The Twilight 25

Prompt: Patience

Pen name: justaskalice

Category: Canon

Character: Alice

Rating: K+


She has been alone for as long as she can remember, not that the notion of memory means anything to her. She has no memories from the time before the burn. She cannot recall a time when she was not surrounded by trees and bird calls.

She is blank.

The visions take her by surprise at first, but after a day or so she will slide in and out of them with ease, barely even startled when one washes over her.

The man in the first vision is tall and fair. His eyes are a dark shade of red. His face is twisted into a deep frown and his skin is marked with scars, too many to count. His eyes flash and it's almost like she can see into his soul. She knows him, and she knows that she should be frightened. He's feral; a killer. Despite that knowledge, all she wants to do is get closer to him. Then the vision shifts, and his eyes turn a light, tawny gold. His scarred face breaks out into a joyous smile, and he is joined by a tiny woman with feathery black hair. They laugh and embrace, and he spins her around. Her feet fly out into the air as they dance, but he doesn't drop her. Somehow she knows he would never drop this woman.

Then she blinks, and the two fade into nothingness. The forest appears in front of her again. Time has passed; through the leaves she can see that the sun has moved marginally across the sky. She wonders briefly how she knows about such things.

The next second she's distracted by a flash of fire down her throat. The burn reminds her of the last thing she remembers, twisting and screaming and flailing out against the pain. She knows there is an appropriate response to the fire, but she can't grasp what that might be. She struggles with it for a moment, shuffling through nonexistent memories. It's no use. She simply doesn't know.

And then her eyes slide back and she's lost in another vision. This time she sees two men standing in a patch of trees. They're talking, but she can't quite make out their voices. She focuses on the details: how the blond man makes small, defined gestures and how the taller man with the shock of reddish brown hair seems to always be in motion, full of nervous energy. The blond man reaches out and grabs the tall man's arm, stopping his constant twitching. He shakes his head firmly and then speaks, his lips moving slowly and deliberately. The tall man relaxes slightly, though his eyes continue to dart about.

Suddenly, there is a shift in the wind. Her eyes, if that's what she's seeing with, recognize the way the needles on the pine tree near the blond man ripple and sway. The two freeze for an instant, and then they're off. The vision follows them, keeping its laser sharp focus. The men encounter a herd of deer, and they attack before the animals can scatter completely. The blond latches onto the throat of a large buck, tackling it to the ground. The other man grabs a doe nearby. He bites through the hide near the doe's shoulder and blood drips down his chin.

She blinks and the men are gone. The burn returns, stronger this time. Flames claw their way up her throat, and she shudders at its renewed force. She knows what she has to do now, because the vision has shown her.

The burn starts to diminish with her first kill, and while it doesn't disappear she is able to get comfortable again by gorging herself. It surprises her how easy it is to tackle such large animals and bite through skin and hair and sinew. It's thrilling and terrifying all at once. Her mind recognizes the way her prey seems much larger than her and the impossibilities of her speed and strength. She banishes the questions with a quick shake of her head. The fire is the most important thing. Stop the burning. Plenty of time for answers after that.

An hour and six kills later, she is resting in a small clearing by a stream. She can feel where blood has coated her lips and chin. It's dried and crusty; not uncomfortable, but she doesn't exactly care for the sensation.

She leans over the stream, and sunlight breaks through the clouds above. The face of a woman is reflected there: the same woman from her first vision. She smiles and the woman smiles back. She stretches out her hand, and the sun catches on her skin. It glitters, and words flicker through her mind. Diamonds, glass, rhinestones. She stares, fascinated.

Something about the glitter triggers another vision. Before she can fully register the sensation, she's falling forward into it. The fair-haired man from her first vision is there again, this time dressed in an elegant coat and tails. He extends a hand just out of range of her sight, and when he pulls it back she is there again. The woman she now recognizes as herself dances into view.

She's wearing a ball gown, and it's exquisite. The satin bodice shines under some unknown light, and the full skirt swishes, revealing matching satin slippers. Sparkling stones glisten at her throat and on her ears, and she can see a blue gem on her left hand.

The man smiles down at her and says something. She can almost hear his voice, but he stops talking before she can focus enough. His lips curve into a devastating smile and he dips her back, pressing closer. When she straightens up, he lowers his face to hers and kisses her passionately. She responds hungrily, reaching into his tousled gold hair and gripping fiercely. His hand caresses her bare shoulder, then her back. His fingers creep toward where the dress is fastened, but before anything else happens her vision clears and she's staring at her own face in the clear water again.

The sudden shift pulls her attention to the differences between her vision-self and the one she sees in the water below. Besides the blood that's caked on her chin, her hair is matted and sticks to her head. There is a dirt smudge on her forehead. And then there's her clothing. She's wearing some sort of short-sleeved shift. The fabric is a loose weave, and it feels rough against her skin. It is dirty and torn. Clumps of dirt and leaves cling to the hem, and droplets of blood have stained her collar. She frowns, thinking she prefers the ball gown.

Night is falling now. The sun drops behind the clouds, and the sky is painted in dark purples and blues. The wind picks up, howling through the trees. She can feel it on her skin, but she doesn't feel the chill. Nevertheless, it seems wrong to sit exposed.

She takes off through the trees, running quickly and soundlessly. She is barefoot, but the forest floor doesn't hurt her feet. Quite the contrary, running is fantastic. She sprints full out, not heading anywhere in particular and enjoying pushing her body as hard as she can. A host of new sensations attack her limbs, all of them pleasurable. As she dodges through the trees, branches whip against her arms and legs. It tickles, and she laughs out loud. She stops suddenly at the sound of her voice. She smiles and laughs again, reveling in the way her voice seems to tinkle like bells into the silence of the forest.

She sees a stand of pines grouped tightly enough to block the wind, so she rolls under the branches and pulls her knees into her chest. The wind moans and ruffles her hair, and she watches with fascination as leaves dance by her hiding place.

And just like that she's slipping into another vision. This time she's standing in a room with pale wood floors and white walls, and she is surrounded by people she now recognizes. The blond man is there, although his tall friend is not. She is holding the hand of her golden headed dance partner. Three others have joined them, two women and another man. Her vision-self looks radiantly happy, and she speaks, her mouth moving rapidly.

Without conscious effort on her part, the vision sharpens and narrows, and for the first time she hears sound associated with the vision. Music is issuing from a record player in the corner. Her vision-self has finished speaking and is looking expectantly at the blond man.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Alice," he says, looking at her and smiling. "And Jasper," he addresses her partner. "We don't often meet others of our kind who practice our... special diet."

The vision loosens and fades quickly then, and, as if exhausted by the effort, she feels her body slouch forward. She rests her forehead on her arms and thinks about what she has just seen. She has a name.

Alice.

Is it really her name, or is it the one she has given herself? Is the vision a memory, or simply some far-off dream? Has she met these people, or will she on some future date? She doesn't know. But she's willing to wait, and watch, and learn.

"I'm Alice," she whispers. They are the first words she has ever spoken, but no one hears them. That will have to wait.

A/N: Thanks to daisy3853 for putting her meanpants on for this one.