Chapter 3 – Something Unexpected
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Edward brooded.
He perched in a tree overlooking his house, his fingers steepled underneath his chin as he thought.
The last thing he ever expected to happen actually had happened, and he was in a state of denial about it, though he would never admit this to himself. Instead he chose to reflect on the incident which had occurred mere hours ago, only feet away from where he was sitting.
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Edward let his fingers dance upon the ivory keys, playing too softly for any but his own kind to hear. He didn't like the brash, loud sounds of this world, and silence came so much easier to him. So he played quietly, letting himself enjoy one of the things that earth could offer him.
It was another tumultuous day . . . or night he supposed, briefly lifting his gaze to glance out of the window. It always seemed to be raining here, or storming, or hailing. The rumble of thunder off in the distance sent a twinge of irritation down his spine. Always so noisy, he thought. Not for the first time, he wished he could tone down the efficiency of his hearing.
He could almost hear Jasper in his head, laughing at him. He was always dismissing Edward's less than jovial moods with a flick of his hand, a rolling of his eyes. He couldn't seem to understand why Edward hated earth so much, when Jasper was having the opposite experience. What Edward found repulsive, Jasper found delightful, annoyances were quirks and irritations were delights that should be appreciated, not snubbed.
Edward usually left then, liking his solitary considerably more than Jasper's misplaced enthusiasm.
It didn't matter though. In just a month all of this would be over. He would say goodbye to earth with all the enthusiasm of Jasper's he could muster, confident in the assurance that he would never have to set eyes on it ever again.
Almost smiling at the prospect of returning home, Edward's fingers glided faster over the keys, his hands just a quick blur of movement. He could hear the rustle of the trees outside and the pelting of rain on the windows, saw the quick flash of lightning that lit up the room and felt the thunder resound in his bones, but for a moment it all faded away as an overwhelming surge of pure relief washed over him.
Soon.
It was short lived, however.
A loud bang echoed in his ears, and his fingers abruptly stopped moving.
He didn't need to strain his ears to hear any better; he heard the whispered okay clear enough.
Edward froze. There was a human inside of his house.
He stared blankly at the piano keys in front of him for a moment, uncomprehending. He wasn't equipped to deal with a situation like this . . . to deal with a human.
So when he finally became animated again, his movements were stilted and rough, so unlike the motions of grace that were otherwise second nature to him. He rose to his feet slowly, at the same time he heard the human's move forward – once, twice – and then stop.
The relief that had previously filled up his chest was replaced with a surge of dread. His feet wouldn't move. He contemplated simply staying where he was until the human vacated his residence. They had to leave at some point, surely? And what did it matter if they didn't, anyway? He would be gone in a month.
But then irritation replaced the dread, so thick and hot that he felt his skin blaze with the ensuing heat. He didn't want this human in his home, soiling and tainting his last month. He was certainly eager to leave this place behind, but it was if suddenly all of his rage against the primitive species came swelling up, leaving behind only a dam of repulsion.
This human had no right, he thought. And he wanted them gone.
Now.
So with a temper as black as the night outside, he forced his feet to move and strode from the room. He was on the other side of the house, but his steps were still inherently silent. He glided over the wooden floors, stirring only dust particles in his wake. His intention had been to scare the intruder away; with his mood as it was it would have been so easy. But when he neared the entrance hall, he stopped.
He just stopped.
And then immediately, he was up in the rafters.
From there, he stared down at the crumpled figure on the floor. Even in the dark, his adept eyes were able to see the human so clearly.
He didn't know what he'd expected to see . . . but it wasn't this.
They were so small. That was the first thing he noticed. Now, he was no expert on humans in any capacity, but in the many years he'd been around he hadn't gotten by without seeing any humans before. They were littered all over the earth, crawling on every surface likes billions of ants, so it was an inevitability. But he hadn't realised they were so . . . small.
This human looked positively miniature curled up like that, like some of the young offspring he'd seen before. A child.
Though he supposed most of them were children compared to him.
The second thing he noticed was the hair. Long, so long, it spiralled down the humans legs they were currently hugging. He wasn't sure why his eyes kept trailing up and down the long, brown strands. Perhaps because they seemed to be hiding everything else.
Hiding from what? He thought.
Then he noticed the shaking.
The human's shoulders were shuddering, getting more forceful the longer he watched. He tilted his head to the side, trying to observe the figure from every angle.
Why? He wondered. Is this something that they do? A defence mechanism against possible threats?
He thought that if this was the case, then it wasn't a very good one. If anything, the trembling only served in making the human seem . . .
He wasn't sure.
But he definitely didn't feel threatened.
In fact, he found he didn't feel much of anything. All of that earlier dread and rage had fizzled out, leaving him feeling strangely . . . empty.
He felt hollow.
His fingers gripped the rafters tightly, but still, he watched the human.
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"Having your habitual sulk?"
Edward was pulled out of his musings by Jasper, who suddenly appeared on the branch next to him. He scowled at his friend.
"Celestial beings don't sulk, Jasper," he said irritably, before he lifted his wings and disappeared from sight.
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A/N: So . . . thoughts? Did we see that coming?
That isn't the end of the flashback, just so you know. Jasper just got impatient and interrupted.
See you soon!