Edward: Comet
She's a streak of brilliancy in his night sky. She's blinding to him, a laughing comet blushing and stumbling her way into his life. When he steps back, lets the meteor fall out of his line of sight, he can't quite blink her afterimage away. She's liquid moonshine under his eyelids; she's in his head, in his heart; he can't stop seeing her, no matter what he does. Her glowing face follows him, but it's her light vanishing over the horizon that haunts him. She's left crisscrossing trails of bliss behind his lids, and he can't see the stars anymore.
Bella: Weakness
He's her biggest weakness, but far from her only one. Her compassion, her need to protect, her willingness to sacrifice, all make her an easy target. But with him around, she's practically got a bull's-eye painted on her forehead. Their love is so apparent, so obvious and so there, that anyone with ill intent can clearly see the way to get to her. Her loved ones are always her first concern; she would gladly give her life to protect any of them. In fact, she already has. She's already an open door, but it never hurts to have the key.
Jasper: Hands
He hates his hands. They're not literally bloodstained anymore, but the scars, physical and emotional, are proof enough of what he's done. These hands have killed, have murdered humans and immortals alike, have been instruments of dead-hearted slaughter. They look so innocent, folded placidly in his lap, but he knows better than to let himself be fooled by appearances. He hates the long, elegant fingers that once wore blood like a pair of form-fitting gloves; he hates the light fists that can snap necks so easily. But most of all, he hates the way his hands look next to hers.
Jacob/Bella: Sun
Just one smile, one single ray of sunlight, breaks through her clouds. The rest of him promptly follows, slipping easily past her barriers, shining straight into her broken heart. He's warm and cheerful, a stark but welcome contrast to what she knows, to the icy, restrained love she's used to. He's pleased that he's different; he wants to make his own place in her heart, not fill someone else's. She's grateful, too-- No painful memories this way, only new ones, pleasant hours whiled away in blissful togetherness. He's got his own special nook in her heart, and he knows it.
Rosalie: Strength
Everyone assumes that he's there to protect her, to be her strength. But she's perfectly capable of defending herself, and not just from physical attacks. Her tenacity is a learned thing, built from years of loneliness and resentment. Too much hurt. She's bitter but caring, vain but maternal. Too little love. She relies on that inner strength more than she lets on. She detests the idea of having to curl into a ball for protection. So she retreats inside herself, drawing on her incredible self-preservation and stubborn hope. She just wishes someone had been there to vote no for her.
I have about 35 deep, introspective drabbles, most of them exactly one hundred words, written down in my fanfiction binder. (Yes, I have a binder. Don't laugh.) They've been begging to be typed up, so I finally did. As you can see, they're all kind of vague, with no names or anything. Hence the titles. And, of course, I ripped off the books with the ideas for Edward's and Jacob's, as well as the last line of Rosalie's.
Nope. Don't own Twilight.
