To Didyme; for she dared to live.
Disclaimer: These characters are all mine. I have only based a few chapters dedicated to what I believed Marcus to have felt when Didyme died. This is in no way affiliated with Stephenie Meyer and her characters. My first story-ish, so...I'd like feedback? Constructive, please. :3 Luffles and truffles!
Remind Me, Rewind Me
Mason's fingers just barely traced over the white sheets where her silhouette had once laid, staring blankly past the head of the bed, marveling at the blended purples of the sunset. He was careful not to disturb the sheets though—the imprint of her was still there, undisturbed for centuries. He didn't want to ruin the one thing that still existed of her—it had been so perfectly preserved.
But no matter how many times he tried to shake the thoughts from his mind—they wouldn't go away. The memory of her haunted him constantly and it would continue to for as long as he could live—if that's what he was. He scoffed at the word that mortals had begged for—and would never know the consequence. Would they even bother to ask? Mason hadn't. Not while he'd had his love by his side.
He scoffed at his thoughts. He sounded like an idiot. An idiot in love. Or used to be. Mason's thoughts could not linger on one thing for long until finally reaching a point where they became unbearable to listen to. He did not want to hear the sound of his own voice. He wanted to hear hers'.
Forever had held a promise between the two. An unspoken promise of life—being an everlasting creature. It was a beautiful and breathless thing—before it, in a breeze, was swept away.
Eternity would have passed with a blink of an eye with her bounding into his arms to greet him after a long departure. Eternity would have been breathless—the feeling she would always give him.
And her smile. Always the same. Charming, enticing—yet always a different edge to it. Whether it be amused, bitter-sweet, or her innocent, but oh, so mischievous smile. Her smile—it had been home.
Just her presence had eased the weight of being royalty off of his shoulders and brightened the world on even the gloomiest of days. Her presence had something special about it—an aura.
Unusual, others might have called it—that she had a fascination for rain. Gloomy, dark, dangerous. But the darkness was lost in her light. They stood no chance against her. Beautiful. Bright. Breathless.
The halls had always echoed with her voice—her laughter. She was like a seashell that had been taken from the ocean—all you had to do was listen. She did not feel as if she needed to yell out to the world to be heard. The world owed it to her to listen.
He turned an ear to every sound that echoed in the tower that had once held his love—his angel. No. An angel. She was not his. He had no right to own her. Her spirit was too free to be confined within these walls, let alone stuck with him. Boring, excluded Mason.
She was not his angel. What right did he have to make her stay?
The sheer thought of his beautiful, innocent, sweet, beauty had nearly brought him to tears—but alas, he could not shed tears for her. Not a single one.
Over and over again, he heard her voice, saw her face, and felt her touch. His memories were so vivid, so painfully clear that it was the only real thing in Mason's life. He wouldn't—couldn't—allow himself to let her memory die as everyone else had done. He was nothing like them—she had made him realize that Mason was Mason. Nobody could ever change that or manipulate it in any way—except her.
Everything else didn't matter—it wasn't alive—not like it had been with her. Everything he touched, everything he saw—it was all pointless. All lifeless. All deprived of her smile, her touch, and her words.
The memories were so exact—branded into his brain—it was almost like she was there. Almost like she was winking at him from behind the corner. Almost like she peered her head out of her chambers to giggle at the sight of him. It was so exact, that every time they ended, it was like losing her all over again.
Just a pile of ash she had been discovered. The floor had blackened at the spot where she had been found. 'Found' would have been an overstatement. She was never lost. She had found her own way out of this world that had condemned her into quarantine. It wasn't right . . . she had been smite upon by one who believed she was a threat. A threat! Innocent, gentle towards the roughest of situations, sweet to the most bitter issues—a threat!
This infuriated Mason, enough to drive him to insanity for the one he loved. She was anything but a threat. What immortal had the right to take away the one thing he had held dear away? A truly soulless being indeed!
But Mason's fury was stale, withered. He couldn't bring himself to do anything about it but sit in his own pool of pain and wallow.
He stepped up to the balcony, and for a moment, he couldn't breathe. Not like he needed to—but he drew in a breath and detected her sweet scent. He knew it by heart after so many nights of lying beside her, fingers intertwined as her voice took a hold of his heart, ripping it out of his chest and taking it into her delicate hands and smothering it with her very memory.
Mason opened his eyes after noticing that they had been closed for quite some time and placed his hands upon the exact place on the balcony's rails where her hand would be, a jolt of pain flickering through his body as he realized—there was nothing. That emptiness left a sting.
This was where he recalled all the memories. Of his life—before, during, and after her. Every night, he renewed these memories, no matter the pain. Because he knew—there would always be something forgotten. Something untold. Something so close to reaching, yet he couldn't get to the bottom of it. On this night, it had been her name.
Each memory brought the pain of her gone but he needed to reassure himself that she was still there. Implanted directly into his mind in a way where he would never forget.
She was not gone. She was free.
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