TW: Rosalie and Kiera's assault is talked about, though not in explicit detail. Still, it will begin with and end with an * if you wish to skip it!
Chapter Text
Ramona's hand shook as she handed over the letter. It looked new, crisp. Beneath it was one yellowed by time, the edges crinkling beneath Kiera's fingertips. It smelt of the attic, musty, and a sense of stuffiness that choked her. The first letter was merely a single line, explaining that Marisol would be coming by soon, no explicit date written down. It felt like a warning shot, an echo forming in Kiera's ears as she let it drop to the floor.
The second letter wasn't a warning shot. It was a bullet straight to the heart. Her Tagalog reading comprehension has slowly faded from lack of use, but leave it to her mother to get straight to the point.
Daughter,
If you had awoken whilst I still was at your side, I would have gladly shared this bit of knowledge. But as it were, I am halfway across the world, letting the warm tropical sun of our motherland sink into my skin. One day, you should visit. It's truly an unparalleled experience.
I regret to inform you that there may be some inconsistencies with your Metamorphosis. When I'd met your father, I knew he was no ordinary man. With beautiful fiery hair and the most enchanting brown eyes, he had taken my breath away. Even his pointed ears and catlike pupils did nothing to detract from his beauty.
We'd only spent a week together, but he may very well be the love of my life. He was my mate- but I guess I wasn't his. Don't despair darling, you are something of a blessing, despite your many difficulties and faults.
You see my dear...you are a hybrid.
The rest of the world faded from view as Kiera's eyes zeroed in on possibly the worst word ever.
Hybrid.
Something in between, not belonging fully to either realm. It was a slap in the face, spit at her feet. Her entire world feels unmoored, and Kiera goes sinks to the ground.
Ramona crouches next to her, resting her forehead in-between Kiera's shoulder blades. "Your father is an Irishman. A Fae." She said softly.
She was being gentle with the words because she knew the damage she'd done, the wound she'd laid into Kiera when she'd said Kiera wasn't like a real Diwata, gaped in her chest now. It was a chasm of gore and teeth that groaned between her ribcage, demanding blood. She'd gone her entire life believing she was one thing, believing herself to be fully Diwata. Fully Filipino. All sense of belonging went straight out the window.
Little things start to make sense. Her name. Her height, taller than Ramona and taller than her mother. The differences in shades between them, from Kiera's sepia tone to her mother's rich oak skin. Her cousin, beautiful and brown like the earth, like the soil that they drew energy from. As a child, before she knew that beauty wasn't a box, she'd thought her mother and cousin to be the most beautiful women in the world. She'd only wanted to be beautiful, too, to match them.
Those thoughts had been her saving grace when she'd moved to the United States, submerged in a world of pale faces and light eyes. It'd kept her family roaming for decades, looking for a place to settle down that wouldn't turn them away or make them feel unsafe. And while she'd loved the South for its blistering beauty, it'd been hell as a brown-skinned family of only women.
"There's more." Ramona urges, her cold breath chilling Kiera's skin.
"How could there be more?" Kiera groans. "Is this not enough?"
"There is always more with your mother," Ramona grumbles. She lets out a frustrated sigh when Kiera doesn't answer her, barrelling into her version of being comforting.
"Listen to me. You are still my cousin, still my sister, even if your father is a ginger. What he is, does not take away from who you are. Now it may be confusing having both feet in a world each, but there is nothing wrong with you. You are still Filipino, still Diwata." Ramona said sternly.
"I've always wanted so badly to fit somewhere. Now where will I fit?" Kiera whispered, voice growing hoarse.
"Even if you turned out to be a ghoul, you'll always fit with me."
The two sat there for as long as Ramona could stand. The rest of the letter said heavy on her tongue, Kiera could tell, but Kiera didn't want any more terrible surprises. Life seemed to be storm after storm. When would they catch a break?
"What's the other news?" Kiera was desperate for something good. Maybe even a clue about her father. "What does this even mean for me? Are there others like me?"
"...You are the first and likely last of your kind," Ramona said softly. "Marisol thinks you might get your lightning abilities from your father. He'd been able to call upon storms. You just got the condensed version of his gift. Maybe that's why it sits so closely on your skin and doesn't appear in the sky."
"What is it you're not telling me?" Kiera whispered.
Ramona was silent for a moment, mulling over her words. "Your Death Day might be particularly difficult due to your mixed heritage, though we don't know for sure."
"Difficult how?" Kiera pressed.
"Difficult, as in, you might not wake up again."
She soaked it in, turning the words over and over in her head. Frantically, she searched through the letters to see if there was any more mentioning about her Faerie father, or her Death Day. Nothing. Instead, her mother had written about the possible places she might be staying at, and a love story that didn't last.
