Dr. Carlisle Cullen (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ofthefamily) wrote2009-08-03 07:39 am
ofthefamily) wrote2009-08-03 07:39 am
Entry tags:
Volterra - Studies.
It's getting harder to leave the city to feed. There has been no edict or decree from the dais to stop Carlisle from going out, but even when he leaves in the red cloaks required of him, the guards mumble and make a great show of unsuccessfully trying not to stare. Carlisle never looks anyone in the eye -- gold eye meeting red here never wins him anything.
It's nearly dawn; he's running late and the gates will already be closed. Aro is going to be displeased but Carlisle can't focus on that. It's time to hide. With the coins in his purse Carlisle had thought to carry while walking through Volterra he is able to pay for a room for the day at a small inn as close as possible to the south gate. The innkeeper apologetically shows him to a small windowless room claiming it as his only vacancy. Carlisle is magnanimous about accepting it. A boy comes by later to bring Carlisle water to wash the grime of the street from him and all Carlisle can hear is the crackling in the boy's chest. The boy hasn't seen a doctor in some time, the innkeeper mentions; Carlisle pays the man to go buy him supplies.
He leaves after nightfall, the boy's breathing eased some and Carlisle is smiling.
They've culled the human herd again. Carlisle can smell it from the library. He slams his latest book shut, leaving the library and making his way to the lower parts of the building. The reek is stronger in the tunnels; Carlisle nearly laughs at himself calling it a 'reek' since it smells so fragrant to him (simply because he does not drink it does not mean it does not smell pleasant) but he refrains himself for the higher interest of remaining utterly silent. He does not want to be seen here.
The bodies of the dead are left in special rooms to be disposed of later. Those tasked with doing so have yet to arrive so Carlisle slips in unnoticed and finds an adult male, late into his twenties, mostly unblemished if Carlisle doesn't look too hard at the gaping hole in the man's throat. Someone had been inefficient.
"Hello Carlisle."
Carlisle is turning the man's liver over in his hands when he is startled by Sulpicia, Aro's wife, in the doorway. She is smiling.
Oh no.
"I wasn't -- I don't want you to think that -- "
"Carlisle," Sulpicia shushed him with one pale hand raised, "You have nothing to be ashamed of. It's only natural that you would eventually want to come and feel what is meant for our kind on your own terms."
Carlisle stiffens nearly to a growl. "That is not what I was doing here Sulpicia." His protests are useless, but he knows Aro will believe him. He has to, with his talent. Aro has to see. Someone does.
Sulpicia leaves and Carlisle practices his stitches.
It's nearly dawn; he's running late and the gates will already be closed. Aro is going to be displeased but Carlisle can't focus on that. It's time to hide. With the coins in his purse Carlisle had thought to carry while walking through Volterra he is able to pay for a room for the day at a small inn as close as possible to the south gate. The innkeeper apologetically shows him to a small windowless room claiming it as his only vacancy. Carlisle is magnanimous about accepting it. A boy comes by later to bring Carlisle water to wash the grime of the street from him and all Carlisle can hear is the crackling in the boy's chest. The boy hasn't seen a doctor in some time, the innkeeper mentions; Carlisle pays the man to go buy him supplies.
He leaves after nightfall, the boy's breathing eased some and Carlisle is smiling.
They've culled the human herd again. Carlisle can smell it from the library. He slams his latest book shut, leaving the library and making his way to the lower parts of the building. The reek is stronger in the tunnels; Carlisle nearly laughs at himself calling it a 'reek' since it smells so fragrant to him (simply because he does not drink it does not mean it does not smell pleasant) but he refrains himself for the higher interest of remaining utterly silent. He does not want to be seen here.
The bodies of the dead are left in special rooms to be disposed of later. Those tasked with doing so have yet to arrive so Carlisle slips in unnoticed and finds an adult male, late into his twenties, mostly unblemished if Carlisle doesn't look too hard at the gaping hole in the man's throat. Someone had been inefficient.
"Hello Carlisle."
Carlisle is turning the man's liver over in his hands when he is startled by Sulpicia, Aro's wife, in the doorway. She is smiling.
Oh no.
"I wasn't -- I don't want you to think that -- "
"Carlisle," Sulpicia shushed him with one pale hand raised, "You have nothing to be ashamed of. It's only natural that you would eventually want to come and feel what is meant for our kind on your own terms."
Carlisle stiffens nearly to a growl. "That is not what I was doing here Sulpicia." His protests are useless, but he knows Aro will believe him. He has to, with his talent. Aro has to see. Someone does.
Sulpicia leaves and Carlisle practices his stitches.