before Klaus can answer, she goes on, holding up a second finger. "Two. You kidnapped me for my ring." His face darkens but he doesn't interrupt. "You know exactly where Damon and Elena are, you know that Bonnie made both of our rings, and for the Double Jeopardy bonus round—you probably need her anyway." The fingers she's holding up shake slightly. "But you decided to take mine. That's why you cornered me in Stockholm and that's why you dragged me to the middle of a freaking swamp." Caroline pins him with a disgusted look and to her astonishment, his eyes flicker down to the table. "And you know that not only do I have no choice but to stick around until I get another ring, but that I also won't let you hurt innocent people—especially Bonnie's family. Masterful manipulation on your part, but bullshit it remains."
So quickly that she doesn't see him move, he's got her fingers trapped in his. "Bonnie disappeared with Jeremy Gilbert," he tells her quietly and although Caroline can't say she's surprised—hell, she'd guessed it herself—the certainty in his voice still makes her start a little. "Ayana was not a fool when it came to protecting her hunters, Caroline. The ritual would have never worked as long as they remained together." He lets go and leans back in his seat, folding his hands behind his head and observing her far too closely for her liking.
"And me?" she asks, staring at him.
This time he doesn't drop his gaze. "The doppelganger is not required." The dark look in his eyes fades as he adds lightly, "And I prefer you."
She scowls back. "And I'd prefer if you'd drown in the Mississippi but we can't always get what we want."
Those blue eyes slowly sweep over her and she fights back the blush threatening to spread across her face. "No," he agrees slowly, eyes hot on her face. "We can't."
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.
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Caroline will totally dwell on the shitty circumstances later, but for now—
It's almost comical, how she basically tackles Stefan.
She had almost convinced herself that her life in Mystic Falls had never existed, that Stefan and Elena and Bonnie and Tyler were all in her imagination and she was pining not for ghosts but for the insane ramblings of someone who has lived too long.
But here he is in the salty, unseasonably sweltering heat of New Orleans and Caroline buries her face into his chest, inhaling deeply. He smells like the boarding house, even after all this time and the familiarity of it is nearly overwhelming. His hair is a little longer and his arms around her tighten like he's seriously considering never letting her go. "I missed you so much," she whispers into his shoulder and he laughs.
"We bloody get it," Rebekah says irritably. "You're the two best friends anyone has ever had. Enough already."
Caroline opens her eyes and gives Stefan a final squeeze—mostly because she's seriously missed him, but a little bit to piss off Rebekah—before backing away.
"Klaus. Rebekah," Stefan says coldly, jerking his head once in greeting. He slings his bag over his shoulder and stares down his nose at them. "This better be good."
The displeased tilt to Klaus's mouth disappears. "Believe me, mate," he says, dimples flashing. "It is."
"So he says," Caroline says under her breath. Stefan's expression is blank but he drapes one arm over her shoulders as they walk. Rebekah's face turns murderous.
It's somehow hotter and more humid outside the airport than it was before they went in. Global warming's a bitch, she thinks bitterly—below zero in Stockholm and currently over ninety at night in New Orleans.
Caroline pulls her hair off her neck and ties it into a sloppy ponytail, catching Stefan's eye as she fixes the elastic. She casts a pointed glance in Klaus's direction as he leads the way down to the waiting car. One of Stefan's eyebrows lifts slightly and Caroline shakes her head just slightly—an entire conversation without speaking a single word.
"Spit it out or I'm walking," Stefan says bluntly, his arm dropping from Caroline. Klaus turns slight and raises a single inquisitive eyebrow and Stefan elaborates, "Care's a big girl and if I'm not mistaken, you've got an itch she won't let you scratch—" He casts a curious look Caroline's way and smirks a little when she wrinkles her nose and mutters, "In his dreams."
Stefan turns his attention back to Klaus, who's staring at the two of them like he'd love nothing more than to stake them both with the door handle. "So yeah, I'm not too worried for her well-being. And," he adds, tossing his bag in the trunk and giving it a good slam shut, "You'd be surprised how few fucks I give about the cure."
Klaus doesn't look the slightest bit surprised. "Then it's a good thing no one's looking for it for you, mate," he replies carelessly, opening the door to the car for Caroline. She scowls at him and promptly strides to the other side, yanking the door open for herself.