"She knew I'd awaken." Tears welled in her eyes and began to spill over. "She knew, and she's still not here. She knew I might die , and she's only coming now."
Ramona's grip on her tightens, and Kiera falls apart in her cousin's arms.
That night, Kiera dreams of lemon yellow eyes.
She feels like a balloon cut from its string, floating and floating, until she's finally gone. He howls with a force that rattles her bones and is gone before her eyes blessedly slide shut.
Kiera wakes up with a start, what's left of her heart beating like a wild drum in her chest. Sebastián had been perfect in the beginning, but they always are. An arranged marriage set up by her mother to boost the Villanueva's family name, to give them a leg up in a time that didn't accept them. Ramona had pointed out the cruel irony in Marisol setting up her Filipina daughter with an immigrant family from Spain, but Marisol had waved her off with a sneer.
He'd bring her flowers- not blue asters, which were her favorites- but pretty wine-colored roses. Kiera had thought it romantic, that they were simply a classic kind of flower. Sebastián had been so endearing in their first few months of courting that Kiera had written it off. After all, what girl didn't enjoy roses?
Now the scent of them made her retch. Her room suddenly felt like an oven, and she kicked off her blankets, just barely making it to the bathroom in time. Thick clots of blood splatter the porcelain bowl like perfect petals and Kiera heaves once more. Ramona ghosts into the room, her hand holding back Kiera's thick dark hair.
"Won't be long now." She murmurs. "Has Alice finished setting up the party?"
Kiera gives her a shaky nod, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand.
"Did you dream of it again?" Ramona asks, softer this time. "It always comes when you're stressed."
Kiera clenches her eyes shut. She could psychoanalyze herself all-day long, dig into why this dream had to be the one that pops up when times get tough. But she knows trauma just does what it wants sometimes. A boiling rage rushes through her, the unfairness of it all bringing on the familiar prickling of her fangs. The bowl shatters beneath her grip and Kiera dashes from the bathroom, pushing past Ramona who only pulls out her phone.
Ramona calls for a plumber without complaining once, silently moving about the house to deal with the mess herself. Kiera stalks back and forth on her dingy beige carpet, threatening to wear a path with her anger. Her new phone is in her hand a second later and she's calling Rosalie's number before she can even register it.
Rosalie immediately picks up. "Kiera?"
"Rose," Kiera shudders a breath. "Pick me up?"
The sound of Rosalie's BMW starting up brings a small smile to Kiera's face. "Be there soon. Would you like me to stay on the line?"
"You may be invulnerable, but that car of yours is not. Driving while on the phone is never a good idea." Kiera tugs anxiously at the ends of her hair, glancing towards her closet. With the way the Cullens drive, she should already be dressed and ready to go.
"The car is replaceable." Rosalie says quietly. It's the nicest thing she's ever said to Kiera thus far, and Kiera's heart swells in her chest.
"I'll be fine. I should get dressed anyways." She's already pulling on the first things her hands touch when Rosalie gives her okay and hangs up.
Some days, it's just the two of them. Curled up in Rosalie and Emmett's room, a random movie on the screen from Rosalie's vast collection, hushed laughter that only they partake in. Rosalie never pries on those days, only lets Kiera forget the world for a handful of hours. Apparently this has shocked Rosalie's coven into silence. Kiera wouldn't have known that this Rosalie wasn't the normal Rosalie if it weren't for the sheer disbelief mingling with the hope that crossed Esme and Emmett's faces.
They tended to look at Kiera with a hint of wonder and more than enough thanks. Maybe Rosalie had needed Kiera just as much as she needed her. Maybe she was reading into everything, hyper-aware of everyone's smallest expressions. Rosalie was steadfast in her pursuit of Kiera's time once the veil of indifference had been lifted. It was the kind of determination of one who'd spent years feeling desperately alone with a kind of pain nobody truly understood. Not unless you'd gone through it too.
When the time came for swapping stories, Kiera dropped the book she'd been reading and listened. Rosalie spoke like she was speaking of the weather. Disinterested, detached. But the way her jaw would tighten on Royce's name proved she wasn't as far removed from her trauma as she pretended.
"I'd been in love with the idea of love," Rosalie started, hands gentle as she painted Kiera's fingernails a pale pink. It was from Rosalie's personal collection, one not even Alice was privy to, and Kiera couldn't help but feel special.
"In love with my life." She laughed, a hollow sound. "My life was perfect. I was beautiful, rich, young- I was adored wherever I went, given privileges others were not. I hardly had to pay for things, people tripped over themselves to pay for me. My parents were strictly middle class, and I was their favorite child, despite my two younger brothers.
I hadn't known why for the longest time. All I'd known was that my father loved to buy me pretty dresses and that my mother spoke fondly of me to anyone who would listen. I can admit now I was spoiled. My entire life was exactly how I'd been taught to want it. My parents thought I should marry upwards, to give them even more wealth and a better social image. When Royce King came along, I'd thought I was getting my happy ending."
