Post by Edward Cullen on Feb 11, 2013 11:42:00 GMT -5
Edward Cullen pulled the car over to the side of the road and got out to take a better look. Victoria had been here, at least he was on the right path. Perhaps if he could find a trampled plant or a whiff as to the scent of the fabric she was wearing it would be an easier search. He swiftly entered the woods watching as the ground flew around him like the tarmac before a plane. However instead of the blurry grey or green one would have expected he was able to see every blade of grass and every fissure in the shaded tree's bark. Edward was farther in the woods now, the muted light was only filtering through in sporadic shafts. The musty smell of the trees around here was unfamiliar. Edward had gotten too fond of the vegetation in Forks.
He drew a deep breath in again. Amid the motes of different scents he caught a whiff of that vile scent. For once he was actually glad, nay, happy to have detected her presence. From the strength and direction the smell had wafted in it appeared that she had traveled five miles north. But what was there? An unsuspecting town? Purely a whim? Surely not, immersing herself with humans would require too much preparation and work. Victoria, or any "normal" vampire for that matter, would never expend the effort it took to maintain our frail facade. This thought drew one of two conclusions. The first was that Victoria, though she appeared to have been changed in the 1970's was reverting back to her new born instincts. Perhaps she had been quite shaken by the experience in Phoenix. That drew another tangential thought forth in his mind.
Edward had been wondering whether Victoria had realized that James was dead. He had never quite gotten a look at their coven that night. It appeared that she, like Laurent, was a follower. There with James only for protection. Her thoughts seemed to agree, quite confidently, that he would succeed--he snarled--in his hunt of Bella.
But why? She would have known that she couldn't have shared the blood. If the fact that sharing human blood was impossible hadn't tipped her off then surely she would have realized that blood couldn't travel the five hundred miles from Phoenix to Washington. So, the question arose again, why help? Could they have been mates? Surely Edward would have seen that bond between them. He may not be able to understand her, Bella's, thoughts but he could definitely comprehend the thoughts of other of them. Us, blood sucking monsters. Edward had detected no such bond. Only a sense of confidence, a sense that he would not fail. That was not love. Though he may not know the love between vampires, and he thought bleakly, he would never know love again, he knew that Victoria and James were not in love.
Nothing, not even one ounce of their thoughts conveyed a thousandth of the relationship Bella and he shared. Even Carlisle and Esme, Alice and Jasper, or Emmett and Rosalie, different types of attraction in each case, did not have the feral survival instinct that was prevalent in their thoughts. It wasn't as though Victoria was afraid of James, she was if anything afraid for herself. But beyond that was the slightly gloating satisfaction. The knowledge that in her mind we, the strange wannabe humans, were going to be destroyed. They were going to be taught a lesson. She was wrong. She was most definitely wrong. James had not succeeded though, he shuddered, he almost had.
The memory of Bella lying limp and weak on the ground. The smell of her blood had held no attraction, it was seeing her that had convinced him that he was wrong. It was not fair for her to be subjected to such danger. She would be safer without him. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Was it possible for vampires to get migraines? He wondered how Aspirin would react to their system.
Victoria's behavior made Edward even more sure that she was a danger to Bella. Previously he had traveled here on a whim. Edward wanted to safer the world, but he had no concrete evidence that she would threaten Bella. It was more the idea that her uncontrolled mind might seek out a vendetta, a chance to hurt his coven truly. But now, now he was quite sure that Victoria was doing something. Edward wasn't--the feeling was strange and unusual--quite sure what she was doing. However he knew she was preparing for some elusive goal and that was enough. It made him ponder what exactly that goal was. What could she want to achieve, would she go after his family?
He reflected guiltily whether he should warn them of the threat. But a smaller more selfish part of his mind whispered that their concern would be too much. They would question his whereabouts and what exactly he was doing with his existence. In addition he didn't want to talk to Esme. He was too cowardly, he didn't deserve to hurt someone so kind and loving. Edward had left without letting her know of his actions. It hurt to see how much his negative presence had affected his family, but it was even more dolorous to ponder upon how the lack of his own presence would have affected them. Edward wasn't filled with self-importance. He didn't want them to miss him. Yet he knew from past experience that he would be missed. His family was strong, but the bonds between them weren't ones of convenience. Unlike Laurent and James and Victoria we were trulying in the deepest sense of the word family.
They were freaks among the freaky. Outcasts among those who were shunned from society. They had lived together for over forty years and the presence of each member distinctly came together to create his familal unit. Edward had been there from the beginning. He was the first to join Carlisle, the first to adopt this way of life. Thus it was rational that he would be closer to the center of their little clan. However they were all adults. Though the family was connected Carlisle, Esme, Alice, no one could stop any of us from making our own decisions. They would have to understand that, he thought, turning his guilt into frustration. Edward seemed to be at a hopeless point. His only reason for living had to be cut out of his life. Bella.
