𝐥𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬 | carlisle cullen (3)

(𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞) the human behind the desk

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ESTE AND CAIUS CONTINUED TO WORK UNTIL her mind physically felt as though it was unable. She tried her best to keep focus despite the almost stabbing sensation that seemed to warp her senses. It stung in an almost poisonous way and even when Este winced, Caius would attempt to persist.

Yet he was kinder than Este might've believed he would be. The more hours they spend stood in his office, the more her fear for him seemed to dissipate. They were by no means comfortable and Este was also no further forward in trusting him yet she certainly could tell that he was trying to help her. He always seemed at least mildly concerned whenever Este would mutter words of complaint or jump away from his hands completely and he'd always be willing for Este to take time to herself, to bring herself around before they dared to try it all over again.

Este could not see nor understand any of the progress that Caius was making. She would stand with her eyes closed trying to follow his footsteps as he walked around her mind, her emotions. Yet somehow she always got lost, following a pathway that didn't exist or getting trapped in twirls of nerves until she completely forgot the feeling of him humming his way through her head.

She couldn't say that she was feeling any better. Over the few days she'd spent in Volterra, Este's mind had been calmer than before. Yet she was swirling with blood and away from any of the impending dangers regarding Bella and the wolves. Este didn't credit the way she felt towards the Volturi nor to Caius, not yet at least. She believed it made sense that she'd feel better yet this didn't mean her mind was stable.

Este could still feel them somewhere embedded in her mind. Although she couldn't hear what the whispers were saying, she knew they were plotting against her. She wondered how they would have her meet her end. Este thought about endings a lot which was strange considering for many centuries of her life she had only dreamt of a beginning, believing endings were an impossibility. That was an ironic thought now that she had everything she could ever have dreamt of.

She did like to believe that Caius was doing something. After all her mind would stretch and ache in pain whenever he took his hands away. He'd ask her a dozen questions, none of them seemed very important. Apparently it was to test that she still had the main parameters of her mind in check. Caius tested her memory and the reflexes of her brain. He'd test emotionally capability and sometimes Este wondered whether his questions mattered at all or whether they delved from curiosity, it was hard to tell.

The times she did not spend with Caius, she often found herself back in his study. Este would examine the intricate workings of the pocket watch as she sat alone in her dungeon-like room. She'd watch the hands turn slowly until she was aware what colour the sky was and where the sun sat in parallel to the earth. Este also made note of what time it was in Washington although she figured out days ago that the stars would never align.

Nonetheless, whenever she was aware that the summer sun had stopped sending its burning light over the sides of stone crafted buildings, Este would climb the trailing stairs up the tower and sit on the velvet sofa positioned under the large windowsill. There she'd rest her arms, balancing her chin where her limbs met as she watched the sky.

The stars weren't the same as the ones she knew from Washington. Este knew the sky was the same yet without the same hazed navy colours and twirling tree branches cutting shadows into the air it seemed unfamiliar. Italy had a different perspective of the night which was a lot more open. While Este was used to the sight of trees, Italy swam with buildings. Or at least, Volterra did.

Este would sit there for the entire night. She'd hope to see a shooting star so that she could throw a wish into the air. Unfortunately nothing of the sort ever decided to caress the sky. Este was lazy in her movements, never changing the angle of her back as she held Carlisle's sweater around her. She'd make up stories for every constellation and at the end of each one, she'd always find Carlisle again.