∾⋞ ESME ⋟∾

she listens to him like a parent might when their child is babbling on about
something menial. with patience and a smile. Demetri was an interesting 
addition to their little family — one that she hadn’t even considered in her
wildest dreams. a young man stolen from his family and reoriented with
manipulation and thoughts of power. 

 power, in her opinion went hand in hand with L O V E. really, power was 
 a show. it was a front. she remembers power — and not kindly. it lingers
 in her memories as her husband’s hands, the bruises he left, and the fear
 he made her feel. THAT was what power was to men like Aro.
                                                    ( and maybe to Demetri too. )

but real power — not that brute strength he displayed came in the bond you
forged with another being. LOVE between people achieves so much more. 
Esme had loved her child more than she’d loved her husband, and that had
given her the power to run. 

 Esme had loved Carlisle enough to stay with him, to stay vegetarian all this
 time, and Edward had loved them both enough to come back after leaving.
 her family had loved Nessie enough to bond together. strangers had loved
 Nessie enough to stand with them. and in the end?  THEY WON. 

          “ yes. once upon a time. you and i both know that time is a
         fickle friend. memories even more so. and, speaking of 
            memories — i’d like to hear a few of yours, if you’ve the 
            patience to listen to me first? ” 

it seems as though she’s ignoring his thoughts on her family, or, in his words,
her coven. she’s not, Esme’s simply taking a roundabout way to get to them.
she stands, motioning that it’s time their walk begin. her family is stirring in
the depths of the house, and this is a conversation they don’t need to overhear. 

          “ Carlisle is my husband. I’m his wife. We met when I was 16, I’d
             broken my leg tumbling from a tree. Mind you, it wasn’t until ten
             years later that he turned me. —- I jumped off a cliff. I think I had
             put too much love out into the world, and received so little back. ” 

a small sigh leaves her lips, a noise of remembering. a smile quirks up her
mouth and an onlooker might be surprised to find it rather happy. 

                                      “ Do you remember your mother, Demetri? ” 

she doesn’t pause, only looks over at him before continuing to talk. it’s a 
question that he’ll answer in time — but right now it’s her turn to teach him
something. 

“ — I remember mine.
    She always wanted the best for me, the best dresses, the best
    name, the best future. I remember her brushing my hair, getting
    the curls to sit just right against my shoulders. I’m fortunate to
    remember a lot about my human life — mostly my mother.
           —— You see, it’s this that gives us more say. The fact that I’m
                 older than all my children, the fact that I call them my kids.
                 It’s rare, but sometimes you’ll hear some of them call me
                 mom. Mostly Emmett and Rosalie, mind you, but a name
                 is a name regardless of who calls you it. ” 

and now she pauses, looks him over and lets her hand brush his, a smile
still on her face as she does so. it’s a fond smile, reflecting all the love in 
her life. 

“ So — do you remember her? ”

there is little interest in the tangle of words that spill from the matriarch’s
lips. time was only given to the collective paramours the tracker had from across
the world, impressing them of the rich history of his existence, the sonnets of
love, the prodigal skill for music & the arts. in the egyptian coven, one was free
to do as he wishes —– with the watchful eyes of amun behind his back. in the volturi,
none walked & talked of their fragile, useless human lives. they lived in the present
& in solitude, power and loyalty above all.

what use is the past when there is nothing to look back at ?
 not the volturi. not amun and his followers. not his petty human life.

            “ The world is a cruel place. ”

but he listens, as form of respect for one of those who granted him the privilege
of living in a free life, she who adopted him as if he was not one of the biggest
threat to their coven.

“ All I remember about my mother is her songs.
        —————————— and her lyre.
       She sang at banquets and large feasts.
       Her singing to me as I fall asleep, I can also recall.
       But her voice  faded  over time, drowned in the  ECSTASY
       of the people I pleasured. ”

the image of his mother should have flashed in his mind, but instead, it is the
faces of women and men as they cried his name. carnal desires and the lust for
one’s flesh. demetri wonders, vaguely, if the true purpose of their walk is to
draw him to the humanity of carlisle’s coven.

       he knows it would take some time.
                centuries at least.

       “ I want to be of use to this coven.
         My talent is very valuable.
               Is there anything I can do ? ”