"But if any of us had gotten our happy ending, we'd be under gravestones."Rosalie paused, examining her work. The corners of her mouth had tightened and if she could, Kiera thought Rosalie would be crying about now.
"Royce was the ideal match. Rich, handsome, charming. He was older than me, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that he loved beautiful women, and I was the most beautiful in all of Rochester. So my mother sent me in my best dress to drop my father's lunch off at his work, which also happened to be the bank Royce's father owned.
Royce saw me and the courting started the next day. Roses, violets that matched my human eyes- they came to the door every day with handfuls of flowers. I couldn't go anywhere without smelling like a bouquet."
Kiera waited till her hands were dry before plucking a burgundy from the collection of nail polish, silently taking Rosalie's hand in her own and nodding for her to continue. Rosalie gave Kiera's hand a short squeeze and inhaled sharply.
"I've never envied anyone before. Not until my dearest friend Vera got married and had her little Henry. You remind me a lot of her, actually," Rosalie smiled, eyes lost in thought. "She didn't have much, but she had something I'd never known I'd wanted for myself. A husband to come home and kiss me, a beautiful baby with fat little cheeks. Did you want a baby before…?"
"No, not particularly," Kiera admitted. "It's the choice that I miss the most."
*"I knew you would understand," Rosalie breathed. "A baby is what I want more than anything in this world. I thought I'd have that with Royce. But Royce was a monster of the worst kind. One night I'd been walking home from Vera's when I came across him and a group of his friends. They'd been terribly drunk. I'd never seen him drunk, he hardly drank in front of me. That night, he reeked of alcohol. I'll spare you the details, but they'd left me in an alleyway. Thought I'd die.
I'd been unseasonably cold that night, and I kept waiting to die. Carlisle had smelt the blood and found me, but it was too late. He'd bitten me, hoping I'd make a good match for Edward. Obviously we didn't take to each other." Rosalie chuckled. "After that night, I'd hunted each of them down. I'd even saved Royce for last, so he would know I was coming. I was a bit more theatrical back then."
"Naturally," Kiera teased, blowing gently at the red polish.
"I'd stolen a wedding dress and killed the guards he'd hired to protect himself. Till this day I've never drunk from a human. I'd killed them, but I hadn't wanted any part of them in me ever again. It wasn't until I'd found Emmett that I'd felt any kind of happiness. But even then, it's only half of what it should be." Rosalie's voice was brittle, sounding almost ashamed of her own admission.
"I'm glad they are dead," Kiera confessed. "Otherwise I'd find them in their nursing homes and kill them myself. You can't fault yourself for feeling like something is missing, Rose. Emmett can't be all of your happiness."
"Do you think you'll ever fully be happy?" Rosalie's golden eyes turned glossy.
"I don't know. But I'd like to keep trying." Kiera said.
"Had they been someone you knew?" Rosalie asked.
Kiera carefully screwed the cap back on, drawing her knees in close. Sebastián's face through her mind and for the briefest of moments she thought she was going to be sick all over Rosalie's plush cream carpet.
"Yes." She said quietly. "Like you, I'd been engaged young. But unlike you, he'd been a dear friend."
Rosalie hissed through her teeth, closed her eyes briefly. When she'd opened them, they were pitch black with a deep rage. "He'd been your friend?"
"Yes. Is anyone in the house listening?" Kiera asked.
"Jasper and Emmett are out hunting. Carlisle is at work, Esme is in her garden, Alice is busy making your dress and she knows better than to listen in. Edward is with Bella at her house, but they should be coming soon." Rosalie supplied, freshly painted hands clenching tight at her sides.
"Good. I'll tell them when I want them to know," Kiera sighed. "His name was Sebastián, and his family had come from Spain a few generations before we met. My mother had encouraged our friendship, been thrilled I had managed to 'secure' him. His family was rich, the kinds with old money. His father hadn't been too pleased with me, thought I was too poor and too dark."
Rosalie snarled but let Kiera continue, her red lips twisting into a fierce scowl. Kiera raised an arm and watched in amusement as Rosalie slipped under it and set it around her shoulders like a shawl. Pressed side by side like this, Kiera felt a sense of strength fill her.
"But for some reason, he'd relented. Sebastián had been so kind, so soft-spoken before it all. He'd bring me to watch his card games. When he was feeling particularly generous, he'd give me a book or a dress. I hadn't loved him, not for the longest time. But then he began accompanying me in my long walks into the forest. His love for nature is what made me start to fall for him."
The memory was bittersweet to look back on. Uneasiness and nostalgia warred in her stomach, and Kiera had to take a moment to simply breathe.
"He knew almost as many plants as I did. Every day, I saw more and more of someone that I could learn to love."
