Post by Edward Cullen on Dec 27, 2012 13:02:07 GMT -5
The sky was still gloomy as it was when Edward Cullen had started his journey. It appeared that now his life consisted of only driving and alternately hunting. The black road that stretched before him was comforting almost. The rain glistened pebbles that dotted each side of the road seemed like the only home that he had now. He gazed towards the deep forests, his eyes boring through the shadow shrouded maze. It was quiet. Well, relatively so. The animals already aware of his presence had fled. The sole noises were those of a passive life. The brushing of leaves on a tree, the scurrying of ants along bark, and the grating of a tree creaking. Edward focused once more on the road. His lead had been far from satisfactory. The image the waitress had managed to conjure up was blurry to say the least. Captured by the eyes of a dim-witted human the woman in her memory could have been any red-head. But, it was her reaction had made him aware of this particular red-head. The tremor of fear that twined through her thoughts. The subconscious raising of hair on her pudgy arms. It indicated all to well that the woman in her mind was danger. The lady could not have rationalized the danger herself. What was there to fear of an unnaturally pale female? Yet, what would she say if she knew? What would she do if she was told that that apparently harmless female could rip out her throat before she would realize it?
He wondered in the back of his mind why she didn't do it. Why had Victoria left the lady alive? She could have just as easily, and probably more conveniently, disposed off of the waitress. The effort of finding something to cloak her eyes and enduring the thirst must mean she was on a mission. Either that or Edward was, once again, wrong. A stanza, subconiously being pondered in his head, wafted forward. Moving through a mirror clear…shadows of the world appear… came two lovers lately wed…
"I am half sick of shadows" she said.
Edward knew the poem, the ridiculously famous, "Lady of Shalott," by Alfred Tennyson, circa 1809, published first in 1833 and second in 1842.
Edward had been forced to read the poem as a child. It had been the subject of much debate. He would not be disputed in saying that Tennyson took a certain creative liberty when writing the poem. He refocused on the words that had flown into his mind. In a way, a sick way that involved him being female, He could understand what she meant. Throughout his life he had seen the world about. His eyes were those "mirrors clear."
But, Edward knew, nor cared, what the world around him did. For the most part being a vampire was quite boring. He spent his existence rebelling against what he was, yearning to be what he was not. Days past as the lovely shades of dismal, monotonous, and tedium. Events were only markers among decades. Celebration, non-existent. In his early life, as he liked to think of it—pre-Bella—the most remarkable day of his existence may have been the day his eyes returned to that incorrigible tan. Of course meeting Alice and Jasper in addition to Tanya's clan were imprinted in his memory.
This led me to the second part of his musing.
"Two lovers lately wed…I am half sick of shadows" she said
With each addition to our dangerously growing—no one wanted a run with the Volturi—a sense of completeness would follow. The love surrounding Carlisle when with Esme, Jasper with Alice, and of course Emmett and Rosalie was irrepressible. It was evident to Edward, even though Jasper was supposed to sense emotions. This love, an the passion and desire that inevitably followed was too much to bear. Edward had been complete, he reminded myself, he was complete in myself.
This completeness, this joy would be tainted by his presence. It would start by Esme's worry over his well being. Then cause Carlisle concern that he made the right choice. Next Jasper would be affected by their moods, causing Alice to consider murdering him. Leaving Rosalie disgruntled and Emmett amused. Perfect.
He had to consider the fact that perhaps Tennyson really did have an inkling of what was really going on. He knew the despair one would face while watching the world move, yet forever being stuck in the same place. Edward had lived that life for too long, and then
"As often thro' the purple night, below the starry clusters bright, some bearded meteor, trailing light, Moves over still Shalott."
This explained her—Bella—perfectly. Before Edward had met her, in his early life the events and introductions and been minor points of light amid his existence. But then, on that fateful day, the first time his presence nearly killed her, something changed. Edward did not know it then, he had been consumed with the burning thirst to, he shuddered, kill her. However, somehow he had overcome that thirst. Somehow he had refrained from touching the one thing that would mean so much. After he left he had begun to think clearly. The memory of her scent, the desire to taste…it was still preserved. Yet among the trees, far from the life he had created, away from Forks, it was easier to think of her as a person rather than prey.
