(no subject)

[themidnightson]

The house was full of the Lullaby encore requested by Esme when the sound of Carlisle's Mercedes could be heard coming down the road outside the house. Even with his mind impeded comfortably by the last 'voice' missing from the house, Edward's fingers continued to move through the upper scale of the piece without tremor or hesitation.

He was brooding on Peter and Charlotte's arrival. But mostly he was trying not to focus on the melancholy ache at the ending of the piece coming too soon, and it's all too obvious parallels.

Comments

[themidnightson]

Edward's hands continued to play.

How had he gone so long with playing? How could it have stopped being this comforting even briefly?



"It's better than the alternative."

Even if the scent of her was still compelling to all the darkest parts of him, he inwardly cringed at the possiblity of her death (murder) even tangental to the conversation.

[ofthefamily]

"Alright."

Have I really doomed you to this --

Carlisle throws a smile on his face. "Though I do hope you stop moping eventually. We might get weary of it otherwise."

[themidnightson]

Edward didn't frown, even though he longed to.

He didn't have a right to answer all their thoughts all the time. They deserved their privacy, and their own reactions being theirs, even if he could not give them the silence of not hearing.




Lips curving to a dry smile, Edward said, "If you don't like my playing, you could just send me to my room."

[ofthefamily]

Carlisle harrumphs.

"It's better than the music the nurses play at the hospital. It's inevitably catchy, but nigh on incomprehensible."

Something about 'bootylicious' that Carlisle is happy he does not understand.

[themidnightson]

One could not always educate taste into humans.

"What a high compliment," Edward said, with a laugh, as the musical selection they were playing came to a close.