be afraid of the cold; they'll inherit your blood, pt. ii: ink (carlisle) pg13
title: be afraid of the cold; they'll inherit your blood, pt. ii: ink
fandom: twilight
character(s)/pairing(s): carlisle pov; the cullens + bella, victoria
rating: pg13
word count: 1737
spoilers: twilight au.
notes: this is part two of five 'times bella never got turned into a vampire'. title and opening quote (translated) from regina spektor's 'apres moi.' uh, so these kind of get more disturbing as i go along?
summary: au. edward hesitates in the ballet studio.
February. Get ink, shed tears.
Write of it, sob your heart out, sing.
While torrential slush that roars,
Burns in the blackness of the spring.-
“Ap`res Moi”, Regina Spektor
ii. ink
If my heart hadn’t stopped beating in a potato cellar four centuries ago, it would have frozen in my chest the moment I stepped into that ballet studio. The blurred motion of Jasper and Emmett joining the brawl between James and Edward was only secondary in my mind as the scent of Bella’s blood hit my senses. It held only an iota of the appeal that it once had; just enough to remind me why I’m here. Of what’s at stake.
“Carlisle!”
Edward’s voice rang sharp with panic at the same moment that I flitted to his side, leaning over the broken girl that had become nearly as integral a part to our family as Jasper or Alice, or perhaps even myself. Blood seeped at an alarming rate from her scalp. I brushed aside her dark waves stringy with the crimson liquid to access the damage.
“She’s lost some blood,” I ascertained by the rather large pool by the broken mirror, “but the head wound isn’t deep.” Edward made a move to lean over her, and I held out a cautionary hand. “Watch out for her leg, it’s broken.” The ivory splinter of bone was visible poking through her skin, and I winced empathetically. But that wasn’t her only fracture.
I felt gently along her sides, smelling the blood pooling there. “Some ribs, too, I think.”
“Edward…” Bella’s voice gurgled drowsily, her face contorting with pain, “Edward, it hurts.”
My eyes scanned her body for further injuries, because something wasn’t quite right…
Three things happened nearly at once: Edward turned to me to question me about controlling her pain level, Bella cried out in fresh agony, and my searching eyes found the bite mark on her hand.
“My hand- it’s burning!” she shrieked, clenching her fingers into a fist against fire.
“James bit her.” I clarified, mostly to myself. I was faintly and briefly glad my family had disposed of him, but the spiteful thought was quickly replaced with concentration as Alice handed me my supplies and I began to stitch up her head wound.
I was only faintly aware of the argument between Alice and Edward, mostly because it was as predicable as it was stubborn; Alice must have flashed her vision of Bella was one of us through her mind because he protested vehemently. Any fool could see how much Edward abhorred even the idea that Bella would be damned to this life.
“There may be a chance.” I hedged, “See if you can suck the venom out.”
Edward tensed beside me, no doubt disbelieving his ability to resist temptation to quite that degree. The same pained skepticism was in his tone as he spoke.
“Carlisle I…” His ebony eyes gave him away. “I don’t know if I can do that.”
There was a beat of silence in which the only sound was the frantic galung-galung of Bella’s heart, her moans of agony and the scuffle of her body as it writhed on the wood floor.
“You’re running out of time.” I warned. I wouldn’t wish to be inside his head at that moment, for it was an impossible choice. Risk taking her life by draining her dry or doom her to an eternity feeding off others.
Alice must have been humming with energy, but she was wise enough to keep silent, fluttering over Bella’s leg with the attention of a war nurse.
Unfortunately for Edward, time slid the alternative away from him.
“It’s too late. The venom is diffusing into her tissues; her veins are sealing closed.”
Edward remained motionless.
“Son, I-“
“No.” He raised a hand in defiance to my consolation, my reassurances. His jaw was locked and the direction of his thoughts was plain. Bella screamed and, if possible, his expression slipped deeper into grief. “I’m so sorry, Bella,” he scooped her into his arms, cradling her tortured body against his chest. “So sorry.”
The hot asphalt of the street was beneath our feet, the burning frame of the ballet studio lay in our wake, and the scent of venom and blood intermingling led the way to our destination.
(чернил)
“Edward?”
I glanced up from the medical journal on the desk in front of me, just as Bella darted into the room. She probably could have been able to tell he wasn’t here if she had stopped to listen, but from the frantic edge to her voice, I doubted she was thinking rationally.
“He’s out hunting with the others, remember?”
My voice was cautious, placating even. It seemed to calm her.
“Oh.” Her shoulders slouched forward, more out of habit than any kind of tension. Vampires didn’t exactly have sore muscles. “Oh that’s right. Thank you, Carlisle. I’m sorry to bother you.”
