#lovedlamb

the mug in jacob’s hands released thin tendrils of steam that drifted into the cool morning air, and he watched them as if they could carry his thoughts. the coffee was strong, bitter—just the way he liked it—and the thick scent filled his nostrils, filling his lungs with something that was almost comforting. there was no sugar, no rush this morning. just the crisp air brushing the leaves, the slow creak of tall trees in the distance, and, if he concentrated, the steady sound of waves crashing against the rocks in the sea to the south.

jacob sat in the old wooden chair on the porch in silence. he was dressed in a dark t-shirt and sweatpants, his body too warm to care about the cold breeze that swept steadily through the reservation. his bare feet touched the worn wood of the floor, and he seemed anchored there.

his eyes slowly swept the line of towering trees, where the sky was beginning to lighten into dull shades of gray and silver.

It's a little funny. This Jasper is somewhat used to. Fresh vampires blurring around, breaking things, doing what they would normally as a human only to find it didn't work quite as well. Bella's shattered phone on the floor is proof of that. He's somewhat grateful he'd never had to learn to regulate strength with such small fiddly objects. Wood boards and fabric tore just as easily but he knows how attached people can get to technology. He crouches to swipe the thankfully still in tact sim card.

@lovedlamb (hello & thank you!)

She's immediately shaking her head, gentle curls brushing against her shirt as they follow. "No, no, I think you've made an excellent argument here," she replies, moving the cursor of her mouse over the paragraph she's speaking of. "You really understand the characters and the context of their time and situation— why do you think it's too much?"

Her question is genuine. Esme was like Bella once. She wishes she could have gone to school now, been able to get her teeth into literary analyses like Bella is able to do, but being able to proof read her essays satiates it enough, at least for now. Otherwise she'll be finding herself pursuing a literature degree.

Then again, she's not sure why she hasn't bothered before. That the issue with eternity. Later is always a possibility.

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐀𝐓𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄  𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍  𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐇  𝐃𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐄𝐑        and  Bella  had  been  comfortable  since  day  one,  a   mutual  understanding   of  their  uniqueness  that  would   constantly   just  be  left  unspoken.  While  neither  of  them  had  directly  asked  about  the  other  ones   …   predicament,  each  of  them  understood  how  the  other  wasn’t  entirely  human.  That  there  was  something  just  a  little  bit  off,  and  for  them  that  worked  out  in  their  favor.  It  had  all  started  by  a   simple  interaction   between  Dex  and  Carlisle,  a   kindness  shared  between  medical  professionals   and  a  desire  to  learn. 

That  had  grown  to  him  being  intertwined  into  the  Cullen  family  somehow,  not  becoming  friends  with  all  of  them  but  he  had   grown  to  have  a  fondness   for  each  member.  His  heart  in  particular  had  grown  warm  towards  Bella,  who  was  the  newest  edition  to  the  family.  It  hadn’t  taken  him  long  to  figure  out  that  she  was  turning  down  his  offerings  of  tea  and  snacks   not  just   out  of  politeness,  and  had  decided  to  just  leave  it  at  that  for  now.  It  wasn’t  really  important  to  their  friendship  anyways.  Even  now,  as  he  carefully  sat  down  beside  her  in  the  home  he  was  renting  out  in  Forks  for  the  time  being,  he  didn’t  bother  to  bring  her  tea   ⸻   only  having  some  for  himself.

The  strong  smell  of  ginger  filled  the  living  area  as  Dexter  clutched  both  sides  of  the  mug  carefully  in  both  hands,  thumb   absently  tracing   along  the  patterns  of  the  rather  poorly  formed  ceramic.  A   tender  smile   split  along  thin  lips,  eyes  a  bit  downcast  out  of  habit.  To  anyone  else  it  might   seem   like  he  was  watching  the  tea  in  his  mug  swirl  and  ripple,  or  perhaps  seeing  through  it  and  off  somewhere  else   ⸻   but  he  hadn’t  had  working  eyesight  in   over  a  decade.  They  both  knew  that  well. 

He  was  a   little  shocked   by  Bella’s  admittance  to  being  tired,   especially   since  he  was  well  aware  she  wasn’t  physically  capable  of  such  a  thing   ⸻   but  mental  exhaustion  was  different,  and  it  was  a  sensation  he  was   all  too  familiar  with   himself.    ‘  It’s  nothing,  I’m  just  tired  ’     were  the  words  spoken  by  her,  and  he  found  himself  moving  a  hand  away  from  the  mug  to  give  a   tender  squeeze   to  her  knee.  A   familial   touch,  meant  to  be  nothing  more  than  an  attempt  at  comfort.    “  There  must  be  a  lot  on  your  mind  to  feel  so  tired,  ”     he  responded  just  as  gently,  taking  a  sip  of  the  ginger  tea  he  had  made  for  himself. 

Dexter’s  nose  wrinkled  a  little  bit  at  the  taste.  It  was  a  bit  strong  for  his  liking,  but  it  was   supposed   to  have  good  healing  properties   ⸻   and  while  he  wasn’t  a   full  believer   in  the  the  so  called  science  behind  teas  and  their  healing  properties,  he  would   always   be  searching  for  something  to  lessen  the  pain  behind  his  eyes  a  bit.  That  pressure  would  always  be  there.    “  What’s  on  your  mind,  kiddo?  How  can  I  help?  ”

BELLA SWAN: SHIVER. SENDER LOSES TOO MUCH BLOOD AND COLLAPSES IN FRONT OF RECEIVER.

the scent hit her first — sharp, metallic, sweet in that devastating way only blood could be. then came the sound: a stagger in breath, the unsteady rhythm of feet, and the unmistakable collapse of a body meeting the floor. genevieve was there before the silence could settle. she knelt beside bella, careful hands catching her before her head hit the floor. black curls fell over her shoulder as she cradled the girl in her arms. bella’s skin was pale — too pale — and her pulse, though still present, was flickering like a candle pressed too close to the wind. 'mon dieu —' genevieve's eyes were violet dark and glowing faintly in the low light of the room, scanning the source of the blood loss; which was too much and leaving bella too quickly. she needed to know who did this, but in this state, bella clearly could not answer any questions.