marie cullen had come a long way since becoming a vampire in 1801. a hundred years spent with the volturi in italy, a whirlwind romance that ended fatally in paris, a decade of partying and opulence in 1920's new york.
though, by 2005, marie had ret...
The layer of dust covering everything was thick, having far too long to build up. All of the furniture was the same as it had been when Marie had last walked out the door, much to her own surprise. Nothing stolen, nothing misplaced. Each piece was nearly priceless, and more likely than not one of a kind these days. The curtains crumbled to dust the second Marie laid her hands on them, and she stepped back to watch the hundred year old fabric break down. A flash of Augustine throwing the curtains open each morning passed her mind, but she pushed it away. The clouds were low and thick over Paris, but the view remained the same as it had been.
Turning her back to the window, Marie forced herself to look at her once favorite home, just as it had been in her memories. Augustine was everywhere she looked, and though sad, Marie felt a sense of calm wash over her. As if Jasper was using his powers, though he was nowhere near. