nightfall ⋆｡ ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆ a twilight story

Theories

The afternoon shifted quietly into the evening and the pale little sun slowly sank behind the dark trees, pulling the sky into a deep, velvety blue. The rain continued to fall as it had on the first night, soft and consistent, tapping gently against the windows in a soothing rhythm.

After changing from my jeans and sweater into a comfy pair of navy plaid shorts and a grey sweatshirt, I curled up on one of the couches in the living room. A soft, fluffy blanket was draped over my legs, and I absently sketched in a small leather-bound notebook. The fireplace crackled away warmly, filling the room with a gentle smoky scent, its glow casting flickers of light across the walls. The warmth felt comforting—grounding—after the whirlwind of the day, giving me a rare moment to relax.

The television hummed quietly in the background, the flickers from the screen sometimes catching my eye for a minute or two. I was the only one downstairs; after Rosalie's bath and Emmett's brief wrestling match with Jasper, they'd headed North to hunt for a little while. Alice and Jasper were curled up in their own little world above me, and Edward and Esme were both on the third floor. I could hear the soft music playing from Edward's CD player and the occasional light thud of a book. Esme must be dusting the shelves.

Despite the calm that surrounded me, my mind kept returning to the day's events—specifically, the memory of that strange, cucumber-scented sandwich and the thought of the beach that had popped into my mind. How had I remembered something so insignificant from my human life when so much of it was a blur? 

The sound of tires crunching over the wet gravel outside drew my attention, and I looked up from my sketchbook just as Carlisle's car pulled into the driveway. I heard him come through the door a moment later, shaking off the rain as he stepped inside. Carlisle would have an answer; he always did.

"Evening," he greeted, his voice warm as he entered the room. His eyes found mine briefly, a soft smile on his lips. He took off his coat, hanging it by the door as he kicked off his shoes, the rain dripping onto the floor.

"Welcome home," I called out softly, putting down my sketchbook.

Carlisle smiled again, "how was your first day, my girl?," he asked softly, looking at me.

"It was okay, the people here are a lot nicer than New Jersey, I think. Or at least they're less...aggressive. Emmett tried to eat a really gross sandwich."

Carlisle chuckled, "leave it to Emmett to provide some entertainment. I'm glad to hear that it was a nicer start," he responded softly before walking away to the kitchen. I heard him quietly shuffling around, eventually pouring out a hot cup of the blood we stored in our cupboards. It was there in case of an emergency, and Carlisle always considered the need for a hot beverage as an emergency. It was never as good as the fresh stuff, but it was routine for him. He was more human than any of us. 

"How was your first day?" I asked after a moment, as he walked back into the living room, watching as he settled into the chair across from me, the mug in his hands. He looked relaxed but slightly weary, like anyone else after a long day of work.

"It went well," Carlisle replied, leaning back into the cushions. "It's always nice to be back in the hospital, but there were a few particularly long surgeries today. Everyone was very warm and welcoming, although I reckon that was due to your mother's cookies." He smiled again, taking another sip from his mug. "And the rain certainly didn't help traffic on the way home."

I chuckled softly, nodding in agreement. "I can imagine."

We sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments, the crackling fire and soft patter of rain filling the room. His focus turned towards the television. Some kind of old movie was playing. I didn't recognise it, though.