Everyone told her to move on, to find someone else and flourish. That would be impossible, she thought. Forever unchanging in a world that constantly is, is enough to kill things that flourish. To find someone new would mean leaving the idea of Carlisle behind, and Elisabette wasn't sure if she could do that. Her soul yearned for the idea of him and his unrelenting love. Who else could provide that?

The New World was strange, complex and so largely small. She was forced into learning the way of being human, the way word spread so quickly in this new country scared her. After finally getting into a routine of acting inconspicuous, the war broke out. The British attacked citizens and men and boys were forced to give up their lives to retaliate. During this revolution, she met another immortal. Garrett was a newborn, as could be told by the red of his eyes and blood in his veins. He spoke of his sister, dead as a result of the war. With a grasp of his shoulder, she saw her, Lottie. Dark hair flew behind her, contrasting her brother's sandy blond, dark eyes fixated on Garrett as he chased her.

"She was gorgeous," Elisabette said, as much sympathy in her voice as she could muster.

"Lottie was so much more than that, she was so smart, even when she made foolish decisions."

Elisabette hummed in response, her hand finding Garrett's as a sign of comfort. Then she saw him, her Carlisle. When she thought of perhaps staying with the soldier, the image of her love disappeared. Fate had already contracted her loneliness in neat cursive letters. Faced with the decision of what to do next, Elisabette pondered living at the bottom of the ocean for a while. Of course, surviving on fish blood and the bodies of drowning seamen couldn't be pleasant. She stayed above sea level that century.

The Revolutionary War drug on for what felt like forever, the end product being a new country that promised freedom and surely unattainable dreams. She floated through the front half of the nineteenth century with ease. Her ever unchanging body was looked upon by young southern gentlemen who grew up on plantations drinking sweet tea and preaching hard work while their father's slaves worked the fields. Abolitionism seemed to be her calling, and she answered with pride. Of course, as previously discussed, animal is the predecessor of man. When faced with opposition, men will always revert to their primal instinct: war.

When the Union asked Elisabette if she would spy on the Confederacy, a great payment promised for fulfilling her "duty to the nation", she had no choice but to agree. She saw firsthand the propaganda spread by the great traitors of the United States: "The Union threatens to burn our cities to the ground! Take back what is ours!", "They will come to take our land and kill our people should we stand idle!". She felt sorry for the men who willed their lives as sacrifice for flamed lies.

It was around this time that the Southern Vampire Wars began, more gruesome than any human war could wish to be. Cities were wiped off the map entirely by territorial immortals with no grasp on cohabitation. Elisabette could only roll her eyes at her kind, so selfish and entitled. She unwillingly hoped that the Volturi would step in, only they never did, and the smell of burning sweet bleach never left the south.

Oh, how time fails to make the powerful see how weak they are. The twentieth century shaped the way Elisabette saw the world, and even more how she saw herself. Within fourteen years of the new century, another war emerged. One that would forever change the way the planet saw war. Of course, this generation never saw how the Romanians and Volturi fought. With the battles ceased and the treaty signed, Elisabette could finally breathe again.

She spent the twenties dancing in speakeasies in dresses her mother would have deemed blasphemous, watching baseball in stadiums the size of castles, and flirting with rich men in the likes of New York, where big towers loomed over the growing city.

When the Depression hit, she bought housing for the homeless, and deemed Hoover unfit for office. With more money than she knew how to spend, she gave it away, not being able to stand the sight of dirty children on the street, her heart tearing at the sight. Her anger with the world set in once again when the second world war began, shortly after the new president promised an exit from the Depression.

In the first half of the forties, her eyes blazed with an ever present anger at the way the world never quit fighting. No one could ever have peace in a world driven by human greed and superiority. She thought about what would happen if she fought the war herself, she was resistant to poisonous gasses and bullets. Hell, she could win against any country she wanted to - given they didn't throw fire, but humans weren't that smart anyway. The back half of the forties, she spent on edge, just waiting for the announcement that the US had declared war on someone. The announcement never came, but she knew that it would one day. Humans can never fully live in peace.

