The start of the story. I know everyone hates my slow burns...this one might be burning a little faster than I thought it would.
Temptress
He comes to her as the darkened skies blankets the home coolly, and if it weren't for his kind smile, she would shiver at how his lean frame loomed over the patio eerily so. Her hands still once he sits on the perch of the sofa (a silent message that her visitor will more than momentary company), she shuts the archaic manual deftly: her endeavor to learn more about ford trucks and their schematics delayed.
Carlisle is more than an old creature who carriers himself in a cultivated and poised manner. His smile while suave was kinder and more honest, a classic and lovely grandeur proved him to be the essence of humanity—he a cultured, ancient, and humane vampire that has mastered the virtuous principles of humankind. While damned to this lustful eternity, this man has the ability to remain mortal in all facets of his moral decency. She deemed him fountain of beauty, as none could rival his kindness within the thousands of years to which he's walked this earth.
"You've found your mate. Your reason beyond reasons, and yet you still punish yourself as though you don't deserve happiness," he observes her uninhibited warmth, kind smile at the ends of his lips. "You as much as anyone in this coven merits the bliss of love Rosalie."
She peers at him in woeful empathy, that shred of resentment a faint twinkle in her accursed eyes. The waned moon illuminates his pale beauty brilliantly, and the irony lurks about them cruelly.
"And this happiness is found and revered at what cost?"
He counters her sullen, and melancholic response with an expectant and devoted uplift of his mouth.
"That night," She bristles, animosity vibrant on her lips. "You pleaded with me to grant you death. However, there was this defiance that shone wildly in your eyes. And I had only minutes to decide on whether allow this beautiful tragedy to depart from a world that wanted to bide farewell in such a cruel and inhumane manner. Or to see if that defiant and bold hope that I saw in your eyes was an indication that you could once again find your peace after death. I forced you into this world and I owe to you all of my capabilities to keep you from your self-destruction. Are you prepared for another death? Because that what it would feel like for a life without her, only this one I cannot save you from."
She wonders if she can stumble upon some semblance of reason, any sort of rationality akin to one who warrants the loneliness she often covets. Perhaps she may venture into the leafy and dense wilderness that this dinky town offers, then she could find an individual that sides with her. Alice, and now her adoptive father intervenes on a decision she once believed to be equitable. Abide with her kind's most absolute belief, and have her whole coven implicated from her sadistic pull of fate—that deviant lust is not one she can welcome without consequences.
"My decision is final," Rosalie condemns him surly. "I will not be the cause of everyone's death for a chance at my own happiness."
Rosalie stands and ambles towards the doors comely, scorned.
He rushes to her side, earnest hand placed on her shoulder insistently.
(Beauty does not walk with her in adoration, but in misery).
"Perhaps this life becomes her. Don't be so cynical Rosalie, she has the ability to give you this happiness that no one ever could or can. And you would grant for her the same and that is all the reason why you should fight for her. We as a coven, a family, will deal with the consequences as they come."
She snatches her arm from him, wintery frown lit on her eyebrows. Decision all the more addled from voiced concerns, with eternal sadness near in her future.
…
It's a match that she presumes she cannot win without tenacity. As she had predicted this human (a rarity) remained a stubborn prick in her side, and she, still is balked in wonder. While she had not anticipated their encounters to be all the more frequent, she was very expectant that they would occur at some point in the near future. However, an entire week has passed willfully, and not so much as one word was uttered between them. More contented and fulfilled than dismayed her mind wandered further into the depths of her impression of the human, and it seemed only then did the variances of her alarm seep in.
This human, mystified her in every inequitable way. Afterall that wild human with a mouth that spoke wittily and earnestly introduced a wearisome liability about her once empathic notion, and the repercussions are paramount. Her once resolute mind falters; composure shattered in a woeful equilibrium, prickled existence compelled to find that vulnerable heartbeat, poise enchanted to stalk her ordinary and unadorned peer. As a vampire, a preordained predator, she wholly believes to have she has found her ideal prey.
