Indescribable: A Twilight Fanfiction
Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or any of its characters.
Author's Note: Not a lot to say here, except for (oh boy!) another Blackwater fic. seriously needs more of these. I love them. ;D
There is always something about Leah Clearwater.
Jacob can't ever put a finger on exactly what it is, other than impossible to ignore. When he is a wolf, her thoughts are the slightest whisper of a breeze in his mind, always there and yet hardly ever readable—when you are someone like her, you learn to not focus, to refuse to let your emotions take direction. When he is a man, he doesn't miss the feel of her in his head, because Jacob doesn't need such a trivial prompt to keep her on his mind. What ever that 'something' is, it is enough to make her presence constant.
Eventually, Jacob begins to associate the rapid vertigo of Leah's thoughts with her company, which leads to his always knowing when she's there. It startles him when he greets her as she walks up silently behind him—consciously, he never expects it. Leah alternates between disdainful amusement and amused disdain (the difference, when Jacob learns to recognize it, is shocking), and unlike the former, she learns to expect his absentminded acceptance of her presence. She's glad that he never takes it for granted, though, he can tell, because Leah is taken for granted to often, as far as he's concerned.
Leah Clearwater is coldly radiant, and distantly beautiful.
It always embarrasses Jacob when he's caught by one of his friends—or worse, Leah (although that doesn't happen often, because as she's learned to remove her own thoughts from the public mainframe, she's learned to block everyone else's)—thinking of her as a goddess. But it's the only comparison he knows how to make in her perfection. She's tall for a woman, although not for a wolf; her six feet, one inch is a far cry from his own height. But there's strength in her sharply shaped cheekbones, high forehead, and proudly curved mouth, and Jacob thinks that anyone who misses it, even when she's in her wolf skin, must be blind.
Under the strength, though, Leah's very female, and he notices that as well. Even muscled, she's still slender and elegant when she walks, although it's a very controlled kind of grace. Her eyes are brown, although at first and maybe second glance, anyone would think that they were as black as her hair, but in the light, one who studies her (although Jacob would swear up and down he didn't) might see the flecks of amber and bronze in her irises. They're framed by dark eyelashes and high brows, which, when coupled with her skin glittering gold in the sun, make her look very expressive. She's not, though, of course—one would most certainly not have to be blind to be unable to read Leah. It was that detachment that made her godlike.
She's fierce and independent; slow to trust and impossible to break.
Not so far beneath her unreadable surface, Leah Clearwater is feisty and passionate. She may not give a damn if you were just anyone, but give her a cause, and her determination will lay siege to anything—and anyone. She doesn't leave goals un-scored, standards unmet. Leah fights with endurance and strength and the pure, heated desire to win, to finish what she came to do. Jacob can't help but admire a girl who knows what she wants and who fights to get it, who refuses to wait quietly for it to be brought to her. Leah learned early that the good things that come to those who wait were just leftovers from those who got there first, and she takes the lesson to heart.
She is also unhesitant to remind anyone and everyone that she doesn't need any of them, doesn't need anyone. Not so deep down inside, Leah is a one woman show, and Jacob thinks that that's why she takes the whole pack thing so hard. She was hurt once, and hurt badly; but Sam didn't break her (God knows, Jacob fears whatever can break her, if such a thing exists) and what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Leah took that particular lesson to heart, too, and that explains the small but durable fortress she's put up around her heart, her mind, her body. Jacob discovers that somehow, she has not only taught herself not to need, but not to want, as well.
She doesn't just pretend to possess control, she has it—and flaunts it.
Her restraint stays firmly in place, even when she makes love to Jacob, but it isn't the frigid kind. No, she is anything but frigid—there's heat in her lips and her hips, and sometimes (although Jacob thinks he imagines it) a certain kind of desperation. Leah needs control like some people need oxygen; she needs to call the shots, because then no one can hurt her. Or, at least, that's what Jacob figures. Of course, he's careful to hide his psychoanalysis from her when they're both running (not that that's hard, because even as a wolf, Leah's sleek and fast and awesome, which gives him plenty of other things to think about), because she would laugh without amusement, and tell him off for romanticizing her. Leah prefers to be a bitch.
Jacob can't begin to describe how amazingly terrifying it is to loose control when he is with her, because often, it means he is the one being hurt. Leah is a sadist, plain and simple. Sometimes, it makes him nervous, but the edgy feeling gives him an animalistic kind of high, so even though he isn't in to that kind of stuff, even though Jacob prefers to take and manipulate and dictate, he lets Leah run the show. Or at least, that's what he tells himself. The truth is, Jacob loves the submission only Leah can dreg out in him, with that something she has that melts his very bones. Deep down (and Leah knows it, too) Jacob only pretends that he lets Leah have control.
There is something about her, and it captivates him.
Jacob knows that her tough girl attitude isn't an act, isn't a face that she puts on for the world. No, if nothing else, she's always completely and honestly Leah. But Jacob does recognize that her scathing sarcasm and sneering comments are only one aspect of her. He's careful to hide that from her, too, in fear that if she feels that he is going soft on her, she'll stop having the moments where her normal mannerisms slip, and Jacob values seeing the other sides of her.
Occasionally, Leah will slow down when she des patrols with Jacob, allowing him to catch up so that he might run with her. He usually takes advantage of the moment to practice comprehending her flurry of thoughts that she hides from him and the pack. They are shaded by the canopy of leaves created by trees grown closely together, walking in parallel lines several yards apart (because even when Leah's in a good mood, she doesn't like to stand so close that what she and Jacob have might actually be mistaken for companionship). Of course, as soon as she realizes what he's trying to do, she speeds back up again, because no one sees Leah except on her terms, which are practically nonexistent.
Jacob doesn't know what it is about Leah Clearwater, but he loves her.