Cleanse
Loud, invasive, social, and compacted—all the reasons she loathed parties. The speakers blared a novel melody that was more beat than lyrics, habitually she veered to the patio. Where a modest wooden deck took up most of the open space of the backyard. Only three maybe four teens occupied the space, all gathered on lawn chairs and in bouts of hysterical laughter. So, Bella leaned her entire weight onto the thick wooden rail, and fixated her attention upward.
Forks was, is a small town that was far from hard to become accustomed to. As in itself this dreary, quaint town has been eternally ordinary. Rain and cold with the occasional afternoon of sun before clouds dusted over once more just before evening. However tediously dull and repetitious, forks seemed to abate her disquieted mind. A certain unease travelled as her companion since as far back as her memory could reach, suspense (restless and vibrant). It seemed that in this still, soundless, stark, and constant town that her eternal unrest eternal turmoil became quelled. She could not pinpoint the She could not pinpoint her own sanity as this town was much less involved in crime than any other place she's ever lived, however it did offer a sense of eeriness.
(A kettle was lit and heated it was).
Idealistic and vital, there was to be something in this secluded town that held her emotionally still.
(There. That incantation that often called to her, murmured to her lowly. A soft prick at her soul).
"Bella!" She burst from her internal rumblings, and throws on a grin for the drunken teen. "Get over here and catch up why don't ya?! Chug, chug, chug…"
Bella enters the kitchen and observes her fellow classmates drink mercilessly, ruefully cradling her cup.
…
Human conversation proved to be volatile and aimless. The endless chatter emitting from the teen's lips lathered with the scent of alcohol, only furthered her belief. Her ears were well versed in their search and possibly a bit defeated in their detection. Rosalie blinks and her lips twitch into a sneer as the despotic scents of alcohol blended with the warmth of stale sweat and marijuana are practically thrust into her nostrils. It's a stifling environment, even with the large area and the arrangement of the furniture stacked to the outer interior. She sums it to the compacted bodies filthily moving against one another in an inessential proximity.
She has a rather calamitous relationship with alcohol.
(He halts as he becomes emphatically tethered to the heaviness about the blonde's emotions).
A stream of warm blubs illuminate the entrance, it creates an attractive radiance about the modest home; the encompassing forest casting a beautiful contrast of darkness. Her ears attempt to fade the various sounds that become far too apparent with every step. There's a bit of a distance up the gravely driveway that's littered with numerous cars. Loud and volatile—a heavy ruckus that is much more burdened than the recreational fulfillment it was meant for—is what this treacherous noise human teens called music was to her.
Alice happily bounds ahead of them towards the lively home. Hand expeditiously opening the door once she eyes the 'walk in baby! It's party time!' sign. Edward heaves a breath of enormous annoyance, but he pursues the enlivened vampire. Jasper mutters an incoherent sentence of disdain as Emmett recklessly slams a loaded hand onto his shoulder.
She simply despise this earth and every incompetence that it homed.
…
Their arrival had been met with low murmurs and hushed alarm, so she quickly made dash for the patio that occupied no more than three stragglers that soon fled from her cold stare. Sturdy frame leaned on the wall behind her, Rosalie inflicted black flames at the wooden floorboard. As they've been at the unattractive home for over an hour, her fury for the unrevealed has merely intensified. The stench of alcohol wore on her, mind addled with the darkest moments of her soul tormented at the vibrant smell.
Alice bounces off of the edge of the deck comely. Alice stills, head tilted in bemusement. Mind in a torrent for the salient stare, all too lost and far too sadistic to be untrue. She has witnessed that contemplative look once before—yet none come to mind.
"You can dance after death Rosalie," Alice offers surreptitiously. "You've reaped you're sins long ago."
An idle breath releases from her lips evenly: A weariness overcomes her at the resolute pixie who stares at the expansive backyard in wonderment, in a stealthy movement she observes Alice with a dull scowl.
"I would rather not laugh at the danger this unfortunate situation implicates Alice."
"Then what are you trying to accomplish here Rosalie?"
