Its been so long I've even forgot how to do authors notes lmfao.
Happy one year anniversary! Of my not updating, yay! *blows a toot*
Look guys, it's been a tough year, really, but I am so, so sorry for this delay, and my constant false promises. You guys continue to support me, even through all my nonsense, and this is how I repay you. You all deserve more. I am truly, honestly, very, VERY sorry.
I hope this chapter was worth the long wait, and I'll try and try to get back into the update groove, so please don't hate me.
I recommend going back and rereading the previous chapter, considering just how long its been lol, but otherwise I hope you enjoy this.
Review?
:)
Shameless Promo! Checkout my new Edward/OC fic January if y'all can!
Chapter XVII - Flax
Upon entering the local Forks art store, it became quite apparent to Edward, quite quickly, that Edgar was no stranger when it came to shopping for art supplies. From the moment they crossed the threshold and the cheerful greeting bell rang out announcing their arrival, it was clear to see that she was in her element -the way her chin lifted just a little higher, her shoulders loosening just a little bit more, an air of confidence and surety surrounding her whole being -and the change, small as it was, was also very glaring, and that was something he couldn't help but dwell on.
It wasn't that Edgar was shy per se -far from it in fact- but for all her bluntness and lack of care for the rest of the world, she also held an aura of awkwardness around her, a sort of uncertainty in the way she carried herself, like she was just a little bit lost.
And yes, he'd long learned that for all her artistic talent, Edgar had the social skills of an Alien from another galaxy entirely - but it was more than that. An alien could potentially learn to assimilate, adjust with time and exposure, but Edgar -the same dreamy, moon-eyed girl who was currently staring at a paintbrush display as if it were instead a rare collection of priceless artifacts-, for all her being a native of planet Earth, it was as if she still didn't quite know how to behave around humans, how to react appropriately, how to respond to them and replicate their behaviour -as if she didn't know how to be human. It wasn't even for lack of trying on her part, shame. He knew very well that she had books about the topic that she used for reference on how to carry herself in social situations (much to his unwitting amusement), often recalled her father's lessons before acting as well, but at the end of the day, Edgar really just wasn't equipped for prolonged exposure to human society.
And how ironic it was, Edward couldn't help but think wryly as he watched her gently pick up a thinly bristled brush and debate whether or not purchasing it would be worth her father's ire, that here he was, a soulless monster, so good at playing human with barely any effort, while she an actual humanbeing, failed miserably at something she didn't even have to try to be.
The owner of the shop chose that moment to appear from where she'd been rearranging the magazine stand, and upon catching sight of him, her thoughts turned surprised, then cheerful. He came to her store every once in a while with Esme, and for some inexplicable reason she'd grown fond of him. She was an elderly woman, with greying hair and crow's feet at her eyes, but her smile was genuine and she was one of the few humans in the small backwater town who treated his family with openness and kindness, which was a refreshing change from the rest of them.
Though when she caught sight of Edgar, she stumbled, her brows furrowing in confusion, her brown eyes flickering between the two of them as she tried to make sense of their being together, and really, Edward couldn't exactly blame her for it.
It seemed though, that she knew Edgar well, and after her momentary pause, her look of confusion melted into one of fond exasperation as she realised that the young girl was currently mid-way into reaching forward for the paintbrush display.
"Stop right there, young lady." Said the eldery woman, in a stern voice as she approached -Ms Pearson, he remembered. Never been married, no intentions to-, and much to his entertainment, Edgar did, freezing in place, her expression looking much like a child with their hand caught in the cookie jar.
Maybe I can convince her to allow me just this once, thoughtEdgar, slowly lowering her hand that was still clutching the thin paintbrush and turning to look at the woman with wide silver eyes, blinking innocently.
It was an oddly endearing sight, Edward couldn't help but think as he watched her. She looked like a baby owl, completely disarming in her charm.
Unfortunately, the grey-haired lady was very familiar with the act, and wasn't swayed. In a movement far too quick for a human her age, she snatched the paintbrush away and placed it neatly back in its place on the display, before turning back to Edgar with a no-nonsense frown. "Your father gave me specific orders not to let to buy anything willy-nilly, and you promised to be more responsible. Why, you were in here just last week, buying the exact same kind of brush! You can't tell me you've worn it out already!"