"What changed?"
"The full moon came." Kiera glanced at Rosalie, who had gone stiff. "He was a Lycanthrope. I know your kind have hated his for many centuries, and despite his status, his family knew how to hide their secrets better than anyone."
"You survived a Child of the Moon?" Rosalie whispered hoarsely.
"Somehow, yes. It was on one of those walks, a year into our relationship, that everything went to hell. He'd been agitated the entire week, angrier than I'd ever seen him. Paranoid, too. Most of the time in that forest is blurry. Like it'd been purged from my mind when I went to sleep. But I'll never forget his claws tearing through my skin like scissors through a ribbon."
"When I woke, Ramona had explained my dress had been around my thighs and that my arm had almost come clean off. It'd been hanging by a thread."Kiera shivers, leaning into Rosalie's hold. "His walking suit had been rumbled, and he'd been muttering to himself. I could feel his hands trying to put me back together."
Both of them sat there, shaking together. Kiera was a live wire, raw and exposed, but she'd never felt more seen than she did at that moment. She'd keep it within her all these years in hopes she'd forget it, but it was bone-deep. She'd always remember.*
"Thank you for sharing," Rosalie whispered.
"Thank you . What are you thinking about?"
"How Bella is so unprepared for this life. If I'd have a choice, I would never have chosen this for myself. I feel like she's choosing wrong." Rosalie frowned, her blonde head resting on top of Kieras.
"But it's her choice, at the end of it all. You may not have wanted this life, but she isn't as blind to the faults as you think she is, Rosie. You may not understand it, but shouldn't she still get to choose?"
"I just don't want her to make a mistake and regret it later on. She gets to have everything I never did. She gets to grow old, have a family. The chance to pass away in her sleep." Rosalie said. "I envy her for it."
"Then envy her for it. But shutting her out or spitting upon her name for making a choice you don't agree with is a bit harsh, isn't it? We may not have chosen our lot, but we can't damn her for choosing hers."
After that, sometimes the others join them. Rosalie must really be protective of her DVD collection because a deep growl escapes her when someone barges in. On days Rosalie felt gracious enough, Bella was allowed to sit on the other side of Kiera and watch with them. It'd taken nearly seven of those days for Rosalie to crack.
"You should wear the dark blue. It looks nice on you." Rosalie said.
Bella dropped her the worn copy of Wuthering Heights, her eyes comically round. "Me?" She squeaked.
"No, the other human in the house," Rosalie snapped. "Forget it."
"No, you're right. I think it looks nice too," Bella rushed out. "Winter skin tones look best with blues right?"
"So you do listen when Alice speaks," The corner of Rosalie's mouth ticks up. "Deep blues and greens, yes."
"What's your season?" Bella asks lightly.
"When I was human, I was spring. Kiera is autumn, all warm and earthy tones."
"I don't think I'll ever understand that." Bella mumbles. The girls turn to look at each other, stunned when Rosalie lets out a laugh.
She doesn't know why, but Rosalie's smile feels a lot like hope.
Kiera didn't know when her mother would come to visit. She'd only said she'd be coming by, never specifying if it meant in time for her Death Day or ten years from now. Alice has been working day and night on the mock-up dresses she's making Kiera wear at her debut, her ideas spinning more and more out of control. Jasper had claimed it was an anxious habit she had, never settling on a design when the world in front of her turned uncharismatically blurry. It touched Kiera that Alice cared so much about the most important day in her life, but her frustrations weren't fun to be around lately.
Instead of haunting the Cullen house and being subjected to playing dress-up for a frazzled pixie, Kiera was standing at Emily's stove. 90210 was playing in the background but neither woman paid it any mind. She wondered when the last time somebody cooked for Emily. Emily, who took care of everyone first and then herself last.
"Sam takes over a few times a week," Emily answers when asked. "If he had his way, he'd let me sleep all day and be spoon-fed. But I like taking care of the pack. I'm an only child, I like having a big family."
"So you're probably going to have lots of little Uley's huh?" Kiera smiled to herself when Emily lit up.
"I hope so! God, can you imagine a little boy with his smile?" Emily gushed. "Or a little girl with his eyes? Oh, and when you and Paul have kids, our kids could be best friends. Wouldn't that be great?"
Kiera pursed her lips. "Well, Em, about that...I can't have kids. And I don't think Paul and I are ever going to be like that."
"Oh. I'm sorry for assuming, there isn't any guidebook on imprinting. It's all hearsay at this point." She was silent for a few moments before she asked in a careful voice. "Did you want children?"
Kiera thought long and hard about how to answer. She didn't want to offend Emily, or Paul, if this somehow got back to him. But all her memories of growing up with a mother like hers; they seemed to add up into a lack of maternal instincts. She knew she could love, having seen it with her cousin and Bella. Hell, even the Cullens are slowly worming their way into her heart. But she'd never yearned for a child.
