❛ you shouldn’t be out here by yourself. ❜
@doctrcullen (hello & thank you!)
She releases a scoff, fingers curling into her palm with underlying frustration now bubbling closer to the surface. She's been considerably tame for a newborn; the destruction and chaos expected of one hasn't seemed to find her, but she's always reminded about her capability for death and despair.
Amongst both Carlisle and Edward's warnings comes a hazy memory of parents (whose faces she cannot recall) delivering warnings in much the same fashion, although these came with the threat of becoming a spinster. The antes are of considerably different value, but the familiar urgency in both causes a bitter taste to rest in Esme's mouth. She has yet to try human food again after her tranformation, but she imagines it taste much like this.
"I needed to breathe," she answers, painfully aware that such actions are entirely defunct. It's a poor excuse and she knows he'll naturally not believe her. "Something about the outside air calms me."
Flashes of rolling fields and chicken pens come back to her every now and then. If he needs to touch her, Esme recalls trees and broken legs. Yes, it makes sense she prefers the outdoors more than being cooped up inside like an unruly dog.
"Don't worry. If an unsuspecting human comes along I'm sure you'll have me by the scruff before my fangs can find their jugular."
