(no subject)

[themidnightson]

Edward's been absent the last few weeks.

No one on either side of the door should be that surprised -- as the bestest, sweetest, temptingest, not to mention most stubborn and obliviously noble, snack cake in the whole wide world was chained to a hospital bed in Forks Hospital which made the stalking and counting of breaths, er, we mean the care and and watching over of Isabella Swan as she recuperated from the events in Phoenix his high priority.

Today she was released to her father's keeping. For first time in weeks, Edward hadn't ignored the door with immortal (im)patience, which brought him to the supposed End of Time and Space. Where he's currently looking over a stack of notes and books the Bar delivered with his bottle of mineral water.

The top ones look like floor plans and some others like blank music paper, some not. And the ones falling through the air to the floor are long lists.

Comments

[electro_kinetic]

There's no good way to express the curiosity at that statement, though about a dozen different attempts flicker through her mind--all of them remain un-vocalized.

She only pushes a piece of her hair out of her face and remains halfway studying him. "What's your name?" Simple question, and an effective topic change.

[themidnightson]

They go by his own thoughts, rather everyone else's thoughts in the whole room, except he is doing her the favor of being polite.

"Edward. Yours?"

[electro_kinetic]

"Noriko. You from the States?"

[themidnightson]

"Yes. Washington."


He is woefully unhelpful beyond that.

[electro_kinetic]

She actually smiles; he's a bit more helpful than some people she's met, actually giving a state. "Cool. I'm from...Tokyo. Was from Tokyo." Something along that line, anyway.

[themidnightson]

He's not overwhelmingly good at social. Ever.

He still manages, "And now?"

[electro_kinetic]

"New York City. Big place," she says. She's gotten lost more times than she can count.

She doesn't say anything about him being quiet, but it's sort of nice to talk to someone who is.

[themidnightson]

"I've always found it better a place to visit."

[electro_kinetic]

"I don't know. It's a good place to disappear." Which was and is what she wanted when she left Tokyo. "Even just for a little while." And then she remembers the thing about there being different worlds coming to this place.

"At least, the one I'm in...it is."

[themidnightson]

"When is it?"

[electro_kinetic]

"2010. I think."

She hasn't exactly had a great reason to keep up with the date.

[themidnightson]

The lack of knowing is more interesting than otherwise.

"It very well could be different worlds, as it is times."

[electro_kinetic]

"Maybe..." she says. "Seems like everyone's from another one..." Except the one guy. The ice guy. He'd been from hers, or so he thought.

Re:

[themidnightson]

"Just slightly out of phase with everyone else's."

[electro_kinetic]

That sort of makes her smile crookedly. "Just slightly?"

[themidnightson]

The comment was far more related to his world's scientific theory, but he gave a shrug. A move so generic that still turned out endlessly graceful.

"Perhaps."

[electro_kinetic]

"How do you do that?" she asked. Her movements had never been that casually graceful, even when she was trying.

[themidnightson]

Edward tilted his head, raised one eyebrow. "Do what?"

[electro_kinetic]

"With your hands. It's...graceful." This is extraordinary only because she knows incredibly few--make that no--teenage-looking boys who are. "I don't know any boys that are."

This is perhaps not helped by her not knowing many boys at all.

[themidnightson]

With every part of him. A side effect of being a vampire, of existing outside of the realm of humanity. In him at a level he can no more control than the very being of what all he is.

"I wasn't doing anything specifically."

[electro_kinetic]

"I know," she says. "It was just...strange."

[themidnightson]

Edward didn't seem too worried about it on the whole. It wasn't something he could change and most people eventually let the odd things go, unless they saw too much.

And how was that.