I was playing around with how present Marcus' ability in words.
Unlike his co-rulers, Marcus pays little mind to the twins.
He honestly never has, and why would he start to now?
Aro has claimed himself their leading caretaker anyhow. And Caius, well, he needs someone to use to appease those numerous black, stormy waves of wrath he has crashing through him on a weekly basis.
But the vibe he manages to tap into every whenever the twins wandered into his power's range, is a very confusing, outlandish one. Not for them exactly, but for him. They falter his skill at times. He has trouble pin-pointing a term to describe it.
All affairs and personal ties come in various shapes and colors in his mind's eye. And it is never up to the people involved to choose the form their relations took, because the heart never lies. Marcus knows by now that the true shape of a bond was determined by the reality of it.
Though the twins share a bond in which he had never encountered before their arrival. Their link is not humanistic, apart from most. It is not a connection that is streaked and spackled with a lot of bold, clear emotions for him to recognize.
For instance, the words SHE'S THE ONLY THING shone brightly in a red, electric light behind his eyes when that Edward Cullen had defended his beloved from Felix's jaws. And the cords that powered that image ran deep down from within the lad—his undead heart working as its main source of power, its battery.
From Jane to Aro, Marcus usually can see the words MY TRUST or OUR PROTECTOR in white fancy, slanted letters upon a sky-blue background, like a young cloud. And if Caius was in her view, Jane's mind turns volcanic. DO THY WORK comes up in them steam that hisses from cracking potholes, vengeful sparks bounce up here and there, and fiery rivers running through mounds of ash, bubble over with dangerous glee and excitement. It's a demon's playground.
And even from Alec to Aro, Marcus sometimes sees I ACCEPT THIS etched in brown and green—an earthy setting. A slight sensation of being stabilized and grounded; with little roots curling down into the soil. Most days though, Alec's mind was merely a hovering silver mist settling over a quiet watery stream. His actions and level of obedience was just waiting to flow with the motions, ready to pounce if needed, being ever calculating, being vindictive but careful—not itching to slaughter blindly, but not promising precious life to go unscathed either. RESIST IF YOU DARE.
But labels like these are nowhere to be found upon the rhythm flooding back and forth from the twins themselves.
None of that. In fact, Marcus' relationship-radar has hardly sensed any words floating between them at all. Ever.
Their bond instead, always appears to him as a moving picture...taking the image of a manor house, or an old castle-like location much like the one they all live in now.
Most of it was empty, full of unspoken potential but frozen in time nonetheless. And the castle has its cold shadowy places, yet also has its sun-filled halls too. A tall wooden broom is always leaning against one wall, covered in cobwebs as a pile of childish toys lay untouched and forgotten across the way. The castle has its levels, has its oubliettes, its winding corners and hidden passages inside the stone barriers. It has many rooms to spare, some doors are locked, sealed shut, barring out peeping eyes at all times while other doors remain wide open. The chambers and quarters themselves vary in their tone, attitude, and color.
To this day, that scene is a still a complete mystery to Marcus.
But one thing is fairly certain—the twins must find a real home in each other.