He watched in amusement as the girl in question opened her mouth, taking a deep breath to defend herself and her honor (apparently she really had worn out the brush in one week), but one look from the stern woman had her shutting it again, shoulders slumping and her pink lips forming a pout.
"This is oppression of my artistic liberty." Said the black haired girl in a petulant tone, but all she got in reply was a huff of exasperation, and he had to cough to hide his chuckle.
"Edward, dearie, so good to see you." The old woman said, turning to him with a warm smile. "Though I must admit I am a tad surprised to see you in the company of this little troublemaker here -Edgar is quite the handful, no mistake there. Still, its nice to see you making friends. I was worried you weren't settling in well. I know how hard it is moving to a completely new environment." Ms Pearson sympathized, folding her hands together and pursing her lips slightly as a memory of her own first years in the small town played in her mind. Lonely, boring, cold, were the impressions he got.
Edward shrugged disarmingly, "I suppose I just needed some time to acclimatize." He replied, never mind the fact that he and his family had been in Forks going on a year now, which under normal circumstances, should've been plenty enough time to 'acclimatize'. They just weren't interested.
The grey haired lady gave a pleased hum because 'its so nice these two finally interacting with other people, and oh, they do make quite the pair don't they? nodded once, and turned to a still-sulking Edgar (who was in the process of thinking up a way to convince her father to relax his restrictions a bit more) with a raised eyebrow. "Well then, how can I help you two today?"
With an exaggerated sigh, Edgar extracted the assigned list of supplies they'd been given from her rucksack, and handed it over to Ms Pearson.
"School project?" Asked the woman.
"Evidently." Was the mulish reply the black haired girl gave in reply as she glowered at the paintbrushes on the display stand.
He rose a brow pointedly at her, but she pretended not to notice.
Ms Pearson, for her part, was unfazed by Edgar's dark mood, only sparing an oh look at the poor dear, just like her mother, perhaps I can talk to Charles... Before she was all business once again, nodding decisively. "Well, you know my store better than I do." She murmured in reply to the younger girl, before handing the paper to him.
"I'll just leave you two to it then." Said the woman, and with one last smile, she left them.
Turning to Edgar, he gave the black haired girl a crooked smile. "Shall we?"
Shopping with the younger girl, was a different sort of experience, Edward soon found. He liked to consider himself somewhat of a (reluctant) shopping veteran, considering her had two sisters and a mother who frequently loved to drag him around for such excursions and thought them, had come to know the ins and ours of the sport -and it really was a sport, it took a special kind of dedication, practice, and technique, as well as mental and physical discipline, no matter what it seemed like at first glace. It honestly merited a spot in the international Olympics -no one could tell him otherwise.
Still, Edgar didn't so much as slowly browse between each item, as Esme did, nor did she excited flit from one to another like Alice, and she didn't brush past everything for that one item in particular, like Rose.
No, she sorted of did a mix of all three, browsing and rushing and bypassing alternatively, her mind quick as lightening as she assessed what was in store, its quality, and it's usefulness.
He'd gladly ceded their list into her capable hands, because for all his years on this earth, he genuinely hadn't known, that there were so many kinds of what he'd previously assumed to be simple A2 project paper.
The look Edgar given him upon his admission was withering. Her thoughts revealed how much of a travesty she really did consider this, disdaining at the fact that anyone could be so uninformed. To her, paper quality was the most important of all, for without good paper, one couldn't do anything at all! She then proceeded to explain to him, in excessive detail, just why this quality was better than that quality, and how they differed much to his unconcealed amusement.
"Oh, and why exactly have you chosen this type of binding?" He asked casually, and honestly, he wasn't much interested in the intricacies of stationary, but he did enjoy how animated she became -her eyes gleamed and her hands waved as she talked, her charasteristically soft voice rising with her enthusiasm. He found himself watching her, noticing how her entire personality changed, how she was full of life, and that dark space where his heart had not beat in over ninety years, seemed to warm.
The realization hit him abruptly, how utterly charmed he was by this petite human girl.
She was clever, and beautiful, and interesting, constantly surprising him and leaving him foundering, and Edward wondered how anyone could disregard her, dismiss this girl as easily as they did. How he himself could have missed her presence for as long as he did. He was almost ashamed of himself, for not finding her sooner.