Irritation well rounded, and intricate overcomes the blonde. Cut short by a fortuitous sound of the door wall unsealing in a leisure crawl. A low pair of low circumspect dark orbs are watchful of the scene. An almost blended reality about them as they peer with a relatively somber and celestial reverence.
Alice is the only one of the pair that heeds any attention to the newcomer and her lips twist into a thin, honest, smile. Her feet readily open to taking a swift leave as the mood of the blonde seems to worsen to impossibly lower than moments prior.
(She pursues with a heartbeat that resounds viciously).
"Bella," Alice utters warmly, softly. "Nice to see a friendly face around here."
The human, uncalled and expectant tilts her head in quelled delight. Cheeks painted a delicate pink, eyes studious and authentic welcomes the smaller teens easy grin. Bella cranes her neck to the side breath startled and heartbeat exuberant, she blinks. A tall blonde, slim and bleak. Stark and firm, it all seemed surreal for any human to be brutally intricate as she. Bella observes the violence about the teen, wholly covert in a rather refined manner. Rosalie stares as if there is no such notion of failure (Bella is all she perceives in this instance,) and Bella outwardly shivers. The flat, and observant stare should unnerve her. To an extent it fairly does, but on another completely queer level it enables her to enact the very same stare—maybe even a bit more remote.
"Hi Alice," alcohol taunts the caution she reserves for the blonde. "And my gracious savior."
The sticky nod claws at her, and Rosalie dispels the tease with a sharp blink eyes flourishing underneath the luminous moon, annoyance lively once the laughter of the short vampire breaches her ears.
"You're funnier than I thought," Alice grins easily. "I would love to stick around Bella, but I am afraid I have to go find the rest of my family who I suspiciously haven't seen in the last ten minutes."
Alice sidles past the human kindly.
The validation from the ache in her chest (numb, raw, and soulless) widens once the human comes to rest near the wooden banister. It creeps secretively; the allure is accompanied by misery and defiance. lub-dub-lub… Rosalie lifts her head as the familiar heartbeat; human, resolute and loud overwhelms her. Her hands encase the wood bitterly and sadly, as her teeth and nostrils flare covertly. The tune quells her wholly, though unwanted.
(They're linked to one another violently, a beautiful chaos).
Bella stares into endless trees witlessly.
"You know," Bella offers lowly. "I get the feeling that you don't like me very much Rosalie."
Rosalie wipes the small smile from her face quicker than it arrives as her interest piques momentarily only to vanish seconds later. A silence overcomes them. And vulnerability seeps into the blonde bit by bit as her eyes fall onto the amused human. Of whom does not cower at her chilly and sterile aura.
Rosalie bristles and then relents.
"What you believe to be true or untrue isn't any of my concern."
(Awfully woeful is she, despite her stellar façade).
Bella breathes willfully, the tactic evasive and somehow revealing.
"Or maybe I have confused hate and aloofness." Bella murmurs to none.
She finds this human to be a rather eloquent who's deterred not by her wild impassiveness, but is much more so perturbed by her subdued composure. It amasses none, however it shines a radiant temptation about her character. Bella: simply an enthrallment that had no initiative to be called so, was merely honest (bemused and controlled). Rosalie becomes apprehensive as a veil of annoyance seeps into her space. This, human who defies the wise decisions she's produced has created a wearisome tremor within her life. The dull, and tedious limbo she has been forever forfeited to. This insatiable quiver has slithered to the forefront of her mind, and every moment is full of a hearty heartbeat so contented and captivating, while the titled smile held a lure that seemed to declare the damnation that should have claimed her decades prior. Rosalie is dubiously enchanted by this memorable human that has no wild beauty about her.
(She is severely saddened; to a default. Surrounded by individuals who have become vital to another, all the while she remains stilted in a space of aloneness. Often wondered about the mere aspects for the entirety of herself as a whole).
The silence escalates until it becomes the precise reminder that the conversation is doomed to failure. While the devilish venom that has encumbered her all night, the human allays her in some manner. Her life has entailed many individuals—none have wildered her more than this one, of whom appalls her most. The prickle is scratched, brutally and melancholically; her mind emphatically final.
