Third Person POV (Moira)

Moira made her way up to the door of the Swan house quietly, delicately, until she came to a stop at the door, painted a typical white. Glancing down for a moment at the Welcome mat, she knocked once. No need announcing my presence any further.

Her coal black eyes took in the sight of the short girl who opened the door. Limp brown hair. Pale. Brown eyes. Normal.

"Can I help you?" Her monotone curled through the cold Washington air. Moira smiled like fresh blood on a knife. Sinister and warm. The girl's eyes widened, and she looked like she wanted to bolt. Good.

"I'm looking for Charlie Swan?"

"Here. You must be from Miss Robichaux's?" A gruff man came up behind the scared girl, putting a hand on her shoulder and relieving her of door duty. She scampered off like a scared rabbit.

"Yes."

"Welcome to Forks." The door opened wider, and he helped haul her suitcases into the home.

"Thank you for letting me stay here."

"It's no problem. I owe it to Eleonora, anyways. Make yourself at home." Her eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of the Supreme's first name. No one ever used it. It was entirely disrespectful.

"Of course." She glanced about the cozy home. It was quaint. Suitable for her purposes. She would write to Ms. Osbourne as soon as these people left her alone.

"This is my daughter Bella." The girl from before looked at her feet, mumbling a greeting. Another smile.

"It is a pleasure to meet you two." She looked unaccustomed to such pleasantries. Did they not teach their children basic social skills up here, or was it just Bella?

"You will be staying in our guest room on the second floor. It's next to Bells's room. She'll show you up." He looked at his daughter. She coughed, before walking towards the stairs.

"Follow me." They got to the second floor, Bella pointing out where the bathroom and her bedroom was.

"Who are you anyways?" This little child was amusing. The sides of Moira's mouth curled up again, this time genuinely. Forks may be more funny than I originally thought. At least, I'll have more fun pretending to be a serial killer here than in New Orleans.

"I'm Moira Rathborne. I'm from New Orleans."

"What are you doing up here?"

"A vacation, of sorts." The definition of vacation today being, "killing newborn vampires and frightening the townspeople."

"Forks is kind of a weird place to take a vacation, but whatever. So here's your room. Knock if you need anything." The other teenager disappeared into her room. Moira noticed the AC, the multitude of drawers, the heavy curtains, the soundproof walls. The door had an exceptionally good lock on it. This room was made for a witch. Interesting.

"Girls! Dinner!" She checked the clock on the wall. Already 7:00. Time flew very fast indeed.

Dinner was silent. Just the clink of forks on plates. Very awkward, between the girl eating as fast as possible so as to get away from the table and Moira only finishing half the plate before getting away too.

Nothing ever happens here.

REVIEW! I know this one wasn't as long or as good as the previous chapter, but I needed a little filler so I can get to the interesting stuff ;) But um yeah so I might have two more out today because this story bunny will not leave me alone. GOOD FOR YOU. BAD FOR MY HAND WHICH IS DYING FROM TYPING SO MUCH. YAY.

R

E

V

I

E

W

THANK YOU :3