(Lured cruelly into the den of attraction).
Her mood crumbles into the depths of hell, face crumpled, entirely disquieted, and infuriated. Rosalie dares not rip her heedful stare away from the human who peers at her from afar. The cafeteria and distance hardly veils the cool and provocative eyes—an invitation and taunt all in one. Her hands tremble with unparalleled turmoil, as a small uplift of the humans' lips curve into a smile and crinkle appears to shine in proper amusement. She had no blood left in this firm and solid body, the crimson long overtaken with a poisonous venom: 'however this human has opened a wound that endlessly bleeds.'
The vampire dispels the effective stare in contempt; however, the invitation remains open as the human ambles away from the rowdy table towards the salad bar. Honey orbs stalk their prey, and before she wills herself to abide by her own rationality the blonde vaults from her seat grandly. That eccentric and devilish blood creates an ambivalence about her intentions, and the notion that she wouldn't dare harm this human haunts her darkly. She halts a mere five feet before the heedless human, her brow quirks once a few seconds ticks away distractedly.
"You're even more oblivious than I believed," Rosalie mumbles meticulously. "And you shouldn't take so to choose from the options here. The variety of vegetables and fruits haven't changed in over a year."
Bella blinks, heartbeat stalled momentarily—the blonde observes silently, concentration solely on the face of the human in order to perceive what reaction will come next. Bella looks weary, sleepless and tired. The cafeteria seems to have waned in commotion as their peers become alerted from this public interaction, and Rosalie continues her pursuit of the human who has yet to move her piece (the checkered board paused precariously). A low chuckle wafts into the air wildly, cheeky, and free.
(She had been left sunless for decades, however this radiance about the human warms her kindly).
Bella, in a variance of emotions maneuvers around the blonde in order to acquire an apple and 'the hush' of the wide space improves, while chatter fills the room inconsistently: the vampire sours as she cannot decipher the deft sentiments. She pursues the mobile teen loudly, a distance kept between them intentionally.
"Are you ever in a good mood or are you always this happy to see me?" Bella questions honestly, fun almost lost in her coy smile.
"I am in no foul mood." She deadpans, and the irony isn't left to either of them.
Bella inclines her head curtly, facile motion weakened due to the timid way she pushes back her unruly hair—chestnut brown, limp and wild all the same and the vampire notes multiple imperfections exhibited in the teen.
"Well," Bella mutters, mindlessly munching her a cucumber. "You could've fooled me." Her leer falls unto Rosalie steadily.
Idle chatter had never been her forte, or rather the inane antics of earths inhabitants was an impractical, substitutable, and proved fruitless on numerous occasions, so she often veered far from trivial conversation. This inept human however seemed to share her ideals, so she probes.
"I assume your trip with your…friends went well."
A secretive scrunch of the human's face troubles her, and Bella 'eyes low and warned' conveniently flushes—balked impossibly from the peculiar reaction the vampire discovers none about the internal commotion that occurs before her. An incantation overwhelms her aura; however, Rosalie cannot discern what that reticent chant darkly murmurs to her: 'my inability to understand her'. And that saddened thought is what becomes her beacon in comprehending why it is she finds this human so distasteful.
"I found out some information that helped me. However unrealistic and farfetched it was, a friend of mine told me a tale. Or more like a folklore that—I hadn't known that your father had ancestors from forks."
It sidles into this conversation with a dark demeanor, Rosalie blinks in appalment and recoils soundly. Bella, the embodiment of her rue exemplifies every issue within this inappropriate dynamic. And the weight of the discovery falls on her shoulders heavily, the eerie silence akin to the tranquil stillness of peace before a turbulent war. A vivid eruption occurs then, and the vampire stalks towards the stationary teen. The space between them closed quickly and the air icy, her tall stature towering over the human grimly.
Timber cruelly hushed and doleful. "My family's history is none of your business. So, stop whatever it is you think you are doing because it won't end well for you if you continue this probe into our lives."