Chin taut, shoulders hiked in vindication, she turns unto the reticent brunette.
"I have no interest in wasteful conversation with you." Rosalie announces icily.
A wayward smile arrives, sharp and the low uptick of the pink lips curl softly. Her mind whirls, and wide darkened orbs rein in; brown irises melt into her (concerned, soft, and settled). The vampire blinks then.
"And somehow I find that to be untrue Rosalie," Bella chews her bottom lip tumultuously. "Or you wouldn't have wasted your breath telling me so."
So ordinary and vain, Bella is convinced in her statement. There is something faint and existent, almost a kind whisper in the expression of the rather obtuse blonde—their kindred souls weakened with the resistance that opposes them. Rosalie blinks, sorrow etched into her bones. A prompt eyebrow of her own raises, while her body moves to tower over the confident human.
"I wouldn't push my luck into finding out if I were you, Bella." Rosalie speaks darkly, a veiled frustration devours her whole.
A delicate peer is placed upon here, and the blonde exhales slowly, it overwhelms her.
"Fortune sides with him who dares."
Bella, so ordinary and wild was uninhibited in a manner. The inadequacy of human existence was much more intricate, delved further than indecision in the face of death. The vampire much preferred the notion that they remained overconfident that they had the competence to fend away death himself, of whom they've invited into their lives.
A pair of pale hands clench and relax almost a quickly as they flexed, while a vacant mien replaces the blondes short lived ire. With sneer for the foolhardy teen at the forefront of her lips, Rosalie moves around the warm body.
"Stay away Bella."
Her itch has been scratched; however, the vice of its apparent clutch sends a prickle down her spine. Soul resolute, doleful—her tenacity weakened and daunted for the parlous state of her fated eternity anew.
Somehow, she cannot rectify this decision that was never her's to make.
…
Bella mien pensive and delicately perplexed, directs a shadow of a smile towards the vampire. Rosalie, (damned to be cold, detached, and harsh) smiles at the human with a warmth that could rival the sun. Adoration sneers at her pure sincerity, balked by her loyalty.
Pale arms come to encompass a small frame as her chin tentatively rest on the head of the human. The heartbeat resounds in her ear in a clamorous melody—the sound beautiful, unreserved, and prevalent. Bella melts into the embrace, naturally. Hands fisting the bottom of the vampire's sweater, the brunette breaths contently.
Settled. Rosalie smiles reverently.
Bella (naturally warm, soft, and innocent) beams at the blonde in unreserved admiration. A crinkle appears near her nose as the blonde vampire emphatically places a dramatic kiss on her forehead.
"Bella," Her arms tighten. "Death is not the end."
Bella screams, mouth parted in a brilliant gasp as Rosalie's lips encompass her neck.
…
Breath thieved by the destructive dream, her lip's part, chest savoring the wearisome air. Heartbeat lulled and led astray with the low whine of the wind outside. These nightmares that tormented has become a part of her circadian rhythm; her shoulders weaken to lean onto the wooden bedframe for support. Her rather habitual routine that's occurred for three consecutive days haven't been kind to her. Bella flicks a hand, the delicate tremor weaving down her arm, while her eyes move to the luminous moon outside.
All the pain, the melancholic whisper of that smooth voice the peculiar manner of her wild and untamed enamor. Her mind remained rational for the unrest that pursued the family, however her heart prevailed on the entreated allure of the silent blonde.
Her thumb strokes over the dampened and sticky skin on her neck, the source of the prickle that almost seemed palpable in reality—the source of the subtle flames that danced across the taken skin. The announced trepidation quelled within her; the bleak orbs replaced with the vibrant honey irises she's dreamed about. Bella winces, run or stay.
"Damn," She murmurs into the night, head settling against the pillow. "Maybe she does hate me."
Bella nibbles her bottom lip in amusement, and the fickleness of her loud mind worries her.
Her beauty damned with the feral void of her heart, cleansed only by companionship.
Virgil for that delicious quote about risk…