A THREAD featuring CIRILLA FIONA ELEN RIANNON ( @aiesin ).
teething nights. fleeting sights. the aperture does not shift in this darkness, as the clamouring cacophonies ripple from a distance away, the gala held by the volturi another ennui amidst the routines. itās a common complacency, in which he places himself between their clasped incisors, their beliefs in him a mere illusion considering that both entities know they are there to fulfil their own needs. edward, with his violent streaks, with his unbound means. and the volturi found a good use of him, a way to channel the unabridged vices that keep tiding in his vitriol veins. he sinks into the sought silence for a moment, vacating the premise as soon as the companies were being somewhat lenient on his presenceāthe onslaught of their curiosities still linger, for sure, but he chooses to cease entertaining them every now and then, when convenient.
and so, tonight as he left the crowding scene, a reprieve is proffered by the moment. the cool breeze of the late hour caresses as he exits the parameters, knowing that heās without anyone else in this quietude. and as soon as he enters the heart of the city, unveiled as he pushes down his hood with his mask deposited safely in his inner pocket, he believes that this is supposed to be a peaceful oneā¦ except, he sees a cluster of vampires passing by, seemingly none of the volturiās network. heād know a myriad of the familiar faces despite the short months heās been dedicating his service, and they are not in the cluster. might be opportunists, seeking troubles in the middle of having the authorities in the disoriented mood. it feels like it, and he draws his hood again to remain nondescript as he stalks them, closing the distance in-between to obtain information from their minds.
thoughts, arbitrary. the surge of hunger, almost intoxicating in nature with its contagion. he finds himself in the foreign corner that might not be where he should belongā¦ but neither should they. in the slum of the city is the smoked waft of scent. inhumane, almostā¦ fae? heās not entirely a walking tyrant in his knowledge, some other creatures more vibrant in their scents but heās never noticed this one. a mixture of something strange, but alluring regardless, and so, when the group of four vampires close into the girlās presence, he is gripped by her conundrums before he realises that he might let them prey on her in his distraction. not from here, not from now. a massive concern, eclipsing the current debacle that closes in on her. he sighs, knowing that there is no such a thing as solace in the face of fates.
except, this might be another selfish push. the intrigue might be one factor, but he feels extremely famished of actions as of lateāthe silence doesnāt fit him unless when he feels like it. the static in terms of service towards the volturi might be a good signal for some, but it also means less brutalities for him. thus, when they corner her, the blonde now at the end of the alleyway, edward takes some time to imbibe their surroundings. no passersby. they all have made sure of that, so heād rather not invite any unwanted attention himself. a hooded figure is quite incognito in this placeāas such, he finds his footing effortlessly as the vampires crowd around the stranger while she tends to her inner turmoil.
a subdued exhale out of frustration later, he is at the corner of the alley as the vampires close in onto her. a clack of tongue is all that it takes to have them notice his otherwise disguised smell, the presence eventually dawning onto the flock. āi suppose a nightās dinner cannot escape you,ā he says, shrugging. āit is not welcomed in our territory. the feeding, i mean.ā
