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Gently enough not to scare, Gwendolyn knocked at the archway where a door was once before, looking into the room where Rosalie sat, staring out of the window at the rest of the Cullen pouring out from the kitchen.
"Come in." She called drily, almost listlessly.
Gwendolyn slowly lifted her wings from the floor, and then carried herself through the room to sit next to Rosalie on the small cot she had made herself.
"So you have chosen." Gwendolyn mimicked her bored tone. They'd learned, the two of them, though separately, that this was a mask that was safe.
Rosalie shrugged. "I'm thinking that if Tomi is the last of the Cullen, I'm glad for it. I was never really a Cullen."
"Why do you speak as if they will all decide to let themselves die?"
"Carlisle has lived a fulfilling life. And Esme.. oh, Esme, she's already dead."
Gwendolyn blinked at the window, and wondered what that might mean. Rosalie didn't let her wait for an answer for too long.
"When she was human, she couldn't have a baby, was abused in all kinds of ways by her husband." She told the story as if it was her own, pain painting her voice only slightly. Gwendolyn was talented at finding that edge, though, and particularly tasted that ichor on her tongue. "When she was turned, found a loving husband, got to have kids, or at least take care of them like her own.. this was heaven for her. This was her afterlife. She's just a ghost, wandering, living in a dream."
"And Alice?"
Rosalie scoffed. "I think Alice'd make death her bitch. But if she lives.. she lives without her mate, who believes she is not enough for him, and if she got her lines.. fixed, well, would she lose him all over again? I don't think she could handle it."
