Golden: 1819.

[ofthefamily]

An old face. Calmer, older, and yet all the same unchanged.

At least he's not running for his life, now. And he knows where he is.

For Carlisle Cullen, this is always a good start.

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[themidnightson]

He's reading a book, next to the The Window with a bottle of water balanced on the end of an arm of the chair, which is completely natural for the setting of Milliways to catch him doing.

And it's the calm more than anything that leaves him expecting Carlisle from his own home when he is glancing over the top of the pages when he finishes his paragraph.

[ofthefamily]

Edward.

And Carlisle smiles as though he hasn't seen Edward in years.

[themidnightson]

The breadth of it, the spectrum of emotion in his name and the sudden smile, is a little surprising. Home, being a given, for the most part. But addressed, he does allow his book to close over a finger and lower it toward his lap, with with an eyebrow raising inquiringly.

[ofthefamily]

Carlisle just walks over, sits down, pulls his leg up to cross at the ankle over his other thigh.

Like a human - an overly-practiced one.

"What year is it?"

[themidnightson]

Oh.

He doesn't blink, or shift first. He isn't human, and his reactions aren't, and the first word makes more sense. Causes the lack of reaction to split, the edge, and only the edge, of his lips tugging his cheek upward on one side.

"For me or for you?"

[ofthefamily]

"You're the one that matters?"

[themidnightson]

There's a derisive snort.

"To you."

[ofthefamily]

"That's is still not a year."

[themidnightson]

"2005." He does not say still. The annoyance of that unchanging fact is already compounded upon each time. The number of days is always ludicrious in comparison.

"Years for you." Again. "You're--"

Edward countenance is light, but his gaze is exacting, specific, as though looking through him. Which he is up to a point. Carlisle is only thinking so much though so far.

"--different."

[ofthefamily]

"You said I would change."

The year of our Lord eighteen hundred nineteen. No reason to say it like I remember anymore, but eighteen-nineteen sounds as though I am counting? It is strange.

[themidnightson]

Edward nodded. He's not sad for that. Carlisle started on finding his center, who he is -- who he will be. The person that finds him, eventually. Who...saves him, damns him, forgives him, remakes him a million times over in his image.

The person who gave them all an (almost) unconditional home.
Still he can't help some solemnity that surges. The doubt.

He's had too many decades not showing his real reaction.
The pleasant expression softens, but stays. Mostly.


"Where are you now?"

[ofthefamily]

"Lyon."

Almost reverently: "I'm in schooling now."

[themidnightson]

Edward smiled, without thought to how and why he did.

It's odd. The reverence and the full circle notion of it. And it doesn't really even make it to either of them as a thought. It just sort of bursts against the side of mind and mouth.

[ofthefamily]

Almost worried that Edward is too happy about it, misunderstanding, Carlisle adds, "I just started, first session, just to get comfortable - "

[themidnightson]

Edward Cullen is trying to control his mouth. This is usually not an issue he has. Everyone and everyone they know would be able to point out that truth, for it's better and worst qualities.

Even with his lips pressed closed, when he leans back against the chair back, there's something of it there. In his eyes, of not the the raise of his cheeks.

"What do you think so far?"

[ofthefamily]

"It's...fun?"

[themidnightson]

Edward snorted, quiet. As though the word might have been too small. But he was at least looking at the fact he was closing his book entirely and setting it on his thigh.

"Good."

[ofthefamily]

But then there's that other --

"I may have to move soon, however."

[themidnightson]

Edward brow rose.

It's enough of a question, isn't it?

[ofthefamily]

I probably shouldn't tell you.

But there is the want there.

How much of my current time do you know?

[themidnightson]

"Enough?"

And it is a question. He's thinking about the journals. He has them for eternity in his mind. But they do not have every day of every year. Which is why he's trying to think of what all was covered during that time.

[ofthefamily]

I got into a fight.

Carlisle chews at the corner of his lip, doing his best to obscure the images of it from Edward's view.

[themidnightson]

That's --







-- ludicrous is almost etched in the twitch of his lips.

[ofthefamily]

"Told you I wasn't sure I should say anything about it."

Finally, the effort to keep it away from Edward falls by the wayside.

Vampires. Two of them. Red eyes and a lack of robes and regalia - not Volterra. Harassment and they're finding their next victim but Carlisle has to be here and they will ruin his school.

He socks one in the jaw when the stranger tells him to fuck off. The mate dives for Carlisle next.

[themidnightson]

He asks a question he (thinks he) already knows the answer to.

"Are they still alive?"