That second conversation had him hooked. The taste while still quite unbearable was overcome by something slightly stronger, curiosity. Edward wanted to know more about this Bella Swan. He wanted to protect her frail figure from the dangers that seemed to naturally follow her. Suddenly, a burning meteor, something he could have never imagined or known of before, had passed through his existence. It was hard to say when it happened; all he knew was that it had. In a way that surpassed any knowledge he had collected he knew that he was irrevocably in love with Bella. She however was human, she needed change, and she deserved change.
This was why he was here. Exactly, his mind calculated, seven hundred forty-three miles away. The fact did nothing to change the fact that his existence had, in fact, changed when Bella entered it. Something had moved over "still" Edward, that something was the reason why he was here.
This brief minute he had taken to think had done him good. Amid the musing he had come upon the real reason he was here. It was as though his thoughts had spurned him forward, daring Edward to continue. Edward was here on a mission, however sidetracked he might will himself to be, the fact would never change. He supposed this could be considered a vendetta, an obsession to get back at the one thing that still harmed Bella. But it was not. More, of a retaliation of sorts. A change to right what was inherently wrong, fix what needed to be fixed. For society at least, he reasoned, Victoria was a danger to all humans as well. What she was planning now he could not be sure of, and for the first time that scared him.
Edward wasn't sure what to expect, though he knew he could handle whatever she through his way. No, his fear had a far less selfish route. He was afraid for her, Bella. Victoria could surely not be capable of much murder; she seemed to be with James for comfort rather than love. A lover's bond would not have been broken. Besides, if that were the case she should have come after him, or his family. Not Bella.
He turned back to the road, his gaze had been trained to the veneer interior as he had pondered his existence. He rolled down the window, slightly so the air from outside would enter. He sucked a deep breath in and the air whooshed hollowly down his throat. It did nothing, as it hadn't for over ninety years, to abate the dull thirst at the back of his throat. It did, however, leave behind various odors for him to decipher. There was the musky woody smell of a Cockspur Hawthorne typical to the region. This was coupled with the earthy undertone of decomposing leaves and mulch. There was the faintly sweet smell of a group of squirrels scurrying away. That seemed to be it, but he focused closer. Edward sifted through the odors of pines, of tar, of the road beneath him, and the rubber of his tires. Edward ignored the fragrance of the dew and the past rain. Then the air was tainted by one more smell, a scent he had wished never to smell again. It was a scent that had reeked havoc on his pitiful existence. It was this scent that had aided a monster in the hunt of the one thing he loved. Victoria. She had passed through here about a month ago, traveling south west towards Prince Albert National Park, though Edward doubted whether she continued that far. He got out of his car and began to survey the land around him. The hunt had begun.
He wondered in the back of his mind why she didn't do it. Why had Victoria left the lady alive? She could have just as easily, and probably more conveniently, disposed off of the waitress. The effort of finding something to cloak her eyes and enduring the thirst must mean she was on a mission. Either that or Edward was, once again, wrong. A stanza, subconiously being pondered in his head, wafted forward. Moving through a mirror clear…shadows of the world appear… came two lovers lately wed…
"I am half sick of shadows" she said.
Edward knew the poem, the ridiculously famous, "Lady of Shalott," by Alfred Tennyson, circa 1809, published first in 1833 and second in 1842.
Edward had been forced to read the poem as a child. It had been the subject of much debate. He would not be disputed in saying that Tennyson took a certain creative liberty when writing the poem. He refocused on the words that had flown into his mind. In a way, a sick way that involved him being female, He could understand what she meant. Throughout his life he had seen the world about. His eyes were those "mirrors clear."
But, Edward knew, nor cared, what the world around him did. For the most part being a vampire was quite boring. He spent his existence rebelling against what he was, yearning to be what he was not. Days past as the lovely shades of dismal, monotonous, and tedium. Events were only markers among decades. Celebration, non-existent. In his early life, as he liked to think of it—pre-Bella—the most remarkable day of his existence may have been the day his eyes returned to that incorrigible tan. Of course meeting Alice and Jasper in addition to Tanya's clan were imprinted in his memory.
This led me to the second part of his musing.
