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.

Comments

[ofthefamily]

The questioning for specifics leaves Carlisle a little uncertain.

"...Whatever you'd like to actually talk about."

[themidnightson]

The furthest most corners Edward's mouth thinned, focus unshifted, as though the only thing before him at all was Carlisle. "It was your question, your curiosity."

[ofthefamily]

"But should I even know? What is safe? Of course I'm curious. About everything - but I am not the arbiter of knowledge here."

[themidnightson]

"If something was going to upset what was safe and right temporally, I doubt it is was-"

There is a discerning part-narrowing to his eyes, with glance far more purposely leading, down and then back up Carlisle. It's hard to tell if this is serious or leading, whether it is a joking reference to what all they've done already, become already, or something he's seriously spent a good deal of time wondering if he's ruined.

"-words." There is no regret though, only supposition in his phrase.

Edward would never be the greatest judge of what not to give Carlisle. After all, he'd started with his life, self, loyalty, heart and existence the very first year.

[ofthefamily]

"Am I ever successful with regards to medicine?"

[themidnightson]

"Quite."

[ofthefamily]

"And I practice?"

As a human, Carlisle assumes.

[themidnightson]

Edward nodded, almost saying it was the basis for everything about how they lived their lives.

[ofthefamily]

"As is the night before some festival
To an impatient child that hath new robes
And may not wear them…”

[themidnightson]

Edward can't help that one side of his mouth tugs up, mouth canted crooked more at the method than what it means. "You're getting there now."

[ofthefamily]

"By fidgeting in class."

[themidnightson]

His words are...the proper word is not soft. They are quieter, but it's not in volume, as much as modulation. There are certain things Edward can not say without a far more tilt toward deference, certain things that are so important they can not be said anyway but lightly, banked in understanding only garnered through decades of you-can't-change-this and it-all-started-here.

"No more mortuaries and allies, or bodies cast aside by them." His glance isn't exactly away, but it shifts some. And it's not a straight statement or reminder, when he edges only slightly closer. "Fidgeting is a small price to learning in the light."

[ofthefamily]

You make it sound so...

[themidnightson]

Edward's expression only shifted inquiringly, letting him think.

[ofthefamily]

"Noble."

[themidnightson]

"It's who you are, and what you've chosen." Chose.

And he doesn't stipulate if he means the calling, or Carlisle's term.

[ofthefamily]

Carlisle reflexively interprets it as the former.

This whole situation is bizarre.

[themidnightson]

Edward snorted, his face contorting dangerously close to a smile even behind the hand that rose to it. "I hadn't noticed."

[ofthefamily]

"You agree with me, don't even try to hide that -- "

A mild protest to covering his expression (his smile) Carlisle pushes at Edward's hand to shoo it away from providing cover.

[themidnightson]

Edward twisted his wrist fast, to catch the hand at his, as he shook his head. His lips stayed in the crooked smile, perhaps strayed even further with his low, teasing tone.

"I could still be undecided." You know, with Carlisle's hand still in his, and him choosing to take another step into Carlisle's space. It could happen. In some alternate universe. "You've had far more time to think about it."

[ofthefamily]

Far too close to be comfortable, it all comes out in a rush, "And if you thought any of this was normal, you wouldn't look at me half the time as though I could hurt you."

[themidnightson]

It stops. Almost like a clock.

Edward doesn't release the hand, but his fingers are almost instead a loop. Holding, more than touching. And his smile. Isn't much of a smile. And the contents of sensation inside his chest, at that truth inherent...

He went to take a step back.

[ofthefamily]

"You're leaving?" Now?

[themidnightson]

He makes it the one step. Without releasing the hand.



His thoughts don't make coherent lines even.




He doesn't sigh. He doesn't want to pretend that much.



His eyes end up at his hand on Carlisle's, not even clear enough to stay on whether he should let go. "You can." Isn't broken. Isn't soft or loud. And has nothing to do with his most recent question, but with the statement that stuck, and is far too close into you will.

[ofthefamily]

"But -- goodness sake, Edward, why -- "