After all this intensity, heat and mayhem Bella has the audacity to redden. Antsy and pink the blush blooms across every feature of the teens face, wholly unraveled from their proximity. Bella breathes thinly and an air of uncertainty bounces around them prolifically. And it trickles into them woefully, the lure of temptation emphatic around them—the blonde leers at the human owlishly, compromised.
"Then stop your pursuit of me," her voice rebounds off the blonde. "Because you really don't seem like you want me to stay away."
Her fury dwindles a sullen ache thrives in the hallows of her chest and she much preferred her usual reverence for seclusion so that this moment wouldn't feel so calamitous. Rosalie inclines her head in acceptance, a seldom admission that seems unconventional to do. This itch, however risky was far too substantial to exile to the bleakest corners of her mind. Her mood plummets as her dead heart mocks her so.
"Talk sense to a fool and he calls you foolish," Rosalie mutters wistfully. "If I have a superiority complex Bella, then you must have a stupidity issue."
Bella smiles then: that timbre familiar, worthy, vivid, and the theatrical voice 'melancholic and firm' drips as does warm honey and she is covertly pleased, as she picks up her abandoned salad. The teen overlooks the insult willfully, and starts the short trek towards her lunch table; the vampire pursues her instinctively.
"This entire town is under the Cullen's spell," She meets the blonde's sarcastic smirk with sardonic grin of her own. "But not down at the reservation. In fact, the natives there seem to have all these mysterious answers to my questions about you all…like that they're in some secret and ancient war with your family."
Interest perked; the blonde's eyebrow quirks, vastly entertained.
"You've come to me with a farfetched tale of the natives. You'll need concrete evidence in order to gain my trust in your capabilities Bella."
The name falls from her lips reverently, the first time she has voiced it as more than a burden (an unfortunate occurrence), and the human snaps her attention to her, wholly startled. And a crimson blush stalks up her neck deliciously. Rosalie sends the human an eyeroll 'meek', the blonde thinks easily.
"Well, you're talking to me now. Does that not warrant your trust to speak to me more often?" Bella questions "Or at least a hi every now and then." She mutters bitterly.
"Hi." The vampire flatly throws back at the teen quickly.
And Rosalie nearly, smiles at the dark scowl she receives from the brunette.
"Cheeky. Very cheeky." They reach the stunned table. "It suites that air of arrogance you have."
Bella falls into the seat heavily, and Rosalie dares the weak breath she exhales is more elated than weary. The table and those pathetic humans that Bella claims as friends stare at her with obvious wonderment, all inhabitants silently envious of who she accompanied to their table. Her mood worsens, sneer high on her lips. Bella merely plucks a fry from her plate, thoroughly amused by the blondes' newfound irritants.
She observes the table in blatant disinterest, however her leer halts on the blonde male that has been another prickle to her temper. Her memories serves her well 'We should hang more Arizona. I mean…like the two of us. Alone—maybe we can catch a movie sometime," and Bella had declined the offer, but not at all definitively. He still had hope, and it radiated from his boyish grin every time he spoke to the newest member of their bunch. Rosalie believes she loathes him in more ways than one—Mike Newton, she understands that it would do her well to remember that persistent boy.
"Actually, Rosalie listen," The vampire becomes weary at the troublesome voice. "We're all heading to Port Angles tonight…you should come with us." Bella openly invites her.
All occupants of the table stare at the bold teen stupidly, Rosalie simply fixes Bella's expectant eyes (something mischievous dares stare at her back) with a bored decline of her head.
"Thank you, however I'll have to decline." The vampire frowns delicately. "Though my offer from last week still stands. Whenever you've done your… research."
She leaves the table calmly, despite the dangers of her issued dare.
…
"Flirtatious kitty." Emmett whispers, teasingly.
Alice smiles at her, known and thrilled.
(Dead heart fulfilled and pleased).
It'll all pick up from here. I like writing them like this but maybe you all don't share the same sentiments as me...If any of you like editing...PM me? I am in real need of one.