But now that it was taken away from her, the thought of having a child was a bitter one.
"No, not really. I've never really wanted one. What bugs me the most is that it's not even an option anymore, if that makes any sense."
"Ah. You are upset because of the lack of choice." Emily stated. "I don't blame you, our bodies are our own. When things are decided for us, it's a slap to the face."
"Right now my life is a constant state of waiting. I'm in limbo, you know? I never understood why Diwata call it Metamorphosis. It's always felt more like purgatory to me. Everything is being decided for me right now. When I'll die, when I'll wake up, if I'll wake up…" Kiera sighed.
"What do you mean if? Kiera, you're going to wake up. " Emily said sternly. "You're too stubborn to die, look at what you'd already survived. You even run with Cold Ones and you're still here!"
Kiera stared down at the pot of soup in front of her, biting her lips. "It's not me just being paranoid, Em. I found out some pretty crazy news."
"...You're not full Diwata, are you?" Emily asked as if she already knew.
The ladle dropped with a wet splat onto the tile floor as she spun around in shock. Emily looked the slightest bit guilty, but she didn't dare look away.
"How did you know?" Kiera whispered.
"Well, you have to understand. Imprints are very important to us- they are the one thing the pack can't hurt. Hurting them would be like killing the wolf, and the pack bond is too strong to allow that to happen."
"How. Do. You. Know?" Kiera grit her teeth, her hands clenching up at her sides.
"The pack only recently included the trails near your house into their patrol. They don't usually get close enough to hear anything, but one of our newest ones, Seth, moved in a bit too much. If one wolf hears it, the rest sees it once they shift. He heard your conversation with Ramona." Emily cringed, the scars on her face puckering with the expression.
"That's really creepy, Em. Like really creepy. You need to give me a heads up with things like that, don't just do it and expect me to roll over with it. Have you not heard enough horror stories of my cousins' wrath? What if she'd found out? I know she's only four eleven, but she's closer to hell for a reason Emily."
"It wasn't my idea. And I'm not really allowed to share info about the pack, though if I could I would have told you!" Emily swore, her dark brown eyes welling with tears.
"I don't like being kept in the dark about things," Kiera warned. "If it involves me or my cousin, please tell me next time."
"I'll make sure they know." Emily promised. "I'm sorry Kiera. I really am."
Kiera eyed her for a moment, wondering if she was remorseful enough. But Emily's eyes were full of nothing but sincerity. Smoke pulled her away from her thoughts, the smell of burning food making her want to wretch. Spinning around, she realized she'd burnt the canned soup she'd been making for Emily. Emily, bless her soul, says nothing about Kiera's lack of kitchen skills and silently moves the pot off the burner.
"I'll order pizza," Emily gives her a pat on the shoulder, holding back her laughter.
"That's probably a good idea." Kiera stated, grimacing at the mess she's made. "It's a good thing I won't be needing food in the future."
"Go over what a Death Day party is like once more." Alice orders, twirling a pencil with her nimble fingers.
Kiera sighs. "Alice, we've been over this about fifty times."
"It's not been fifty times, stop being dramatic. Now, what happens?" Alice barked.
She was taking this party planning way too seriously, but her need to overcorrect any possibilities of failure was keeping Kiera from snapping. Alice hated not being able to see Kiera. Kiera couldn't even imagine something as complex and seeing the future, regardless that it was all dependent on choices. The endless possibilities Alice had to shift through even with her accelerated mind gave Kiera a sympathy headache.
"It's kind of like a debut or a debutante's entrance into society. We gather we feast, we dance the waltz. Sometimes the chosen Diwata's family and friends give toasts or have solo dances. Ramona and her father did a special father-daughter dance. It was his way of showing he was letting her go, letting her grow up."
"It's almost like a wedding," Alice said, eyes sparkling.
"Or a quinceanera." Esme beamed from the doorway, her hands carrying a tray full of snacks for Kiera. "My quince was wonderful, and I remember how hard I cried during my father-daughter dance."
"The Spanish did take over the Philippines for a while. There is a lot of overlap." Kiera happily took the tray of snacks, hoping one of them would stay down.
"Who are you inviting?" Esme asked, sitting at the edge of the bed. Her caramel hair shone sweetly in the afternoon sunlight, not a single strand out of place as per usual. The bruises beneath her eyes were always softer than the others, the edges worn by the kind look in her golden gaze.
"You guys and Ramona, of course. And likely the pack." Kiera hadn't wanted to share that tidbit, due to the weird atmosphere that followed after talking about either.
Alice and Esme glanced at each other, but Esme only nodded. "I'll make sure the family keeps in check. May I suggest a meeting or two with the pack beforehand to get more comfortable with each other's presence?"
