Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight characters, I only play with them.
Plot: Edward Cullen's routine is changed by Bella's intrusion, first in his dreams and then, in reality. The problem is that he's got a girlfriend, Tanya. How is he gonna handle this while Tanya lives very far from him and that he's attracted to Bella? EPOV. AU. AH. Rated M for lemons.
The song of the chapter is All apologies by Nirvana.
The chapter is completely poetic but if you feel brave enough to go to the next chapter, you'll be glad to see that I stopped my lyrism^^.
Translation: KaoriSolaris and my wonderful beta: Bluelinote.
Chapter 1 : As I was Dreaming...
Night... Such beauty. What could possibly be more extraordinary than the vision of the Mighty Shadow brushing burning flames of darkness across oceans and continents to soothe and calm the world ? Yet, in the movement, She would also choose the ones she wished to reveal Herself to, and would offer them a part in Her most terrifying plots. As usual, nobody would notice... Did I just say 'nobody' ? Well, that is quite a mistake for such a mind as mine. Because I ignore nothing of that which deals with Night. I remember one person, a writer it was, who, though he could not actually see the scary face of Night, did suspect its existence, just as one can sometimes sense the danger lurking from its den, or perceive Death's presence so clearly that one can almost smell His seductive stench. Dino Buzzatti was the name. The man had turned his eyes into stars and had sneaked into Night's realm in order to discover Her hideous secrets.
But, hold on, I have got so lost in my thinking that I did not even introduce myself. If it weren't for my official number - the pass without which I could not be here today, telling you about stories that happened to me, I mean stories of my own, not just stories that might have happened to some name by which I would sign off my letters or be called in the street - without that number, then, I would be little more than a vague idea tossing, one moment subdued, obnoxious the next ; turning, at times important, light and frivolous at others ; reeling, brilliant or arcane in turns, within the confines of a body - my body, for that matter.
The story I have to tell you is extraordinary. At least, such did it seem to me as I lived it, at a time when I had given up expecting anything from the Night, of Whom I already knew the most beautiful sighs, the sweetest moans, the most frightful sobs and all the secret wanderings.
The most beautiful night I had ever witnessed was settling in over seas and lands, men and beasts and plants, over the four winds and the elements - as delicately as a butterfly alighting on a flower petal - drawing the final curtain on one long and stifling July, 23rd. Just as every night, I had taken an armchair out into the garden, and sitting outside the house, quiet though perfectly focused, I was as usual gazing up at the sky.
I was observing the colours of the night. What amazing hues it could take on from one year to the next, depending on the seasons, the temperatures of the days, varying from month to month, from day to day, changing by the minute, by the second even. I could make out up to 52 distinct shades, and as I discovered each one in turn, I noted it down on a small spiral-bound book I kept carefully hidden behind a shelf. Of all these nightly shades, the perfectly black one was my favorite, as it smoothly spread like China ink over all shapes and other colours, swallowing the world up and remodeling it only to let it be born again at sunrise. I was also reviewing the shapes Night would take on ; sometimes fluid and light and graceful, womanly and sacred, sometimes heavy and dark, somewhat evil. I was all eyes, taking in the silent whispers of the sky, the singing of the stars, the soft rustling of the moon's orb gliding upon its salted shroud, the quiet stars beneath the thick and troubling dark cloak.
Love-struck, I was gazing up at the Night as she wrapped around me in an attempt to lift me up, to cut me loose from reality and to pull me in into Her dreamlands. And just as every night, I resisted to Her call. For I knew - a not infrequent frightening certainty - that if I gave in, she would never again let me come to Her, or allow me to see Her naked, all Her secrets laid bare, the way she was that night. Her coy smile cutting through the fabric of stars would never again remind me of how ugly the world was in the daylight glare. That night, then I kept looking at Night, on and on, ever reporting in my book the colours she made Herself up, the shapes she chose to appear in ; the mystery of her intentions, of her whereabouts and ventures ; the glow on her curves and the sadness in her ink-black eyes ; her hands like doors to the land of dreams and her womb like a den for each and every fiend. And she danced for me as she was trying to take me in and carry me away ; indeed, among the subtle jingling of the stars she danced, and their enthralling harmonies stirred up the strangest needs in me.
Yet, though I was giving myself over to the visions, I did not lose my focus. Because great Night was my all beautiful and most dedicated Mistress, and she was putting me to the test : I had to win her graces. The whirling halo the stars formed around her only seemed to enhance her ethereal gracefulness ... Then, something caught my eye...