For the record, I own nothing but Elinor. if I owned anything more, well, I wouldn't be living in a town that wants to secede from the union now, would I? Anyways, I, The Blind Pirate, do not own anything. So please, call off the mean men in the funny suits. They aren't needed. : )
Locked in a dark room, a young woman huffed in annoyance and rolled her eyes. The desktop lamp that provided the only light in the spacious room illuminated an aged tabletop covered in various books, journals, miscellaneous papers, and records. Her long, pale, delicate-looking fingers traced over the words of a letter.
"Miss Platt" the letter began formally,
"It is with great regret and with our most sincere condolences that we at Grishan & Co inform you of your late father's death. Your presence is requested at both his funeral and the reading of his will, or if you are indisposed, you are asked to send a family member or legal personnel in your place.
Sincerely,
Jonathan Grishan
Theodore Howze"
Well, she thought idly, it wouldn't be the first time she had to pose as one of her own offspring. Luckily, this time, she was of age to have a granddaughter with her physical appearance. In all the time Elinor Adrienne Platt had existed, she hadn't aged past her eighteenth birthday – the day she had died.
Sent to her London cousins soon after her birth in February of 1930, Elinor had lived in total ignorance of both her mother and her father. She lived according to her Uncle William and Aunt Mary's rules, believing that she had come from Underhill with the faeries. Her small stature and dark coloring – save her mother's brilliant blue eyes – supported that theory until she reached puberty and grew to a whopping 186 cm, too tall to have been a changeling. And, as her relatives never ceased reminding her, too tall for a proper lady.
It was while escaping from such caustic comments that Elinor met her demise.
London, at night, is never a place a respectable young lady wanted to be, much less in a dark alleyway in the slums of town. But that was where Elinor found herself fleeing her cousin George's malicious attention. A fight had been initiated during dinner; one of George's friends, a Harold Mayhew, had expressed his intention to George of pursuing Elinor for her hand. George had brought up the subject over dinner, and while Elinor reacted with abject horror, William and Mary seriously considered the offer.
Harold was higher up in society than the Crofts, he had served honorably in the Royal Air Force for the beginning of the war before he had been shot down and removed from active duty, and he was wealthy, fully capable of supporting Elinor comfortably for the rest of her life. The only things they did not consider before urging their niece to accept the offer was Elinor's personal opinion of the man, and the character of the man, for George was known to associate with well-known rakes and ruffians of the highest order, all of them pathological liars, gamblers, and occupied in less-than-honorable ways.
Refusing to even consider Harold as a possibility for her future, Elinor ran from her family's persuasions, being followed out the door by an insistent George. He had chased her past Baker Street, on to King's and deep into London's busy epicenter. There, she ducked into a small, darkened alleyway and pressed her back to a doorway near the middle, partially hidden by the indented doorframe. She breathed in and out slowly, methodically, to make less noise and keep her heartbeat steady. A cat passed by her feet, rubbing gently on her shins before she quietly shooed it away, nudging it softly with her foot.
A few moments passed before she saw George's shadowy form pass the alley, disregarding the black tunnel that he thought she would never hide in. He ran on, searching in vain for his errant cousin. A couple minutes more, and Elinor sighed in relief; she was safe from the influence of her overbearing relatives. Her plan at the moment consisted of nothing more than escaping London and traveling somewhere else. Perhaps her local friends in the RAF could help her find a plane flying out of the county willing to take on an extra passenger.
After carefully scanning the empty streets for George's lumbering figure, Elinor stepped out onto the road, a free woman for the first time in her life. Whistling cheerfully to herself as she practically skipped down the sidewalk, she swung her hands as if she were a child again, and twirled about in the mist.
A noise behind her made her stop and check once again for signs of George. A quick scan revealed nothing, though she thought she could make out a lithe, shadowed form coming from her alley about a quarter-kilometer back. Urgency suddenly laced her steps as she noticed the form approaching her much faster than she had anticipated. One last time, she had turned around, nearly running again, only to catch sight of a man in the air, coming down from a leap right on top of her. Before her world went black, Elinor saw his perfect white teeth coming down on her shoulder and his menacing red eyes gleaming with an unholy light as his body came crashing down upon hers with the force of several automobiles.
When she regained consciousness, she had no idea how long she had been unconscious, no idea where she was, no idea whose face was hovering over her own. The man, so she had determined as she opened her eyes, ricocheted back when she tried to sit up.
"I wouldn't recommend that." He advised sagely, "You're still adjusting."
"And what am I adjusting to?" Elinor questioned, not quite sure what the man was referring to; she felt a bit battered, but normal nonetheless.
He gave her a strange look and leaned in, bright green eyes shining with sympathy. "What do you think happened before you fainted?"
She shook her head, struggling to recall the events of that night. "George was chasing me, so I hid in an alleyway. He didn't think I'd hide there and passed on, so I left. It was foggy. A man followed me, but he wasn't George. He… bit me?"
"He was, quite literally, after your blood." The strange man answered, turning his head ever so slightly to look out the door, "Linael here found you shortly thereafter, the vampire still drinking from you. He brought you to us, and, well, we had to make… improvements to save your life."
Elinor peered curiously at another man who had just entered the room, and then turned back to the green-eyed man above her. "What adjustments?" she demanded, a threat lacing her voice.
The man flinched. "Well," he began, "your maternal grandmother was one of us, and your exposure to Underhill as a child seems to have brought out her dominant traits. When you came to us, we didn't have much of a choice. So we replaced your human blood with some of ours; vampire venom doesn't affect us like it does the mortals."
She looked helplessly around the room, unwilling to say out loud the truth she suddenly understood.
"You're fae now," the second man, Linael, informed her. We could either intervene or let you live a mockery of life, a half-life if you will, dying because of the poison in your system, yet unable to pass on because of your immortal heritage."
"Immortal heritage?" she questioned faintly, "My mother's mother?" At Linael's nod, she continued, "but my mother died when I was four. Suicide. She jumped off a cliff. She died. I can't be immortal. I just can't be."
"Let me assure you that you now are. You will not age, and you cannot be harmed save by iron weapons. For the time being, Denoriel and I will be your guards, your escorts, and your teachers Underhill." Linael informed her. "You are to meet with Queen Titania and King Oberon tomorrow morning. Your grandmother, Elysia, was a great favorite of theirs, and they have requested your presence."
Elinor cast her eyes down and idly picked at the seams of the flawless quilt covering her exhausted body. "Great," she mumbled, "first day in faerie and I'm already going to embarrass myself in front of royalty."
Denoriel looked up sharply. "Do not be so sure." His voice held the same razor-edged quality his glance conveyed, "I believe that if you trust your instincts, you will know exactly how to behave. All of the fae do. And no matter what you think, you are one of us."
At Elinor's frantic look, Linael made the decision to do what Denoriel should have first considered. "Sleep." He commanded, watching silently as her eyes drifted shut. For now, she would rest and recover, but come morning, she would be put to the test as Elysia's granddaughter. It was a test he both feared and hoped she would pass.
Okay, so I know it doesn't have much to do with Twilight now, but it will. So far, pretty much, Elinor is immortal , but not a vampire. She'll meet the famous Cullens later on, but until then...