My Saviour, My Love
Esme remembered him; his golden hair, pale skin and ice cold yet comforting touch seared into her memory and into her flesh. She had never forgotten who he was and had held him up as an example of what a man could be. She had thought of him many times over the years, dreaming about him when she had questioned God if there could ever be goodness in a man.
When he had found her, clinging to the life she had thrown off of a cliff, he had changed her and Esme had been reborn from the ashes of her former life. The memories of her human life had been dulled somewhat, as though there had been a thin sheet like mist covering them. The pain of what she had experienced however had not dulled, instead it had burned all the brighter and hotter within her. Her emotions had been a mess for such a long time, she had felt so much and she had wondered how the strength of these emotions could exist within one being, how much pain she would endure.
She had tried to distract herself but there was only so much that could be done. Even the thirst was only a slight distraction and after she had tended to that beast within her, she had returned to her rumination. She had embroidered a few things for both Edward and Carlisle but her fingers had still been restless. She had tried the piano but had not found it to be well suited to her. She had been set upon learning an instrument and so she had plucked away at the strings of violins and cellos. She had found the deeper movements of the cello to be more suited to what she wished to express.
She had sat that day on the window seat, the cello leaning against the wall beside her, the bow resting on one outstretched leg, the other curled beneath her as she looked out at the sun rising in the sky. She could enjoy the sunrise in a way she had never been able to before, her keen eyes able to fully discern the different shades of colours as the light burst into being and the world awakened to it’s warm touch. Esme reached out, her finger tracing the patterns of flowers she recalled from the garden of her childhood home, against the surface of the glass.
She could feel him when he entered the room, something deep within her pulling, yearning, as though her very spirit recognised his own as being the only companion she had ever needed. To think that within this torment as Edward viewed it, she had found this small peace.
“Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning. I always wondered where that came from.” Esme’s voice was almost like a song as she spoke. It had taken her quite some time to become accustomed to the change in her voice. She had never been particularly lyrical to begin with but that was something else she had gained from her transformation.
@humanbound