Without her he was lost, afloat, unsure of my purpose. After all, what purpose was there when he had no interest in life, or rather, his existence? There was no outlook, perhaps, one day...a small voice whispered. No. Never. He refused to dwell on the ruminations of that tiny voice. For he knew that once he started thinking about it nothing would prevent him from implementing his plan. Edward's plan, it sounded as though he had thought it out. He hadn't really, well--not that much. The thought was pushed forward stubbornly. No. He knew that this action would be remarkably selfish, that to do what his mind was suggesting would be utter blasphemy.
He knew he couldn't. Yet it didn't stop him from thinking about it. Say, if possibly, seventy years from now he went back to check on her, Bella. What if she was on her death bed, he convulsed spasmodically, He couldn't think like that. Seventy years was quite a long time. But, if he did go back, and he did have the means to save her...would it work? No. No, it wouldn't. He wouldn't allow himself to do that. He had promised her. In a while she would go back to her normal life. Surely she wouldn't miss him. It was but a brief crush, in her own words. Then, he felt himself inadvertently tense, what would happen? In five, ten, fifteen years would she give up on looking for him? Would she even bother to search?
After those five, ten, or fifteen years would she reconsider? Would she choose one of her human friends? That, jealousy flared again like the burning thirst for human blood perhaps even stronger, Mike Newton? Would she be Bella New--He couldn't think it. He couldn't imagine that immature excuse for a man with her. As if he had any say in it, Edward was better that he was gone. Of course she would get over him.
Clearing his head of all thoughts that made him feel like jumping on the first plane to Italy, he turned back to the deciduous maze that was maneuvering through. There were a few logs on the ground and he jumped swiftly over them. The forest ground was softer here, a squelching sort of mixture. He inhaled the now more potent smell of Victoria. He finally had crossed her trail. He looked down to see the path she had created it had been worn down by nature. Edward could tell she was here about three weeks ago and further searching revealed a trampled branch peppered with Victoria's scent. Inhaled the branch once again internalizing the scent, it was an odor tinged with the sweetness of a too ripe banana yet smelling quite like the ocean.
He again reviewed the scent in my mind sifting through the layers of aromas they came with. Then Edward found a glimpse, if anything, of information. Victoria's scent was quite weak to begin with, but amid it was a tinging burning sweetness that could only be human blood. Why would she be so careless as to spill blood on her person? Surely she wasn't that sloppy. No it must be something else, an ulterior motive that had yet to be presented. But what?
He reviewed the information he had gathered so far. Eight months and fifteen days ago he had gone to Phoenix, to put it lightly. At that time Victoria had been searching around Forks, gathering information.
He drew a deep breath in again. Amid the motes of different scents he caught a whiff of that vile scent. For once he was actually glad, nay, happy to have detected her presence. From the strength and direction the smell had wafted in it appeared that she had traveled five miles north. But what was there? An unsuspecting town? Purely a whim? Surely not, immersing herself with humans would require too much preparation and work. Victoria, or any "normal" vampire for that matter, would never expend the effort it took to maintain our frail facade. This thought drew one of two conclusions. The first was that Victoria, though she appeared to have been changed in the 1970's was reverting back to her new born instincts. Perhaps she had been quite shaken by the experience in Phoenix. That drew another tangential thought forth in his mind.
Edward had been wondering whether Victoria had realized that James was dead. He had never quite gotten a look at their coven that night. It appeared that she, like Laurent, was a follower. There with James only for protection. Her thoughts seemed to agree, quite confidently, that he would succeed--he snarled--in his hunt of Bella.
But why? She would have known that she couldn't have shared the blood. If the fact that sharing human blood was impossible hadn't tipped her off then surely she would have realized that blood couldn't travel the five hundred miles from Phoenix to Washington. So, the question arose again, why help? Could they have been mates? Surely Edward would have seen that bond between them. He may not be able to understand her, Bella's, thoughts but he could definitely comprehend the thoughts of other of them. Us, blood sucking monsters. Edward had detected no such bond. Only a sense of confidence, a sense that he would not fail. That was not love. Though he may not know the love between vampires, and he thought bleakly, he would never know love again, he knew that Victoria and James were not in love.
Nothing, not even one ounce of their thoughts conveyed a thousandth of the relationship Bella and he shared. Even Carlisle and Esme, Alice and Jasper, or Emmett and Rosalie, different types of attraction in each case, did not have the feral survival instinct that was prevalent in their thoughts. It wasn't as though Victoria was afraid of James, she was if anything afraid for herself. But beyond that was the slightly gloating satisfaction. The knowledge that in her mind we, the strange wannabe humans, were going to be destroyed. They were going to be taught a lesson. She was wrong. She was most definitely wrong. James had not succeeded though, he shuddered, he almost had.