“It’s no trouble at all.” Now my voice was the one with a keen bit of tension, desperate to hold her here. She rarely left her and Edward’s room these days. “How have you been feeling lately?”
Her eyes softened briefly, then sharpened, the way they always seemed to when she deemed someone was putting too much effort into fretting unnecessarily over her.
“Just fine.”
Her voice was small, fragile even, for such a strong creature.
The way she’d called out Edward’s name a few moments ago reminded me of the way she’d woken up in this new world and I winced momentarily as I recalled her beginnings.
“Edward? Where’s Edward?” her red eyes wide like an earthquake victim’s after the fall.
“I’m here,” he’d assured. His smile would only have been comforting to someone who either didn’t know him very well, or who wasn’t paying much attention. Bella was neither.
“What’s wrong?” she’d cooed sympathetically, smoothing her thumb over the creases in his forehead. But then her hand froze, inching away. “Don’t you want me anymore? Like this?”
“Of course that’s not it!” he’d boomed, trapping her hand and bringing it to his lips. “How can you even say that?”
She’d smiled then, timid but still scared.
“Good.”
It had been three years, and they’d barely budged an inch; Bella disoriented, Edward berating himself for not saving her, Bella fretting over his constant martyring.
Edward worried over her constantly, his guilt melting with his already apparent fear for her well-being. The change in her merely altered the nature of his concerns; human food for blood, horror at our kind for regret over her choices, falling down for massacring the local town.
Bella rarely spoke, and if she did, it was to Alice, and only in whispers. I didn’t think Alice had ever spoken so quietly for so long in her entire life. For the most part she communicated with Edward through her thoughts, and they had silent conversations across rooms more than they voiced them aloud. It was a strange existence.
And that was the most pronounced change to the arrangement; Edward could hear her thoughts now. The scientist in me had theorized, in fact could have sworn, that her resistance to his gift had meant something about her ability in this life.
I was wrong.
She lived in a constant state of frazzled disorientation, as if she still wasn’t quite sure why she could suddenly break walls and she no longer slept. She spent most of her time that wasn’t with Edward exploring the many empty rooms within her own mind, marveling at the wide berth of her thoughts, or penning letters to her loved ones that she could never send. When she ran out of people in her family, she moved on to strangers, people she had met in passing. A cashier who seemed sad one day. A boy she had barely known in Arizona who had picked up her books after she fell once. Laurent, apologizing for the death of his friend.
Bella shifted awkwardly on her feet in the space in front of my desk, already inching towards the door.
I smiled kindly.
“You can go now Bella.”
Her expression was one of relief, and then she was gone.
Only one ear was idly listening to the downstairs rooms, keeping track of Bella as she shuffled around the living room. She went to poke around the kitchen, the way she often did, as if she thought that perhaps if she sat long enough there that she might want to fix a snack. It was another of her behaviors that worried Edward to the point of insanity. He came to check on her often.
So I didn’t think much of it when I heard someone slip in through the back door, thinking it was just Edward making sure she was alright.
“I know you,” came Bella voice from below, and my forehead wrinkled in confusion. Well that was odd.
The voice that replied, however, had me bolting from my chair, racing down the stairs.
“You should. Your mate killed mine, after all.”
I rounded the corner just as a sound like ripping aluminum echoed through the house.
And there Bella stood, Victoria’s arm dangling from her grip.
“Oops,” Bella breathed.
“Bitch!” Victoria screamed, and lunged for her, just as Edward knocked her to the floor. He tore off her head. Her red hair shimmered, disembodied, as he tossed it to Jasper and the fire Emmett was already building in the backyard. They made quick work of the pieces, Edward’s rage that the woman had dared to enter our home with the intention of killing his mate causing his attention to focus diligently on her absolute destruction.
I noted the dismemberment from the sidelines, refusing to take part but never a thought to stop them. Sometime violence was as practical as it was horrible.
Bella watched with her lip between her teeth, her eyes wide and glossy, and when all Victoria’s limbs were smoldering, she ran to him.
“I- I- I didn’t mean to,” she whimpered, Edward pressing her to his chest as he gazed at the flames watchfully.
His expression molted from confusion to shock as he no doubt read her mind.
“It’s okay Bella, no one is angry with you,” he explained with an edge of hysteria, unsure how to comfort guilt that was childlike in its innocence.
She raised her head from his shoulder, finding his eyes. “Tell her I’m sorry?” she pleaded intently. He stared at her for a pregnant moment, searching for something in her stare, or perhaps it was her mind, that he never found. He nodded slowly.
