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]

"Wow. I become terribly predictable then."

[themidnightson]

His lips tugged faintly at one side, more of twitch, really.

"It's makes Christmas easy." When they remember, at least.

[ofthefamily]

Christmas.

How foreign.

[themidnightson]

"We forget as much as we remember."

And it's not yet a national holiday in Carlisle's New World across the ocean.

[ofthefamily]

"Still."

They are walking without a real goal in mind beyond inside, but now that it's settled into Carlisle's head that Edward said yes, he -- there's no map here.

[themidnightson]

"There are birthdays, too. Wedding's occasionally. No one's ever been all that fond of July 4th ever, though there were rounds of fights on of the Boxing Day's a long time ago. Holiday's really aren't our suit."

He's rambling. Edward doesn't ramble. Ever. And he is.

"But they use it as an excuse to redecorate the house regardless."

[ofthefamily]

Holidays and houses and redecorating?

It's almost bordering on the absurd.

"Sounds lovely," he offers quietly, and he holds the door open for Edward to walk in ahead of him.

[themidnightson]

A memory flicks by. It's a rare word.
It's harder not to remember right now.






His eyebrows lift. "Absurdly lovely?"

[ofthefamily]

Carlisle exhales.

"Sorry for that. It just is so out of my realm of experience."

[themidnightson]

"Don't apologize." Or at least not for that. Edward almost cringes at the second thought, but he doesn't. Doesn't even blink for the smallest pause, before sharing his head.

"It's fine. It took a long time for everyone to adjust each time."

He'd know, he watched it, heard it, even when they thought they were fine.

[ofthefamily]

"And you don't fight?"

[themidnightson]

There's a sound between a snort and chuckle, lost somewhere like a too fast pulled in breath. Complicated, but amused none the less.

"Not as much anymore."

[ofthefamily]

Carlisle is impressed - it's the first coven that he's heard of that doesn't --

[themidnightson]

"Family."

Is a soft prompt. A reminder.





A slander against what he's done today.

He wants to convince himself Alice would understand.

[ofthefamily]

"Yes. Of course," he returns chagrined.

New vocabulary, new comprehension.

[themidnightson]

"There have been some impressive ones." Edward conceded, reluctantly.

[ofthefamily]

Carlisle won't ask. Not right now.

(Not when he knows how tenuous the current arrangement is.)

"Library? Somewhere else?"

[themidnightson]

Edward nodded, with a glance that was something like the equivalent of a shrug. "I could return my book."

[ofthefamily]

Carlisle remembers the way.

The library is comforting in its own way, and known space to Edward and Carlisle both, outside of a bedroom that Carlisle left behind a decade ago.

[themidnightson]

It's less than half a second to recollect the book abandoned on the arm of the chair, and the other half of it to cross the stairs following where Carlisle went. Even if he does pause before the door.

It's the first time he thinks he could just turn around.

Turn around. Walk down the stairs. Walk through his Door.
Be where . . be who . . he's supposed to be.



He closed his eyes as he pushed open the door. Opened them as the wooden panels split the world to reveal another one of books and Carlisle's back, and for a moment

-- hand raised but not touching as he was reading down spine and the way he held his head tilted, beautiful just as he is, normal and ordinary and everything extraordinary in his world, his, ohgodCarlisle, his to the point where he probably could just stride over slam him against a shelf and kiss him delirious again --

Edward can't remember why there's any other option.




It doesn't stay, but Edward does.
Leaning his cheek against the door, watching.

[ofthefamily]

Watching Carlisle.

Who notices. After a moment.

A light smile. "Yes?"

[themidnightson]

Edward smirked, barely. It drug his lips a touch canted. The closest he's come to mouth making that shape it was before Carlisle mentioned Edward looking at him like he could hurt him.

"It's more absurd that you expect me to have any words."

[ofthefamily]

"I don't, actually. You just always appear to have some waiting to make an appearance."

[themidnightson]

"Not always." A concession of truth.

"But I make a valiant effort at times."

[ofthefamily]

"I can only imagine."

But your words are your own, unless you'd want me to hear them.