And yet, even as he watched her tick another item of the list, he knew that as much as he'd come to enjoy being around her, he also knew how much of a risk it was for the both of them. He wanted, very much, to be able to continue to learn about her even after this little project of theirs was finished, to continue unravelling the many layers of her personality, but he could not. Spending such a great amount of time with a single human was dangerous, the potential for a mistake too high to ignore. What would she do, should she find out what he was, the monster hidden under his veil of civility.
He thought of the bleak, dark world he'd been living in before she came along, and knew it would only be a million times worse to return to it, after catching a glimpse of the brilliant supernova that was Edgar Beauregard. But he had to put his selfishness aside and be rational. He'd indulged himself far too much.
His resolve was set; as soon as their required school work was put to an end, he'd put the sorely needed distance between them once more, and they would resume as before.
Daniel Smith, was a very sweet, if painfully awkward young man, Cecilia Beauregard found. With his dirty blond hair and emerald green eyes, he was pleasant to look at, but he hid his looks under a thick wall of self-consciousness that somehow eclipsed it all. That wasn't to say that he was shy however, just not particularly outgoing. That had been evident enough even through the phone call they'd shared the previous afternoon, in which it had seemed like he had no idea what to say nor how to carry on conversation.
She found it both endearing, and a little exasperating -leave it to her granddaughter to find herself a friend who was just as socially awkward, if not more. Edgar was a special case, social nuances flew right over her head, but the blond boy was almost extremely aware of them, and in his attempt to navigate them ended up tripping and stumbling instead.
Between the two of them, it was a wonder they were even able to have a conversation.
He'd arrived at her door at nine am sharp, just as she'd instructed, holding his violin case in one hand, and clutching at the backpack over his shoulder with the other, shifting from foot to foot and staring around with wide eyes.
And because Cecilia loved to watch people squirm, she gave him her biggest hug and a fond pat on the cheek, enjoying how his arms floundered about as he tried to decide whether it was appropriate to hug her back. She didn't blame him, they'd only met once, but well, being an old woman had its perks, and she could practically get away with anything.
Thomas had sat him down in the foyer with a tea-set that the boy had stared at as if he'd had no idea what to do with it, and she'd hurried back to her chambers to drape a shawl over her cream colored suit, and retrieve her pretty white handbag, a birthday gift from Catherine a year previous. Her daughter always knew just what she liked.
"I'm so glad you've managed to make it, oh I just know you'll be a lovely addition to the orchestra." She spoke as she adjusted the pearls on her neck in the grand mirror or the foyer while Thomas readied the car. "I know my granddaughter, and she rarely, if ever gives anyone a compliment. You must be excellent, Daniel, I'm very excited."
The boy fidgeted, cheeks red and looking everywhere but at her, "I'm not all that great, Ma'am." He replied humbly. Cecilia turned to give him a reassuring smile.
"Oh don't worry dearie, I'm not expecting you to be the other next Vivaldi, please try relax. While the Blue Rose Ball is a very important event, it is also a chance for you to make yourself known, perhaps even attracted some kind parties. Nothing different than what you're used to, I'm sure." She declared. Thomas appeared, signalling all was ready.
She motioned for Daniel to come along, before following after her loyal butler. The man had been in their family for over thirty years, veritably helped raise both Charles and Catherine. William of course, had already been well into his childhood when Thomas had arrived, but it remained that the man was practically family at this point.
"Now Daniel," Cecilia started when the were well on their way to the city center, "I know its a bit short notice, considering we only spoke yesterday, but I've arranged a meeting for you with the head conductor. They're running rehearsal today, and I spoke to him about you, but well, he's a bit difficult. You'll be expected to demonstrate your skills-" she saw the look of panic that bloomed over his face, and quickly rushed on, "Nothing big of course. A short piece, I have full confidence in you. I just wanted you to be aware." She informed him.
He swallowed, "Oh."
She patted his hand that lay on the black leather seat between them, "He's Italian you know, and they've got a great ear for talent." She said, before continuing, "Why in fact, this year, our primary group of sponsors are from Italy, a trio of brothers who have very old blood, and thus, the charity theme is set around old Florentine masquerades!"
"Sounds fun." Daniel murmured. Cecilia tried to give him reassuring smile.
It seemed he was only becoming more and more nervous. "Edgar will be there too of course, we're auctioning a few of her pieces, and she hates these kinds of things. You'll have each other at least, to keep company."
The blond only gave a sigh.
