(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

[mandercommander.livejournal.com]

"...I'm not quite sure yet." Pause. "The planners haven't told me."

[themidnightson]

Edward nodded. "The risks?"

[mandercommander.livejournal.com]

"Oh, the usual..." Sigh. "Getting killed, possibly getting tortured first...and there's always getting badly injured. Not that getting killed would necessarily mean anything once I get back here and try to head home."

[themidnightson]

"The normal."

[mandercommander.livejournal.com]

"Right."

Pause.

"Though I can't believe we just said that."