“I’ll tell her.”
pt. iii >>
fandom: twilight
character(s)/pairing(s): carlisle pov; the cullens + bella, victoria
rating: pg13
word count: 1737
spoilers: twilight au.
notes: this is part two of five 'times bella never got turned into a vampire'. title and opening quote (translated) from regina spektor's 'apres moi.' uh, so these kind of get more disturbing as i go along?
summary: au. edward hesitates in the ballet studio.
February. Get ink, shed tears.
Write of it, sob your heart out, sing.
While torrential slush that roars,
Burns in the blackness of the spring.-
“Ap`res Moi”, Regina Spektor
ii. ink
If my heart hadn’t stopped beating in a potato cellar four centuries ago, it would have frozen in my chest the moment I stepped into that ballet studio. The blurred motion of Jasper and Emmett joining the brawl between James and Edward was only secondary in my mind as the scent of Bella’s blood hit my senses. It held only an iota of the appeal that it once had; just enough to remind me why I’m here. Of what’s at stake.
“Carlisle!”
Edward’s voice rang sharp with panic at the same moment that I flitted to his side, leaning over the broken girl that had become nearly as integral a part to our family as Jasper or Alice, or perhaps even myself. Blood seeped at an alarming rate from her scalp. I brushed aside her dark waves stringy with the crimson liquid to access the damage.
“She’s lost some blood,” I ascertained by the rather large pool by the broken mirror, “but the head wound isn’t deep.” Edward made a move to lean over her, and I held out a cautionary hand. “Watch out for her leg, it’s broken.” The ivory splinter of bone was visible poking through her skin, and I winced empathetically. But that wasn’t her only fracture.
I felt gently along her sides, smelling the blood pooling there. “Some ribs, too, I think.”
“Edward…” Bella’s voice gurgled drowsily, her face contorting with pain, “Edward, it hurts.”
My eyes scanned her body for further injuries, because something wasn’t quite right…
Three things happened nearly at once: Edward turned to me to question me about controlling her pain level, Bella cried out in fresh agony, and my searching eyes found the bite mark on her hand.
“My hand- it’s burning!” she shrieked, clenching her fingers into a fist against fire.
“James bit her.” I clarified, mostly to myself. I was faintly and briefly glad my family had disposed of him, but the spiteful thought was quickly replaced with concentration as Alice handed me my supplies and I began to stitch up her head wound.
I was only faintly aware of the argument between Alice and Edward, mostly because it was as predicable as it was stubborn; Alice must have flashed her vision of Bella was one of us through her mind because he protested vehemently. Any fool could see how much Edward abhorred even the idea that Bella would be damned to this life.
“There may be a chance.” I hedged, “See if you can suck the venom out.”
Edward tensed beside me, no doubt disbelieving his ability to resist temptation to quite that degree. The same pained skepticism was in his tone as he spoke.
“Carlisle I…” His ebony eyes gave him away. “I don’t know if I can do that.”
There was a beat of silence in which the only sound was the frantic galung-galung of Bella’s heart, her moans of agony and the scuffle of her body as it writhed on the wood floor.
“You’re running out of time.” I warned. I wouldn’t wish to be inside his head at that moment, for it was an impossible choice. Risk taking her life by draining her dry or doom her to an eternity feeding off others.
Alice must have been humming with energy, but she was wise enough to keep silent, fluttering over Bella’s leg with the attention of a war nurse.
Unfortunately for Edward, time slid the alternative away from him.
“It’s too late. The venom is diffusing into her tissues; her veins are sealing closed.”
Edward remained motionless.
“Son, I-“
“No.” He raised a hand in defiance to my consolation, my reassurances. His jaw was locked and the direction of his thoughts was plain. Bella screamed and, if possible, his expression slipped deeper into grief. “I’m so sorry, Bella,” he scooped her into his arms, cradling her tortured body against his chest. “So sorry.”
The hot asphalt of the street was beneath our feet, the burning frame of the ballet studio lay in our wake, and the scent of venom and blood intermingling led the way to our destination.
(чернил)
“Edward?”
I glanced up from the medical journal on the desk in front of me, just as Bella darted into the room. She probably could have been able to tell he wasn’t here if she had stopped to listen, but from the frantic edge to her voice, I doubted she was thinking rationally.
“He’s out hunting with the others, remember?”
My voice was cautious, placating even. It seemed to calm her.
“Oh.” Her shoulders slouched forward, more out of habit than any kind of tension. Vampires didn’t exactly have sore muscles. “Oh that’s right. Thank you, Carlisle. I’m sorry to bother you.”
