Strangefellows, late-night.
Edward had convinced him to go to London. Face his fears, such as they were. For as much as Carlisle is growing to enjoy having a companion? Edward’s abilities are going to take him a long while to grow comfortable with. It is in that vein that Carlisle goes out for a walk. ‘I’ll be right back,’ Carlisle thought at Edward, who smiled at the truth of it.
Carlisle discovers he is walking in circles about half an hour later, mind lost and fogged over with the sounds of being in a country he had long since forsaken. Even his practiced and smooth American accent is slipping (in his mind only; Carlisle speaks to no one on the street).
Vampires do not have heartbeats -- in this vein, Carlisle always wears a watch. The simple ticking becomes an internal clock instead of an external one. It’s useful -- until it stops.
‘It was 9 o’ clock when I left the hotel room,’ Carlisle thinks to himself, his watch stopped ahead six hours from that time. Tapping the watch face does nothing except reflect what little light there is in this unknown neighborhood. Gold eyes search out in the dark for a street sign, anything. He shouldn’t have been so absentminded --
The street turns from pavement to cobblestone, faded gray-silver bricks in the road and Carlisle sees the cement and foundation of the road separate from one another. Older.
Via Appia. Rome.
A quick left away from the specter of Italy brings Carlisle to a darkened door with lettering overhead even he doesn't understand. He should go find Edward.
He walks inside the bar.
Carlisle discovers he is walking in circles about half an hour later, mind lost and fogged over with the sounds of being in a country he had long since forsaken. Even his practiced and smooth American accent is slipping (in his mind only; Carlisle speaks to no one on the street).
Vampires do not have heartbeats -- in this vein, Carlisle always wears a watch. The simple ticking becomes an internal clock instead of an external one. It’s useful -- until it stops.
‘It was 9 o’ clock when I left the hotel room,’ Carlisle thinks to himself, his watch stopped ahead six hours from that time. Tapping the watch face does nothing except reflect what little light there is in this unknown neighborhood. Gold eyes search out in the dark for a street sign, anything. He shouldn’t have been so absentminded --
The street turns from pavement to cobblestone, faded gray-silver bricks in the road and Carlisle sees the cement and foundation of the road separate from one another. Older.
Via Appia. Rome.
A quick left away from the specter of Italy brings Carlisle to a darkened door with lettering overhead even he doesn't understand. He should go find Edward.
He walks inside the bar.