sheisourheart: (Simple Joys)
[personal profile] sheisourheart
It's early spring and Esme is outside attending to the flower banks which have newly opened. Kneeling in the beds pulling out handfuls of weeds with decided affection toward both the task and the garden itself. Even toward the silence of the afternoon, now that Edward has stopped banging out his newest piece a few minutes ago.

Something had settled out finally with the acceptance to his new school.
An unexpected outcome to their unexpected blessings.

Where there has once been the combined presences of the piano that Carlisle had kept and then finally Edward, without any playing, since the letter, there had been ceaseless sound all day and night long. But it wasn't only sound. It was as though Edward was using his hands as a hammer to press out all the sound as loud and hard and fast through the keys as were it possible while still leaving it standing.

There was nothing precious to the playing any longer, and the gift that it was happening waned weeks back. She didn't need a musical degree to be able to tell how these pieces were picked, or why he played them. More often than not she needed more patience not to frown or make a pointed comment with her thought.

Date: 2010-04-06 12:03 am (UTC)
themidnightson: (Default)
From: [personal profile] themidnightson
Edward wasn't very far from her, watching her.

"Why are you doing that?"

Date: 2010-04-06 12:58 am (UTC)
themidnightson: (Intensely Present)
From: [personal profile] themidnightson
He didn't ask what, Esme. He asked why. Edward walked slow, still steps behind her, along the well kept path in the garden that was so obviously her domain.

"You have been been at this for an hour." Even for being at their common speed without human blood. "Why are you doing it so slowly?"

Date: 2010-04-06 04:27 am (UTC)
themidnightson: (Suspicious)
From: [personal profile] themidnightson
More disconcerted than curious, "What."

Date: 2010-04-06 05:14 am (UTC)
themidnightson: (Wary)
From: [personal profile] themidnightson
Somehow that actually made sense to her.

He hadn't come out of the house to be insulted or insinuated at.

Esme was only older than him as much as she wasn't. Even before there were things he'd done that she had no way to even begin to frame a reference toward, he was over thirty now and beyond young in either of their previous worlds.



It left him standing, staring at her, uncomfortable in her certainty.
The layer of compassionate amusement and gratitude under it.

Date: 2010-04-06 05:28 am (UTC)
themidnightson: (Annoyed Chagrin)
From: [personal profile] themidnightson
He'd gotten the fact she'd meant to tease him, but it fell flat.



"It's about flowers and foods," Edward said irritably.
"And, in half of this city, purchasable popular appearance."

Date: 2010-04-06 05:31 am (UTC)
themidnightson: (Intensely Present)
From: [personal profile] themidnightson
"We do those fast, too."

There was an errant dryness to it.

Date: 2010-04-06 05:38 am (UTC)
themidnightson: (Vampire)
From: [personal profile] themidnightson
It took the better part of half a minute, but he did. Sit off to the side of her. Untouching. Looking at her dirt-streaked hands working another plant, waiting, with the preparation of impending weight for whatever he'd earned this time.

Date: 2010-04-06 05:53 am (UTC)
themidnightson: (Eyes black as night)
From: [personal profile] themidnightson
Edward bit back the savage retort that nothing in this life was good anymore. All that was good and, dare he consider left of, holy, was outside of his reach now. A light which only further illuminated the darkness he was.



He reached out and pulled a weed lightening fast grasp.
Glaring at the rainbows reflected on it in the afternoon sun.

Date: 2010-04-06 05:57 am (UTC)
themidnightson: (The Predator)
From: [personal profile] themidnightson
Edward's frown flared.




But seconds later he reached out for another one.
Slower, methodical, annoyed and purposeful.
Swearing at plants in his own head.

Date: 2010-04-06 06:04 am (UTC)
themidnightson: (Crazy Disbelief or Doubting)
From: [personal profile] themidnightson
Edward's lips turned hard and flat.

"I don't deserve to be found."


He didn't deserve to be here.
Edited Date: 2010-04-06 06:05 am (UTC)

Date: 2010-04-06 06:09 am (UTC)
themidnightson: (Letting it off the chain)
From: [personal profile] themidnightson
"One." The word is a savagely dark growl.

Date: 2010-04-06 06:16 am (UTC)
themidnightson: (Not Human)
From: [personal profile] themidnightson
"One." He can't stop himself. "One accident."

He can't stop the torrent of blackness gouging out from his mind through his mouth. The sarcastic, biting coldness in every inch of them. The damnation he throws himself at the same as he does the piano keys and Carlisle's confused gaze.

"You know nothing. You have never hunted down men or women systematically, enjoying the flavor of their impending death as much as the death itself. You know nothing of planning it out. The waiting. The glut. The celebration of winning. I am a murderer, Esme. A murderer."

And for the depth of his sins, one worse than any of the ones he'd killed.

Date: 2010-04-06 06:21 am (UTC)
themidnightson: (The Lion)
From: [personal profile] themidnightson
Three words. The very last three words he'd ever expected her to say.
Three words that silence the flagging storm as if on command.

Finally. Finally, what he deserved. What lay under it all.

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sheisourheart

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