on the other end of the wishbone is @efflorese,Ā as jane volturi.
on his mind is a barricade of thoughts, making him feel like heās in a trance similar to that of sleeping adrift. the rem state that heās missed for a century is the stigmata that heās kept for so long, accompanying him in reveries like this. he doesnāt feel like atoning for his mind tonight, letting it wander as the static city spread before him nods along with the silent lullaby. volterra tastes like an aftermath of a war that heās never fought, dreamed precisely as it is supposed to be. it is almost like a second home, and it could have been. as the volturi once considered him, he could have been a strong candidate for their army of guards. his gift could have been honed better, faster. stronger. and the only crevasse between him and that status has always been one and only: the olympics, to whom heās pledged his loyalty to. and sometimes, he wonders if itās wisdom. wonders if itās not.
the deed is done. decision made, but here he is, sitting on an edge of the sienna stoned barrister, watching the city in a lone stance of wistful penance. it still feels like home, somehow. still feels that the olympicsā diet doesnāt fit him all that well after all those decades, their preemptive apprehension sometimes cannot be helped. he shouldnāt really swerve his thoughts that way. it pinpricks, still, for no matter how hard heās tried, heās still shamed by the idea of losing control, haunting his every second with them. so, in the silence contained by this air, he lets all those control loose, the atmospheric white noise the affirmation that heās somewhat safe. not that he often feels fears. heās strong enough as he is of a predator. the cognitive dissonance, however, is what tricks him into believing that heās standing on a precarious balance, a tightrope that spans between him and his family.
when the swarming launch of anotherās thoughts swims into his scope, his own thoughts rescinded themselves. she notices his presence with no difficulties, and he knows that she knows sheās always welcome when it comes to intruding his personal space. jane is one of the rare instances of people besides his family that he doesnāt mind. in fact, heās always been fascinated by her abilities ā mentally, physically. and as the volturi might have left it unsaid, he can perhaps train his telepathic strengths that way: to whisk illusions, maybe more of hypnotic tendencies. he can be one of them has he wished so, which is a strong statement. but alas, they werenāt the ones saving him, and there are some limits edward doesnāt cross. she draws closer, her footfalls resonate only in his mind. sheās never covert, in a sense. her presence, even with such a small stature, often imposes. even more so when sheās being in charge, but this time itās not the case. he waits for her to approach him fully, strides closing the distance between them. ācanāt sleep?ā he asks, dryly jesting. he blocks her thoughts out of courtesy, as usual to maintain a taste of real interactions exchanged between them.