"Two lovers lately wed…I am half sick of shadows" she said
With each addition to our dangerously growing—no one wanted a run with the Volturi—a sense of completeness would follow. The love surrounding Carlisle when with Esme, Jasper with Alice, and of course Emmett and Rosalie was irrepressible. It was evident to Edward, even though Jasper was supposed to sense emotions. This love, an the passion and desire that inevitably followed was too much to bear. Edward had been complete, he reminded myself, he was complete in myself.
This completeness, this joy would be tainted by his presence. It would start by Esme's worry over his well being. Then cause Carlisle concern that he made the right choice. Next Jasper would be affected by their moods, causing Alice to consider murdering him. Leaving Rosalie disgruntled and Emmett amused. Perfect.
He had to consider the fact that perhaps Tennyson really did have an inkling of what was really going on. He knew the despair one would face while watching the world move, yet forever being stuck in the same place. Edward had lived that life for too long, and then
"As often thro' the purple night, below the starry clusters bright, some bearded meteor, trailing light, Moves over still Shalott."
This explained her—Bella—perfectly. Before Edward had met her, in his early life the events and introductions and been minor points of light amid his existence. But then, on that fateful day, the first time his presence nearly killed her, something changed. Edward did not know it then, he had been consumed with the burning thirst to, he shuddered, kill her. However, somehow he had overcome that thirst. Somehow he had refrained from touching the one thing that would mean so much. After he left he had begun to think clearly. The memory of her scent, the desire to taste…it was still preserved. Yet among the trees, far from the life he had created, away from Forks, it was easier to think of her as a person rather than prey.
That second conversation had him hooked. The taste while still quite unbearable was overcome by something slightly stronger, curiosity. Edward wanted to know more about this Bella Swan. He wanted to protect her frail figure from the dangers that seemed to naturally follow her. Suddenly, a burning meteor, something he could have never imagined or known of before, had passed through his existence. It was hard to say when it happened; all he knew was that it had. In a way that surpassed any knowledge he had collected he knew that he was irrevocably in love with Bella. She however was human, she needed change, and she deserved change.
This was why he was here. Exactly, his mind calculated, seven hundred forty-three miles away. The fact did nothing to change the fact that his existence had, in fact, changed when Bella entered it. Something had moved over "still" Edward, that something was the reason why he was here.
This brief minute he had taken to think had done him good. Amid the musing he had come upon the real reason he was here. It was as though his thoughts had spurned him forward, daring Edward to continue. Edward was here on a mission, however sidetracked he might will himself to be, the fact would never change. He supposed this could be considered a vendetta, an obsession to get back at the one thing that still harmed Bella. But it was not. More, of a retaliation of sorts. A change to right what was inherently wrong, fix what needed to be fixed. For society at least, he reasoned, Victoria was a danger to all humans as well. What she was planning now he could not be sure of, and for the first time that scared him.
Edward wasn't sure what to expect, though he knew he could handle whatever she through his way. No, his fear had a far less selfish route. He was afraid for her, Bella. Victoria could surely not be capable of much murder; she seemed to be with James for comfort rather than love. A lover's bond would not have been broken. Besides, if that were the case she should have come after him, or his family. Not Bella.
He turned back to the road, his gaze had been trained to the veneer interior as he had pondered his existence. He rolled down the window, slightly so the air from outside would enter. He sucked a deep breath in and the air whooshed hollowly down his throat. It did nothing, as it hadn't for over ninety years, to abate the dull thirst at the back of his throat. It did, however, leave behind various odors for him to decipher. There was the musky woody smell of a Cockspur Hawthorne typical to the region. This was coupled with the earthy undertone of decomposing leaves and mulch. There was the faintly sweet smell of a group of squirrels scurrying away. That seemed to be it, but he focused closer. Edward sifted through the odors of pines, of tar, of the road beneath him, and the rubber of his tires. Edward ignored the fragrance of the dew and the past rain. Then the air was tainted by one more smell, a scent he had wished never to smell again. It was a scent that had reeked havoc on his pitiful existence. It was this scent that had aided a monster in the hunt of the one thing he loved. Victoria. She had passed through here about a month ago, traveling south west towards Prince Albert National Park, though Edward doubted whether she continued that far. He got out of his car and began to survey the land around him. The hunt had begun.