In June of 1950, she was proven right once more. North Korea had marched into war, and the United States would play the hero on the side of South Korea. For the next three years, Elisabette lived in an angry silence, frustrated by humans and their urge to kill. Of course, two years later, another war would begin in Vietnam, and she would have to resist the urge to replicate the ways of the Romanians, dominating over the humans as it "rightfully should be" - in the words of the Romanians themselves.

Even though she promised herself that she was done with exposing herself to the limelight, especially with the invention of the camera - which she expected to stick around for awhile - she got involved with someone. She didn't love him, and she knew he didn't really love her. Elisabette imagined that Jack also told his silver screen blonde mistress that he loved her too, even with his wife waiting in that big house, their two children having fallen asleep waiting for their father. She enjoyed the satisfaction that came with being with a man in power. And even though monogamy seemed more popular than ever among the elite, she knew that they would always favor affairs, given the choice.

On that somber November day, for the first time since Carlisle left, Elisabette spilled hefty venomous tears. Red irises were clouded by the glossy white liquid that fell so numbly onto her flawless cheeks. The television, which she had yet to turn off, was now loudly announcing, "President Kennedy has been assassinated on this day, and died at 1 PM, Central Standard Time, 2 o'clock, Eastern Standard Time, some 38 minutes ago." Her sobs became louder and she wordlessly banged her fists on the floor, hard enough that she heard a vase fall to the floor, subsequently shattering. How weak she was that day.

Her days went slowly and quickly all at the same time. Before she knew it, it was August of 1969 and Elisabette found herself in the crowd of a music festival, said to be a place of love and peace. An almost comically large hat shielded her from the overcast New York sky (just in case), Garrett was standing next to her in similar attire.

"I think I had a lot of fun." Elisabette smiled at her friend, one of the few she had. They were walking the rainy streets of New Hampshire, only hours had passed since they had left the crowded festival that took up their whole weekend and part of Monday.

"Fun isn't something you think you have, it's something you either have or don't!" Garrett explained to her, and for a moment he regretted his words. He saw a flash of emptiness in her bright crimson eyes.

In that same moment, a head of platinum blonde hair could be seen bobbing along the streets, beside it a lankier figure of similar height with reddish-bronze hair. Elisabette knew in that moment that it was her Carlisle. She ran at a human speed to catch up to him, Garrett following closely behind. He ran into his friend's marble body when she looked ahead and saw the possible love of her life happy in another woman's arms.

The woman's maternally heart-shaped face was caressed by soft caramel locks and her red eyes stared above her at the blond man who Elisabette once called hers. She took in a deep intake of breath when they were met with a whole family, all smiles and happy chatter. When she turned to leave, Garrett was gone. She turned back to Carlisle's coven - the word put a bad taste in her mouth - and her nomadic light-haired friend stood among the family as if he belonged there.

She rolled her misty eyes, turning to leave only to be blocked by a large figure who shared her bleach smell. When she looked up into his eyes, they held an amusement in them, as if he had been waiting for this moment.

"You must be Elisabette," it felt like he was mocking her name, "Carlisle sure talks a lot about you." He gently grabbed her elbow, knowing she would follow him to where the blonde man stood, talking to Garrett.

"-I just think it would have been more fun if psychedelics actually worked on us- oh hey, Lissa!" Elisabette murmured a soft response to him, Emmett - as she saw his name was - still grasping on her arm.

Carlisle introduced the pair to his family, although he was mainly talking to Garrett, knowing that Elisabette knew their names through Emmett's touch. Lissa - her friend had begun to refer to her as such soon after Jack was assassinated - didn't know if she could stand to talk to Carlilse, not while knowing that the flame for his love had never died out.

"Well Ellie," Emmett said, "How you likin' New Hampshire?"

"Less now that you're here."