some things not even the ability to hear one’s innermost thoughts could alleviate. perhaps it was illogical, in that way; irrational, given that there is no possible scenario that could be thought of that edward would not be privy to the moment it happened. and yet : 𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒𝐍'𝐓 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌. perhaps it was simply an old habit, refusing to die in the pyre, wherein others may have been more forgiving [ or, indifferent ]. heart neither cold, nor easily accessible, leaves him in an uncertain limbo, regarding the twins. welcomed into his coven’s home, into their world, their . . . . family. it wouldn’t have been his choice, but it’s not his coven, nor his decision; and it is one that he bears without a grin, tongue bitten more often than not.
if time heals all wounds, these are still far too fresh for his liking, too deep, too real to how badly they could have been. how much could have been lost. not uncommon, then, to find him taking refuge in the woods. familiar, and calming; but most importantly, away from the house that is suddenly too crowded, with too much unspoken discord [ if only from him ] to be anything less than suffocating. he should have known that his tranquility wouldn’t last forever, stopping mid-turn to the next page in his book when the air shifts; the spell of the forest broken.
“ ———— i would watch my step if i were you. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 but this is still their land. their benevolence may not extend to those who have not yet earned their favor. but, if you try to, i wish you the best of luck. you’ll need it. ”
