New Orleans was alive in a way few cities were — music and magic threading through every cobblestone, every heartbeat.

Elijah Mikaelson stepped into the French Quarter like a man returning home to a place he’d never lived. A fresh start. Or so he hoped.

He moved through the lively streets with a quiet elegance that didn’t quite fit the chaos of Bourbon Street — the crowd parting for him without knowing why. Supernatural instinct clung to him like a tailored suit.

That’s when he saw you.

Leaning against the railing of a two-story balcony, drink in hand, the neon glow painting your skin like a secret only the night should know. Your eyes met his — and the world muted. A flicker of recognition danced in your gaze. Vampire. Ancient. Dangerous.

Elijah’s lips curved into a soft, polite smile as he approached the building’s entrance and climbed the short staircase toward you. He stopped a respectful distance away, though his attention never once wavered.

“Good evening,” he said, voice deep and controlled, yet undeniably warm. “I hope you’ll forgive the intrusion. I’m… new to the area.”

You arched an eyebrow. “New Orleans usually likes to give people a loud welcome.”

He chuckled softly. “Yes, well. The city has quite a reputation. I’m beginning to understand why.” His eyes lingered — longer than they should have. “You seem rather comfortable here. Have you lived in the Quarter long?”

You shrugged lightly. “Long enough that the locals stopped trying to guess what I am.”

Elijah’s posture straightened a little — alert, intrigued. “You don’t try to disguise it,” he noted, admiration in his tone.

“Why should I?” you replied, stepping closer. “Anyone smart enough to fear me already does.”

Elijah’s smile grew — subtle, impressed. “Then perhaps,” he said gently, “I should count myself fortunate that what I feel right now… is curiosity.”

There was something almost boyish in the way he studied you — like he was trying to decipher a mystery he suddenly couldn’t resist solving.

“Forgive me,” he said, extending his hand with old-world grace. “My name is Elijah Mikaelson — and I would very much like to know yours.”