Something breaks from the other room, two separate voices groaning and grumbling. Kiera rolled her eyes, already knowing Rosalie was one of the voices. She complained often and loudly about the strange scent the wolves carried, but she'd learned to keep most of her comments to herself. The other person was a mystery, though it seemed both Alice and Esme knew who it was by the small amused smiles on their faces.
"I also think if we initiate contact with your father's side of the family soon enough, they can come to your party." Alice said quietly, playing with the rings on her fingers.
"I don't want anything to do with them." Kiera hissed. "He didn't want anything to do with me, and so I want nothing to do with him."
"But-" Alice was hushed by Esme, whose teeth momentarily gleamed like a warning sign.
"None of your human friends then?" Esme continues on as if Alice hadn't spoken, smiling beautifully again.
"There will be too many supernatural creatures for me to feel comfortable inviting team humanity. Plus, I die at the end of the party. That's kind of a bummer already, no need to scar the humans further."
"You what?" Alice's mouth drops open, as if she didn't already know. Kiera smirks at her and closes it for her, narrowly missing the playful nip Alice gives her by a hair.
"It's called a Death Day for a reason," Kiera teases. "I'll drink a cup of poisonous tea and take a nap. And then I'll wake up, fully changed."
"Are you scared about it, dear?" Esme asks, a concern so loving that it throws Kiera through a momentary loop.
"Not really." She may have told them about her duality, but she wasn't going to tell them she might not wake up. That would be a can of worms for another day.
Hopefully, after she wakes up.
If she wakes up.
Anyways. Back and forth Alice went, showing seating charts she's already made and simply nodding when Kiera told her to please not sit Rosalie next to Paul. She wanted her two friends to enjoy each other, but Paul's temper and Rosalie's incessant need to have the last word would make the party end in tears. Probably Paul's tears, the poor dude has been frustrated enough lately.
"Sit Rosalie with Jacob. They both like cars, they can talk about that." Esme informed helpfully.
"Rosalie doesn't like anybody but like two people," Kiera said bluntly. "I doubt she'll want to talk about cars with someone she's been forced to sit next to."
"Rosalie can speak for herself." Rosalie interjected, strutting into the room.
"And what does Rosalie say to sitting next to Jacob?" Esme's brow quirked, smiling at her daughter.
"Rosalie says 'no'." Rosalie says with a scoff, crossing her arms.
"Stick Rosalie next to Leah, they'll get along great," Bella said from the doorway, Edward smirking behind her, his hand on the small of her back.
"Bella- actually? That's a great idea. You'll actually like each other. " Kiera said. "You both can talk crap about Jacob and Edward. It'll be fine."
Rosalie considered it for a moment, her darkened eyes lightening. "I can work with that."
Kiera is utilizing the last few hours of daylight, her camera held up to her eye. Golden hours makes things look much more luxurious than they really are, but she doesn't mind the illusion. With fresh air in her lungs and her camera in her hands, Kiera almost felt at peace. Something about the woods near the Cullen house didn't look so scary. In fact, they looked safer than they have in a long time.
Kiera shakes herself of her thoughts, still not wanting to traverse the woods. It hurt to ignore its call, but deep down she knew she'd return someday. Bella's behemoth of a truck was the first thing she captured, it's rusty exterior having grown on Kiera. She still thought it was an ugly thing, but it was somehow comforting.
Esme's slowly growing flower garden was next. With Ramona's tips, her flowers had begun to flourish. Ramona had begrudgingly given over some of her secrets, but even she soon became endeared to the sweet Esme. A dragonfly lands on one of the sprouting lilies, it's iridescent wings beating happily. Kiera greedily soaks in the image, her finger rapidly clicking.
When she turns around, Jasper is on the porch, leaning against a pillar with his arms crossed. His eyes are a darkened caramel as he watches her, his lips quirked in a small smile. Kiera grins at him and snaps a quick picture.
"Going to pose for me now, Jasper?" Kiera teases, enjoying the way the camera catches the way Jasper laughs."What are you, a GQ model? There goes my self-esteem, right out the window."
He sobers, his eyes still twinkling. "If I'm a GQ model, aren't you meant to be on the cover of Vogue?"
"Ah, he jests." Kiera shakes her head. "I'm a literal foot compared to you Cullens. But no worries, I'll have my glow up and it'll be over for you beautiful jerks."
"Whitlock. You're not a foot," Jasper corrects before he gives her an incredulous look. "How could you think that?"
"I'm dying, Jasper. Nobody looks hot while they are dying. Not unless you're Dean Winchester." Kiera chuckles. "Whitlock is a nice last name. I hadn't thought vampires kept their last names when joining a coven?"
"Usually, they don't. On most records, I'm a Hale. I'm Rosalie's twin a lot of the time. Sometimes I'm a Cullen, but usually, I play a Hale."