When they reach the apartment, Stefan drops his bag next to the doorway and drawls loudly, "Quit stalling, Klaus."
"Oh, calm down, Stefan. All in good time," Rebekah chides, heading towards the liquor cabinet and pulling out two bottles of bourbon. "Go on and tell them, Nik."
Caroline's stomach does a nervous roll at the twitch of Klaus's mouth.
"We're raising Silas," he says, and Caroline blinks because he did not just say that with all the ease of we're going grocery shopping at three.
"But—but didn't—" she stammers, trying to think of a way to bring up Kol and his gruesome end without getting her neck snapped.
Stefan beats her to the punch and doesn't mince words about it. "Didn't your kid brother die trying to prevent exactly that?" he asks pointedly and both Rebekah and Klaus flinch.
"It's a risk I'm willing to take," Klaus responds gruffly, taking a long sip of his bourbon, his eyes hooded and unreadable.
Stefan mirrors the action, his eyes never leaving Klaus's. Caroline starts to fidget, wondering if they're about to start hitting each other and she reaches for Stefan. Klaus's eyes narrow at the movement and he looks like he wants to rip Stefan's hand right off of his arm. Caroline lets go immediately.
"Why do you need a Bennett?" Stefan asks, setting his now empty glass down on the table and crossing his arms. "What about Elena?"
"What about that horrid bint?" Rebekah interjects, leaning forward. "She's not necessary. She's utterly useless, as always." Amusement briefly flashes across Stefan's face and the irritation in Rebekah's face fades slightly. Caroline wants to barf.
"A Bennett witch is needed because a Bennett witch put Silas in the ground," Klaus says and Caroline straightens.
"Ayana put him there," she guesses and Rebekah laughs from across the room.
"Ayana was a thousand years after Silas," she says dismissively and Caroline slumps a little back into her seat. "Qetsiyah was her ancestor. The originator of the Bennett line, if you will."
For a moment there is silence as the clock ticks steadily from the mantle. "You don't need them to do any magic," Caroline realizes quietly, eyes widening at Klaus. It's stupid and ridiculous, considering who he is and their various sides, but a thread of betrayal still weaves its way through her heart. "You need them to die."
Klaus's expression is unreadable and his lips begin to part in response, but it's Rebekah who answers. "Blood is the ultimate life source, Caroline. You should know that by now."
Stefan's foot taps restlessly against his knee. "Bonnie would have done it," he says slowly. "Bonnie would have sacrificed herself." Caroline pulls away from him irritably and glares.
"So Bonnie's life isn't—wasn't worth as much as ours?" she snaps at him and Stefan sighs.
"That's not what I'm saying, Care," he responds exasperatedly, a tired hand running over his scalp. "I'm just pointing out that Bonnie would—and did—put her life on the line for us, so why would she take off at the prospect of doing it again?"
Caroline's forehead burrows and she pinches the bridge of her nose. "Jeremy," she says finally, leaning back in her seat.
"Yes, the young Mr. Gilbert figured out that only the death of the girl he loved could cure his sister," Klaus drawls, his pointer finger lazily circling the rim of his glass. "And as his sister was never actually unavailable to him…" he gives a short, humorless laugh. "Well, who hasn't betrayed family for love?"
Before Caroline can so much as frown in confusion, there's a sharp inhalation of breath from Rebekah. "That's not fair, Nik," she whispers before getting up and retreating to the adjoining bedroom. There is no slamming of the door, no yelling and Caroline feels a brief flash of sympathy for the other girl.
"Way harsh, Tai," she mutters under breath and Klaus turns nearly black eyes on the two of them. Her fingers dig nervously into the sofa cushions.
But then he stands and says calmly, "We're leaving tomorrow, so you two had best rest up."
"And where exactly are we going?" Stefan demands. Caroline leans forward and buries her face in her hands.
"Where do you think?" she asks, her voice muffled. "We're going home."
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tbc.
A/N: So Mardi Gras is actually Tuesday (a group of my friends is currently in New Orleans celebrating and I'm so unamused that I have to work). But yes, consider this your Fat Tuesday present and go eat some beignets because I wasn't lying—they're actually manna from heaven. King cake is also acceptable, but be sure to tell me if you get the baby!
Laissez les bons temps rouler!