Alethiology in Volterra (Volturi Kings/OC)

19

A/N: *sneaks in* *places this on your table with a cup of Ceylon tea and ginger biscuits* *runs away before you can say anything and disappears down the driveway with a shrill scream*

Chapter XIX: Closed Door

A harsh, consoling rhythm throughout the night, the evening storm thrummed against the stained glass windows of Altheia's private quarters in the West wing. The Diary of Anais Nin laid cold, abandoned on the rosewood settee next to her bed long ago, and now that the rain inside her had subsided, the skin of face felt thick, cold – her eyes too sensitive.

In this late night and in this dimlit space of the West wing there was nothing else to do but succumb to the promised peace of sleep, and yet Altheia chose to lie there, still mortal and still overly weary, unmoving as she elapsed the night in deep melancholy. She drifted in and out of mindfulness, sparsely listening to the skies of Volterra as it continued its sonorous downpour – this time, without her eyes to join in chorus – and any second now, she hoped that she would start to feel, or at the very least feel alive, again.

Dawn nearing, she registered the arrival of another visitor when the door to her bedroom opened. Weighted footsteps crossed the wooden floor quickly to get to where she was laid, and Marcus' tall silhouette walked into her field of vision, only to see him hesitate before cautiously settling on the space of the floor right next to her bed.

Their faces level now, Altheia's langorous eyes raked through the brunet's appearance under her pale nightlight. Marcus spoke with great caution.

"Aro was here. Do you remember?"

Marcus smelled nice and fresh – no iron particles lingering the air despite his recent hunt. His hair was wet, backswept, his cotton clothes brand new.

"Altheia."

There was genuine concern pulling at his features, and when she finally moved it was to blink and look to the ceiling.

"Are you somewhere I can't reach? Do you hear me at all?" Marcus' hand reached forward and cupped her cheek. "Altheia, please."

His thumb grazed the edge of her eye and Altheia suddenly shifted awake, conscious. "Marcus! When did you— agh!"

As if her throat had been ridden with salt, her voice broke halfway through and Altheia clutched at her throat as she battled through a flurry of heaves and coughs. Marcus winced.

Unlike Aro when he saw her state, Marcus anchored himself and stayed. He softened his voice even further and guided her breathing, silent and lenient until clarity found its way back to her again.

"I'm here... I'm here."

By the time her coughing spell stopped, his frown had settled over and casted a shadow that marred his face.

Lightheaded, Altheia had laid herself back and threw an arm over her face. "Sorry, the storm must've drenched me on my way back last night..."

"Last night?"

"Yes... I went out. To think."

"To drink, you mean. Your smell... you smell." Marcus accused.

"Before you tell me off, I was back before it was too dark. The weather just worsened on my way home."

"Alcohol is poison. You know this. You have to be careful with how much you take."

Altheia pressed her lips together in mild annoyance. "I'll remember that next time."

Marcus sighed. "And your mirroring. You've figured it out, haven't you? How it works."