"So when do you get to use your real last name then?" Kiera asks, tilting her head.
"Almost never, if I'm honest." He says with a wry smirk.
"That's a shame. Maybe one day you'll get to use it again." Kiera smiles.
Looking at the photos she's taken, she's thrown for a loop when Jasper's comes out blurry. Everything around him is perfectly crystalline, sharpened against his blurred form. He looks like he was caught mid-movement but Kiera is sure he had stayed perfectly still.
"Ah. Didn't want to ruin it for you, but even cameras don't work on us." Jasper sounds wistful, coming to stand next to her, looking over her shoulder at the pictures.
"Painted portraits only, huh?" Kiera thinks back on the gigantic oil painting hanging in Carlisle's office. The Volturi had seemed so regal, so stiff. Even Carlisle had been cast in a noble light. Out of all the art mediums, Kiera preferred photography. It's always seemed more natural to her, including more movement than a stationary painting could. But now the Cullens couldn't even have that. It was a pity.
"What about IDs and passports? Doesn't that make things extremely difficult to go overseas?" Kiera asked.
"Typically, we use Esme's private jet service. While it's not the most inconspicuous way of transportation, sitting in a plane with a bunch of humans for too long is dangerous. At least it is for me," Jasper admits, smiling stiffly. "Carlisle is the one who uses normal planes the most, with Rosalie coming in second. Esme and I have the most trouble."
"Esme owns a private jet service? Why didn't Alice use that when we went to get Edward?" Kiera can't help her wide-eyed look. "Oh, you guys are rich rich."
"Technically we can handle the flight, but I'd rather not test it. It's hard enough to be in a college classroom for two hours, let alone on a plane for fourteen. Esme has a small service for those like us that try to blend in. Our pictures are actually extremely detailed portraits." Jasper chuckles. "Esme loves when we have to change photos out for new ones. It gives her an excuse to paint the family."
"That's insane. I bet she makes so much money that way."
"Oh, no. Esme never charges unless she doesn't like the person. And there are very few people Esme doesn't like." Jasper smirks.
"Who is bad enough for Esme of all people to not like? They must be terrible." Kiera laughs.
"Usually people of the Volturi. Of course, she claims she's busy or overbooked when they ask, but we all know that's a lie. She could complete their portraits in a week if she really wanted. And only because she'd have to wait for the paints to dry."
"Damn. I respect that." Kiera admitted, leaning her shoulder against Jaspers' arm.
She wasn't wearing his jacket today, having left it at home to finish drying. Today she was wearing a simple creamy turtleneck and a heavy coffee-colored cardigan, both the courtesy of Rosalie who'd demanded Kiera buy more warm things due to her dropping temperature. Even though it was the middle of spring, Forks rained more days than not. There are only about one hundred days of sun, and today was one of them.
Jasper wore a thin grey henley, the curves of his shoulders filling it out easily. It covered most of his skin, but the peaks of it had that preternatural glow to it that Alice's had. She sometimes forgot vampires had this halo effect, but looking at Jasper now, she wondered how she could ever forget it.
"What?" Jasper's lip quirked. "What's got you so smiley?"
"You're kind of angelic-looking," Kiera said simply, as if it were a fact. "I had already known you guys were stupidly beautiful, but every reminder makes me question if you guys aren't actually angels or something."
"That's part of the charm," They'd begun walking now, skirting the edges of the driveway. "The glow tends to mesmerize humans and bring them in. Like an angler fish. Not very angelic."
"Ah, but you're thinking of the wrong kind of angels. Biblically, angels are terrifying. Wheels, multiple faces, skyscraper heights- why do you think they say 'do not be afraid?" Kiera snaps a picture of a flock of geese flying overhead, mentally praying they don't poop.
"I didn't peg you as the religious type," Jasper said dryly.
"I'm not, not anymore." Kiera shrugs. "My family is Catholic, though you don't see much of it these days."
"What made you stop believing?" Jasper asked quietly, the two of them slowing to a stop. "If you don't mind me asking."
Kiera pretends to adjust the settings on her camera, her dark eyes glazing over. "When I was laying on the forest floor, begging God to either save me or kill me as I bled out."
Jasper flinched. In the moment, he'd looked like a statue you'd see in a museum. Cold, stiff, and brutally beautiful. His eyes were the color of tar and a hint of fang showed beneath his lips. Still, he did not press. He only waited, eyes darting across her face in search of meaning.
"One day, I'll tell you. But not today, " Kiera smiled weakly. "Just know that I loved someone once, and I'll bear the weight of that for the rest of my life."
Kiera paused, wondering if she could show him. If he'd understood her meaning if he thought she was gross now. But she continued on, braved by Rosalie's company these past few weeks. Carefully, Kiera gripped the collar of her turtleneck and pulled down. The beginning of her scars peeked through, and Kiera could swear his eyes became impossibly darker.
