Falling To The Sun | B. Swan + E. Cullen

epilogue

Everyone had their own rituals. Whether it be a way of life or a little quirk, they all had their little rituals that helped them pass on through the days. 

His mamma liked to go on an early morning bike rides, liked to spend an hour on the move no matter where they were on the state of the art bike his father had bought her. It was something that she liked to do as a human that had started simply because she didn't have her own car. 

Aunty Alice moved the flowers in their home around constantly, never seemingly happy with where she had last placed them or with the way they looked, but that was fine, it was harmless and rather endearing if the soft, tender expression of Uncle Jasper's eyes said anything to him. It said a lot, really, and it was quite sweet to see the love that his family held for one another. 

Everyone had their own traditions, rituals, whether it be Ressie's habit of buying books that she never read to fill her room that his mother stole to read at the earliest hour of the morning as she waited for mamma's return for her relaxing rides or the annoying way that his father mindlessly played piano late at night when his children were sleeping, unable to help himself as he finds himself seated at the keys. 

Just as it was part of the ritual for Jacob to complain from wherever he was in the house and for Seth to snap back that his alpha was the one disturbing them in that situation. 

It was the little things that Romulus expected to happen, that he was used to happening. Rituals and traditions and habits.

He had his own things that he liked to do, naturally, the things that he needed to be done. 

It was perhaps why he was so far behind the rest of his family as they arrived in Forks, returning two decades after they last left to the same house of his birth. He had to drive toward wherever they were going, had to be in the car to see the world as it passed him by. 

The simple fact was that he hated planes, hated the quick flight and departures, hated the way they cut the journey short, made you arrive too quickly without a challenge. 

His mamma often blamed herself for that, claimed that it was her fault that he wanted to experience the adventure, to draw things out against time because of the trip she had taken him on to the amazon at only three months old. He promised that wasn't the case, but Roman Elders-Cullen was a stubborn woman that knew him better than anyone else, barring perhaps his father, and there was nothing that he could hide from her motherly eye.

His car was thrummed beneath him, the engine sounding much the same that it always did, and he shifted in the seat, stretching out his legs the best that he could.

Romulus was later than usual, having taken a detour through past along closer to the coast than necessary. He couldn't see it the whole way, but if he kept his window open he could hear it faintly in the distance, could smell the salt on the window if it was strong enough. It was enough to justify the state of worry that his mom was likely to greet him with, her worried heart never soothed no matter his mamma's and Aunty Alice's reassurances to his safety. 

The rain had come when he was on his way home, nearly there the long, deserted road when the smoke from the engine started. 

He stopped with a small to the breaks on the shoulder of the road, slamming a hand against the steering wheel. With a quick glance to the rearview mirror, he was out of his seat and lifting the hood with barely a thought, the action coming as natural as the speed. 

More smoke billowed up into his face, puffing out at him in an acrid cloud. The smell stung at his eyes and he recoiled despite himself, taking a step back away from the harsh, terrible scent.