1720, Arrival at Volterra.
Gerard and Carlisle walked (or ran) from Arras to the Swiss Alps. The weather has become clearer, harder to go out during the day even if Gerard saw a need for it, so the pair traveled at night only. Gerard only laughed in Carlisle's face at the wolf he kills the first night traveling; Carlisle takes it as a blessing that it did not continue and doesn't broach the topic. He prefers to listen instead of speak to the nomad anyway.
What they do speak of is mostly centered around the coven they are traveling to Tuscany to meet. Gerard tells of the Volturi in nearly reverent terms -- three leaders and their closest mates and vanguard, followed by a large group of servants and underlings. Castles and tunnels to travel during the daylight (Carlisle had wondered how they managed to live for so long in Tuscany), libraries and music and more libraries --
"How had they heard of me?"
Gerard laughs, his vibrant red-orange hair shaking. "The Volturi hear everything, Carlisle. It is about time you were educated."
Carlisle starts to hear the city's guards about a mile outward. It is a mental broadcast unlike anything he has ever heard of in his relatively limited experience as a vampire. Carlisle is to announce himself at the court at nightfall.
Carlisle. Not Carlisle and Gerard.
"They know me already," Gerard shrugs. "You will be fine. You are...of interest."
Carlisle doesn't know whether to thank Gerard for traveling with him or turn on his heel and run back to the French chalk mines. The second option seems far more comfortable than following the two vampires in robes which flank him as soon as he crosses the city gates, but by that point it is too late.
He thinks they are leading him to the center of the city. Volterra is perched dangerously upon one of the slopes that has made Tuscany so famous, with winding passages and walkways, and only the occasional prostitute walks past the trio when they turn into a nondescript archway.
It is too silent, even for Carlisle. All too soon he is abandoned by his (wardens) escort in a room he is just now beginning to take in. Dais at one end, heavy tapestries on the walls that make him wonder if there used to be windows that have since been boarded up behind them. The color in the room would be better with stained glass...
"Carlisle Cullen." The blond snaps out of his thoughts to the chairs on the dais -- thrones -- and the three ancient vampires stepping around them to sit. Two of them sit, at least; one continues around his chair directly towards Carlisle standing at the other end of the long room. The distance is spanned in seconds. The closest one speaks. "Do you prefer English, sir? I am afraid mine might be stilted. I have not often the occasion to use it."
"I..." Carlisle appears temporarily lost, startled by the closeness of this vampire so unlike him. He has become accustomed to never seeing another pair of gold eyes like his own, but whereas Carlisle's skin is still human-like in its consistency if not its color, the vampire who addressed him is so -- fragile-looking.
"Perhaps I will be able to improve my Italian while visiting your city."
One of the two back at the dais smiles. "Look, Aro. Manners."
Without warning, Aro reaches out and locks Carlisle's forearm in a vice grip. Two seconds later he drops Carlisle's arm again, shaking out the shock in his expression before twisting into a pitying sort of smile.
"Oh, Carlisle," Aro croons to him softly. "You should not have been left alone so. We can rectify that here. If you would like to have somewhere to stay."
Carlisle is still debating running to the chalk mines.
Where they scream "Degage-te" at him when Carlisle tries to help.
Timidly: "I was told you have libraries here?"
What they do speak of is mostly centered around the coven they are traveling to Tuscany to meet. Gerard tells of the Volturi in nearly reverent terms -- three leaders and their closest mates and vanguard, followed by a large group of servants and underlings. Castles and tunnels to travel during the daylight (Carlisle had wondered how they managed to live for so long in Tuscany), libraries and music and more libraries --
"How had they heard of me?"
Gerard laughs, his vibrant red-orange hair shaking. "The Volturi hear everything, Carlisle. It is about time you were educated."
Carlisle starts to hear the city's guards about a mile outward. It is a mental broadcast unlike anything he has ever heard of in his relatively limited experience as a vampire. Carlisle is to announce himself at the court at nightfall.
Carlisle. Not Carlisle and Gerard.
"They know me already," Gerard shrugs. "You will be fine. You are...of interest."
Carlisle doesn't know whether to thank Gerard for traveling with him or turn on his heel and run back to the French chalk mines. The second option seems far more comfortable than following the two vampires in robes which flank him as soon as he crosses the city gates, but by that point it is too late.
He thinks they are leading him to the center of the city. Volterra is perched dangerously upon one of the slopes that has made Tuscany so famous, with winding passages and walkways, and only the occasional prostitute walks past the trio when they turn into a nondescript archway.
It is too silent, even for Carlisle. All too soon he is abandoned by his (wardens) escort in a room he is just now beginning to take in. Dais at one end, heavy tapestries on the walls that make him wonder if there used to be windows that have since been boarded up behind them. The color in the room would be better with stained glass...
"Carlisle Cullen." The blond snaps out of his thoughts to the chairs on the dais -- thrones -- and the three ancient vampires stepping around them to sit. Two of them sit, at least; one continues around his chair directly towards Carlisle standing at the other end of the long room. The distance is spanned in seconds. The closest one speaks. "Do you prefer English, sir? I am afraid mine might be stilted. I have not often the occasion to use it."
"I..." Carlisle appears temporarily lost, startled by the closeness of this vampire so unlike him. He has become accustomed to never seeing another pair of gold eyes like his own, but whereas Carlisle's skin is still human-like in its consistency if not its color, the vampire who addressed him is so -- fragile-looking.
"Perhaps I will be able to improve my Italian while visiting your city."
One of the two back at the dais smiles. "Look, Aro. Manners."
Without warning, Aro reaches out and locks Carlisle's forearm in a vice grip. Two seconds later he drops Carlisle's arm again, shaking out the shock in his expression before twisting into a pitying sort of smile.
"Oh, Carlisle," Aro croons to him softly. "You should not have been left alone so. We can rectify that here. If you would like to have somewhere to stay."
Carlisle is still debating running to the chalk mines.
Where they scream "Degage-te" at him when Carlisle tries to help.
Timidly: "I was told you have libraries here?"