empathy

THIRTY

"What happened to your father?" Edward asks straight away the moment Anastasia comes down from upstairs, the steady heartbeat of Antonina faint in the vampires' ears. 

They watch her eyes seemingly glaze over for a moment as she stares ahead before she snaps out of it. Narrowing her eyes at him, Anastasia's lips curl into a lopsided smirk, her head tilting in the same direction. 

"I think I'm gonna go now," she brushes his question aside flatly, not bothering to send them another look while grabbing her jacket Jasper has put on the couch earlier. He himself alongside Aurelia hasn't come back yet and quite frankly, Anastasia doesn't care enough to wait for him.

At least not right this second. 

And either way, walking is great, especially through the woods. It has something peaceful at it, the way the moon shimmers through the trees and leaves, creating a quiet yet mysterious atmosphere. And honestly, knowing about vampires has made this much less scary than before.

Anastasia has never been one to feel fear in the woods or at night, especially when she was with Antonina. She's simply never had the space for fright. Neither did she have time for it. 

And the knowledge about vampires as such is a scary thing, but the knowledge about vampires in such a small town with close to no crimes is a comforting thought. Surely, there'd be more dead bodies dropping if there were more vampires than the Cullens around. 

Or maybe she's simply not afraid because the act of dying isn't uncomfortable for her. Anastasia would never actively provoke it, of course, unless you call walking alone at night provoking, but she truly doesn't believe she'd walk away if someone were to point a gun at her head.

She has just never befriended the concept of life enough to see death as the big bad villain. They're more like equals, two different domains like day and night. One is associated with light, peace, safety and friendliness and one with darkness, war and everything evil. 

Not really feeling like going home, Anastasia sits down against one of the trees, her head hung back enough to give her a clear sight at the partly visible sky above her. It's a surprisingly clear night and yet the sky is encased by a dark fog of grey, hiding the stars from prying eyes and shadowing the towns in its light. 

Though it's not like she cares much about that, the fascination with the sky, may it be at night or during the day, has never been something she could get behind. She didn't have the patience to find patterns and figures in clouds or to look at the sky and search for constellations.  

"How are you doing, darlin'?" Jasper appears after a few minutes, sitting down next to her with his legs drawn up and his arms hugging his knees. "Your brother's a rude ass bitch," Anastasia retorts, not overly surprised to see him there but not overly bothered by his presence either.

"How are you doing?" he simply repeats his question, ignoring her statement for now. He neither agrees nor disagrees with her, Edward can be straight away and appear rude. Most of it is founded in his obliviousness and impatience. "Antonina seems fine," Anastasia deflects. 

"Thank you." 

Jasper smiles a bit at that, hearing both the hesitation and stumbling in her words. It's no phrase coming easy for her and he'd bet it's no phrase she has used often over the last years. Or ever, that is. "Of course."

"You're cold," he observes, Anastasia glancing down at her hands before shrugging. "I'll warm up soon enough." Sighing, he slips off his jacket and hands it to her, his lips curling upwards when he sees her roll her eyes but take it nonetheless. 

"Why don't you ask me about my father?" Anastasia raises a brow at him, curious. Though, her mind is more focused on the jacket functioning as a blanket. It smells like leather, woods and old books. 

"It's none of my business. Not until you decide to tell me on your own," he replies, doesn't mean he doesn't want to know. 

"I don't know if he's dead. I think he is, I hope he is, but I don't know," she looks over at him, not really able to make out more than his silhouette. She didn't realise it has gotten this late already. 

The two of them keep silent for a while, Anastasia growing more tired by the second. This day has been longer and more exhausting than she imagined it to be. 

"Shall we get you home?" Jasper offers, unsurprised when she shakes her head no. Scooting over to lean against the tree as well, they once again get wrapped in a comfortable blanket of silence.  

"You know, you got the patience of a tiger," Anastasia eventually speaks up again. "I would have freaked by now if our roles were reversed," she adds. "A tiger?" he parrots, his brow raised half-amused, half astonished. "They can stalk their prey up to half an hour," she shrugs. 

"You're no prey, darlin'," his voice is smooth. "Never said I was. But you're a hunter," Anastasia points out. "I don't think I could do it. Both, this whole situation involving me and hunting animals. Aren't they like super shy and cautious?" she raises a brow. 

"They are but we're fast," Jasper counters. "Still, I would lose my patience the moment I had to wait for longer than a minute."

Shaking his head, he refrains from commenting again, instead, focusing his attention back ahead of them, his senses trained on their surroundings just in case and his gift solely on her. Despite others, her emotions, no matter how wild and intense or weak, are surprisingly calming to him. They are neither pushy nor intruding, more like the warm rabbit hole or cage inviting him in to rest and relax. 

Turning his head to look at her when her head falls against his shoulder, her eyes finally falling shut, he stays seated for another moment before carefully picking her up to take her home. 

"Good night, my love."