"RUSSIAN ROULETTE IS NOT THE SAME
WITHOUT A GUN,
AND, BABY, WHEN IT'S LOVE,
IF IT'S NOT ROUGH IT ISN'T FUN"
A reckless pirate and three kings find each other at a battlefield.
[breaking dawn]
[bxb]
[poly]
...
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When he finally reached the 'Cullen' house, it was almost completely void of the family. Lawrence walked through the front door as if he were the owner, the way he did most things, and walked with purpose until he reached a mirror. Reaching his destination, the pirate halted. Lawrence turned to the glass reflection but didn't look. He stood and he gazed at where he had placed his hand.
Captain Oliver traced each digit with his eyes as he prepared himself to do something he had not done in so long. Taking an unnecessary (yet comforting) breath in, he glanced up at himself.
Pale features framed his startling, bright red irises. The face before him was fuller than that of his human one that somehow still seemed more familiar to him, even after all this time. His hair, even his hands were different! Instead of the rough, padded tips that topped off the bony hands he had cradled each lover with, they were soft and gentle.
How strange for a killer - at least he had fit the role's description before.
Squinting, Lawrence forced his thoughts of humanity to the back of his mind, pushing his perfect fingertips against the glass. The mirror thudded against the wall and he softened his touch. Glaring into the reflection of his own scarlet eyes, the pirate focused. Eat some food - the human stuff. He commanded himself.
Lawrence's pupils dilated, but only for a moment before they returned to their usual size. A strange feeling washed over the killer as he removed his fingers from the glass. Luckily, the pressure had left no cracks or marks other than five faint finger prints that faded more each second. Sure, he was a real pirate and Esme was just a housewife, but 'hell hath no fury like a woman scorned', and Lawrence was old enough to have learnt that lesson by himself.
He turned and quickly made his way to the kitchen, and began to rummage through the different drawers when he was stopped by a small voice.
"What are you doing?"
Lawrence looked up slowly and saw the little pianist from earlier - the hybrid child. The little girl looked up at him as if he were an alien, or some other kind of strange creature that defied natural laws. This, of course, was bullshit since they were both supernatural.
"Trying to find some good food."
She furrowed her brows and scrunched up her nose in confusion at why a vampire would eat food. After contemplating for a moment, whilst Lawrence had turned back to his kitchen hunting, her face smoothened out again and was taken over by a bright smile. "Are you like me?" She whispered, though it seemed more like a shouting plead not to be alone.
The pirate glanced up quickly, shooting down her theory with a sharp "No." The girl frowned again. Even as a soulless monster, a child's disappointment was suffocating, so Lawrence tapped the marble counter, impatiently, trying to get her attention. "Do you want something? Food wise? I'll get it for you if you tell me where your Grandma keeps the good stuff."
Luckily, she acted much like any other child - in love with food, and easily persuadable. The hybrid pointed to the fridge and then to a pantry cupboard, both of which Lawrence's vampire senses had skipped over. He mumbled a quick "Thanks," before rummaging through them as well.
"What do you want?" For a second, the sailor debated just chucking an apple at her face, but decided to try introduction instead. "My name's Lawrence, by the way."
The girl nodded, smiling with joy at a new friend. "I'm Renesmee. Could you do me some milk please. And some apples, the way Grandma does them." Renesmee smiled sweetly and Lawrence almost applauded himself for guessing about the apple, completely ignoring that his plan was to lob it at her.
"How does Grandma do them?"
"Rings."
"Do you put them on your finger and act like a princess? My sister always used to do that." False. Lawrence was an only child, so his 'sister' could never have done that, but he'd rather lie about it than tell a strange, little girl his life story.
Renesmee giggled and shook her head.
"My other sister used to dance around and pretend to be married to some fancy aristocrat."
The hybrid pushed her lips together to keep her laughter from slipping out, instead she made a strange snorting sound. Renesmee clamped her small hands over her lips with wide eyes, and Lawrence stopped, halfway through chopping an apple. She glanced at him to see him grinning, making her relax immediately as he thought of calming her down. Lawrence finished cutting the apple, putting it on a plate and sliding it over.
"Thank you." Renesmee hadn't stopped giggling from earlier, but she managed to get the words out. Lawrence put on a fake smile and nodded, still a stranger to niceties.
Lawrence picked up a pear — the next best thing if you were out of alcohol — and began to eat it, despite Renesmee's claim that they were 'gross' and that apples were 'way better'.
Naturally, he defended his chosen fruit with a bitchface. Why do kids think they know everything?