"You're not the only one with scars, Jasper. Maybe that's why I've never been afraid of yours like I know most creatures would be." Kiera said softly. "We both survived. We are both still here. I think you are tough as hell for making it through whatever you went through. Maybe one day, we can swap stories."
Jasper brought a hand to her face, using the back of it to brush back a strand of dark hair. A burst of immense affection threatened to upend her, swirling through her till her toes curled. Kiera blinks against the current. This is the first time she's fully noticed how gorgeous Jasper is. She's known it, just commented on it, but it's like seeing the world light up with color living in grey.
He drops his hand and Kiera struggles to gather herself. Confusion rushes through her, followed softly by overwhelming terror. It takes her a moment to shake it off. Kiera takes in a deep breath and steps back, giving him a wide smile that feels entirely too fake. Two and two nearly come together, but Kiera doesn't want to make five, so she shoves the moment into the back of her head.
Jasper for his part doesn't look too bothered. "Apologies. I'm simply glad to know you aren't afraid of the way I look. So many people are, even my coven forgets from time to time that I'm more than my body."
"It's alright," Kiera keeps her voice light. She feels guilty for thinking he meant it any other way but mostly embarrassed. "It was just unexpected. Sometimes I forget you have your ability."
"I never forget," Jasper says softly. "It makes it easy to forget with you, and sometimes I almost let myself. I can pretend things are different for myself. I don't mean to overwhelm you. You're just the only piece of dry land in sight when it feels like I'm drowning."
"Being an introvert with a power like yours sounds like absolute hell," Kiera wrinkled her nose. "You don't need to be sorry. We're friends, Jasper. At least I think so?"
Jasper pauses, something flashing in his eyes Kiera doesn't have time to catch. Then he smiles, wide and crooked, looking the most beautiful she's ever seen him. "I'd like that. To be your friend."
The hot water isn't so hot anymore. It's not an act of comfort to linger beneath the shower's spray now that her body is stuttering through its Metamorphosis. She wipes the steam from the mirror and looks at herself, wondering if she'd always look like a microwaved corpse.
Logically, she knows she won't. Ramona didn't. But she also can't account for the Faerie side of her. What if they look like the Cullens, like beautiful bodies frozen in death? For once, she understands why they'd hate themselves. Being leeched of the life that fills you and leaving you looking like both the star and the monster in a horror movie must damage anyone's sense of self.
Kiera tries to smile at her reflection, looking at her blunt teeth. The mirror has fogged over, reminding her of when she saw Jasper's reflection. Blurred like a freshly painted picture that'd suffered a dry brush running through it. She thinks she's almost made her fangs drop when a muffled bang sounded from her room. The pressure that'd welled up in her gums dissipates and Kiera rolls her eyes.
"Ramona! You better not be stealing my sweat again, you thief!" She shouts.
Ramona doesn't answer her.
With a huff, Kiera gathers the towel around her and steps out into the dark hallway. Steam billows behind her, the edges of her wavy hair frizzing from the heat. "Mona?" She calls again, annoyance lacing her tone.
Nothing.
Dread builds in her stomach. She just remembered Ramona had gone to her small office in Port Angeles to finish up a legal matter. Kiera was supposed to be home alone.
She tries to inhale, but all she gets is steam and the scent of her shampoo. It's a natural one Rosalie had made for her, something lighter than the nose-blinding chemical-filled bottles from the store. It does little to help her.
Kiera edges closer to her room but thinks better of it. She's already done this once, and she'd always prided herself on being smarter than the morons unfortunate enough to be living in a horror movie. Kiera turns on her feet, bumping into a slim chest. Pale hands grip her shoulders and a sickeningly familiar voice chuckles.
"Missed me?" Sebastiàn says. His eyes are a putrid yellow, so unlike the warm golden tones of the Cullens. When he smiles, his mouth is full of teeth.
Kiera screams.
AN: Fun fact, I hate roses. I think they are pretty but boring, super cliche. They smell lovely though and rose flavored things are always yummy! Also, Kiera's experience is like my own, with some tweaks.
I hope you aren't disappointed by my choice in her other half. It's been planned from the beginning, and my take on Fae is going to be really…dark at times. I tried to show hints throughout it, and even directly compared the Diwata to the Fae in one of the first few chapters ;) Has Kiera finally gone crazy? Poor lass.
P.s. Her name is Irish, and it means 'dark' or 'dark hair'. It's like KEE-RA, I believe. The chapter title comes from the song 'Hello My Old Heart' by The Oh Hellos. Link to the playlist is here: playlist/3gkwukLfDR7ZST7YF2ZkRa?si=p6XUjuXwT6eOXUd8EOlnkw