(Untitled)

[sheisourheart]

"--right as the rai

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[mogget_cat]

A pair of white ears are inching into sight above the far edge of the table.

They're soon followed by a pair of bright and curious green eyes.

[sheisourheart]

Esme clicked her phone off, looking around. Listening first to see if Carlisle was working, while looking for her children. All, but especially the three currently away.

The ears surprised her faintly. But the eyes are telling.

"You do have a rather distinct look, don't you?"

[mogget_cat]

"So I've been told," the answer is rather wry. And possibly a bit smug.

"So do you."

[sheisourheart]

Esme held out a hand. It would be the first cat she'd have even the smallest chance of standing next to, no less petting, since the 20's.

"Yrael, correct?"

[mogget_cat]

He has no blood, no heartbeat to be a temptation. But he does rise up onto the table with his forepaws, to push his forehead against the palm of her hand, purring loudly.

"Indeed," he mwrrs. "And you?"

[sheisourheart]

"Esme." She says it simply, defining. Lost for a second in the simplicity of petting a cat. Far away dim memories, recall this sensation. All animals would run from them for the rest of time. This a quiet comfort, almost joy-like, that she didn't expect of Milliways sake.

Adding, "Cullen," when she realized her words hadn't bridged to the lacking connection. "I believe you've met members my family already."

[mogget_cat]

"I have," he purrs against her hand, green eyes half-closed. "I consider myself a friend to Edward Cullen."

[sheisourheart]

His name is white noise in the silence of their house right now.

Esme tested scratching his ears. "He did speak highly of you."

[mogget_cat]

"Does he?" smiles the cat. "I am glad."

"I haven't seen him in a long while."

[sheisourheart]

"How long has it been?"
She does want it to matter.

(But it won't in comparison.)

[mogget_cat]

"A good number of months, perhaps half a year," he answers. "It is not uncommon to go so long, when one's friend doesn't have a stable door."

"How is he?" There's something in her voice...

[sheisourheart]

Oh, but they had one. They had a stable door. In the house in Forks they had a stable door, and if not a stable life any longer, it was at least theirs.

"He's traveling, at present."

[mogget_cat]

Yrael tends to automatically ascribe the absence of friends to unstable doors, even if their door is stable. He'd rather blame the door.

"Oh?" There's a curious perking of ears. "Where to?"

[sheisourheart]

Esme would, too. She'd love to have a door to blame.

"The Breadbasket. Also called the Corn Belt."
Her head cocked slightly, eying the cat.
"Do the names actually help at all?"

[mogget_cat]

"I know of the region, vaguely, though I have never visited," he replies. "My visits to earth tend to be limited to New Orleans, unless it is a special occasion."

[sheisourheart]

"Do you go there often?"

Beat. "Earth, or New Orleans?"