“It’s no trouble at all.” Now my voice was the one with a keen bit of tension, desperate to hold her here. She rarely left her and Edward’s room these days. “How have you been feeling lately?”
Her eyes softened briefly, then sharpened, the way they always seemed to when she deemed someone was putting too much effort into fretting unnecessarily over her.
“Just fine.”
Her voice was small, fragile even, for such a strong creature.
The way she’d called out Edward’s name a few moments ago reminded me of the way she’d woken up in this new world and I winced momentarily as I recalled her beginnings.
“Edward? Where’s Edward?” her red eyes wide like an earthquake victim’s after the fall.
“I’m here,” he’d assured. His smile would only have been comforting to someone who either didn’t know him very well, or who wasn’t paying much attention. Bella was neither.
“What’s wrong?” she’d cooed sympathetically, smoothing her thumb over the creases in his forehead. But then her hand froze, inching away. “Don’t you want me anymore? Like this?”
“Of course that’s not it!” he’d boomed, trapping her hand and bringing it to his lips. “How can you even say that?”
She’d smiled then, timid but still scared.
“Good.”
It had been three years, and they’d barely budged an inch; Bella disoriented, Edward berating himself for not saving her, Bella fretting over his constant martyring.
Edward worried over her constantly, his guilt melting with his already apparent fear for her well-being. The change in her merely altered the nature of his concerns; human food for blood, horror at our kind for regret over her choices, falling down for massacring the local town.
Bella rarely spoke, and if she did, it was to Alice, and only in whispers. I didn’t think Alice had ever spoken so quietly for so long in her entire life. For the most part she communicated with Edward through her thoughts, and they had silent conversations across rooms more than they voiced them aloud. It was a strange existence.
And that was the most pronounced change to the arrangement; Edward could hear her thoughts now. The scientist in me had theorized, in fact could have sworn, that her resistance to his gift had meant something about her ability in this life.
I was wrong.
She lived in a constant state of frazzled disorientation, as if she still wasn’t quite sure why she could suddenly break walls and she no longer slept. She spent most of her time that wasn’t with Edward exploring the many empty rooms within her own mind, marveling at the wide berth of her thoughts, or penning letters to her loved ones that she could never send. When she ran out of people in her family, she moved on to strangers, people she had met in passing. A cashier who seemed sad one day. A boy she had barely known in Arizona who had picked up her books after she fell once. Laurent, apologizing for the death of his friend.
Bella shifted awkwardly on her feet in the space in front of my desk, already inching towards the door.
I smiled kindly.
“You can go now Bella.”
Her expression was one of relief, and then she was gone.
Only one ear was idly listening to the downstairs rooms, keeping track of Bella as she shuffled around the living room. She went to poke around the kitchen, the way she often did, as if she thought that perhaps if she sat long enough there that she might want to fix a snack. It was another of her behaviors that worried Edward to the point of insanity. He came to check on her often.
So I didn’t think much of it when I heard someone slip in through the back door, thinking it was just Edward making sure she was alright.
“I know you,” came Bella voice from below, and my forehead wrinkled in confusion. Well that was odd.
The voice that replied, however, had me bolting from my chair, racing down the stairs.
“You should. Your mate killed mine, after all.”
I rounded the corner just as a sound like ripping aluminum echoed through the house.
And there Bella stood, Victoria’s arm dangling from her grip.
“Oops,” Bella breathed.
“Bitch!” Victoria screamed, and lunged for her, just as Edward knocked her to the floor. He tore off her head. Her red hair shimmered, disembodied, as he tossed it to Jasper and the fire Emmett was already building in the backyard. They made quick work of the pieces, Edward’s rage that the woman had dared to enter our home with the intention of killing his mate causing his attention to focus diligently on her absolute destruction.
I noted the dismemberment from the sidelines, refusing to take part but never a thought to stop them. Sometime violence was as practical as it was horrible.
Bella watched with her lip between her teeth, her eyes wide and glossy, and when all Victoria’s limbs were smoldering, she ran to him.
“I- I- I didn’t mean to,” she whimpered, Edward pressing her to his chest as he gazed at the flames watchfully.
His expression molted from confusion to shock as he no doubt read her mind.
“It’s okay Bella, no one is angry with you,” he explained with an edge of hysteria, unsure how to comfort guilt that was childlike in its innocence.
She raised her head from his shoulder, finding his eyes. “Tell her I’m sorry?” she pleaded intently. He stared at her for a pregnant moment, searching for something in her stare, or perhaps it was her mind, that he never found. He nodded slowly.
“I’ll tell her.”
pt. iii >>