The memory of Bella lying limp and weak on the ground. The smell of her blood had held no attraction, it was seeing her that had convinced him that he was wrong. It was not fair for her to be subjected to such danger. She would be safer without him. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Was it possible for vampires to get migraines? He wondered how Aspirin would react to their system.
Victoria's behavior made Edward even more sure that she was a danger to Bella. Previously he had traveled here on a whim. Edward wanted to safer the world, but he had no concrete evidence that she would threaten Bella. It was more the idea that her uncontrolled mind might seek out a vendetta, a chance to hurt his coven truly. But now, now he was quite sure that Victoria was doing something. Edward wasn't--the feeling was strange and unusual--quite sure what she was doing. However he knew she was preparing for some elusive goal and that was enough. It made him ponder what exactly that goal was. What could she want to achieve, would she go after his family?
He reflected guiltily whether he should warn them of the threat. But a smaller more selfish part of his mind whispered that their concern would be too much. They would question his whereabouts and what exactly he was doing with his existence. In addition he didn't want to talk to Esme. He was too cowardly, he didn't deserve to hurt someone so kind and loving. Edward had left without letting her know of his actions. It hurt to see how much his negative presence had affected his family, but it was even more dolorous to ponder upon how the lack of his own presence would have affected them. Edward wasn't filled with self-importance. He didn't want them to miss him. Yet he knew from past experience that he would be missed. His family was strong, but the bonds between them weren't ones of convenience. Unlike Laurent and James and Victoria we were trulying in the deepest sense of the word family.
They were freaks among the freaky. Outcasts among those who were shunned from society. They had lived together for over forty years and the presence of each member distinctly came together to create his familal unit. Edward had been there from the beginning. He was the first to join Carlisle, the first to adopt this way of life. Thus it was rational that he would be closer to the center of their little clan. However they were all adults. Though the family was connected Carlisle, Esme, Alice, no one could stop any of us from making our own decisions. They would have to understand that, he thought, turning his guilt into frustration. Edward seemed to be at a hopeless point. His only reason for living had to be cut out of his life. Bella.
Without her he was lost, afloat, unsure of my purpose. After all, what purpose was there when he had no interest in life, or rather, his existence? There was no outlook, perhaps, one day...a small voice whispered. No. Never. He refused to dwell on the ruminations of that tiny voice. For he knew that once he started thinking about it nothing would prevent him from implementing his plan. Edward's plan, it sounded as though he had thought it out. He hadn't really, well--not that much. The thought was pushed forward stubbornly. No. He knew that this action would be remarkably selfish, that to do what his mind was suggesting would be utter blasphemy.
He knew he couldn't. Yet it didn't stop him from thinking about it. Say, if possibly, seventy years from now he went back to check on her, Bella. What if she was on her death bed, he convulsed spasmodically, He couldn't think like that. Seventy years was quite a long time. But, if he did go back, and he did have the means to save her...would it work? No. No, it wouldn't. He wouldn't allow himself to do that. He had promised her. In a while she would go back to her normal life. Surely she wouldn't miss him. It was but a brief crush, in her own words. Then, he felt himself inadvertently tense, what would happen? In five, ten, fifteen years would she give up on looking for him? Would she even bother to search?
After those five, ten, or fifteen years would she reconsider? Would she choose one of her human friends? That, jealousy flared again like the burning thirst for human blood perhaps even stronger, Mike Newton? Would she be Bella New--He couldn't think it. He couldn't imagine that immature excuse for a man with her. As if he had any say in it, Edward was better that he was gone. Of course she would get over him.
Clearing his head of all thoughts that made him feel like jumping on the first plane to Italy, he turned back to the deciduous maze that was maneuvering through. There were a few logs on the ground and he jumped swiftly over them. The forest ground was softer here, a squelching sort of mixture. He inhaled the now more potent smell of Victoria. He finally had crossed her trail. He looked down to see the path she had created it had been worn down by nature. Edward could tell she was here about three weeks ago and further searching revealed a trampled branch peppered with Victoria's scent. Inhaled the branch once again internalizing the scent, it was an odor tinged with the sweetness of a too ripe banana yet smelling quite like the ocean.
He again reviewed the scent in my mind sifting through the layers of aromas they came with. Then Edward found a glimpse, if anything, of information. Victoria's scent was quite weak to begin with, but amid it was a tinging burning sweetness that could only be human blood. Why would she be so careless as to spill blood on her person? Surely she wasn't that sloppy. No it must be something else, an ulterior motive that had yet to be presented. But what?
He reviewed the information he had gathered so far. Eight months and fifteen days ago he had gone to Phoenix, to put it lightly. At that time Victoria had been searching around Forks, gathering information.
