There's a motion of his hand upward, meaning specifically his gift. It's not a complaint. It's not even pitying or heavy. Eighty-seven years is far too long to carry it like a weight. It is the air now, weightless and insubstantial and necessary to how he lives.
Even when Carlisle has turned it into an iron weight. Even Alice is only in so far, never in his mind, if ever in the land between their gifts, where no other can go but the other. Carlisle reminded him of that, too. A reminder he can bare without burdening either with the complicated truth of it.
He doesn't shift. He already thinks of the Bella thing as a divider enough, being reminder there are other immovable lines between his family isn't pleasant. Even when they invoked on the confessions of the twined coil of selfishness and selflessness.
"Do you want me to know?"
Edward is not certain he wants to know what would send Carlisle running to him, spouting all of that, still curtaining himself behind an endless assortment of distractions.
no subject
There's a motion of his hand upward, meaning specifically his gift. It's not a complaint. It's not even pitying or heavy. Eighty-seven years is far too long to carry it like a weight. It is the air now, weightless and insubstantial and necessary to how he lives.
Even when Carlisle has turned it into an iron weight. Even Alice is only in so far, never in his mind, if ever in the land between their gifts, where no other can go but the other. Carlisle reminded him of that, too. A reminder he can bare without burdening either with the complicated truth of it.
He doesn't shift. He already thinks of the Bella thing as a divider enough, being reminder there are other immovable lines between his family isn't pleasant. Even when they invoked on the confessions of the twined coil of selfishness and selflessness.
"Do you want me to know?"
Edward is not certain he wants to know what would send Carlisle running to him, spouting all of that, still curtaining himself behind an endless assortment of distractions.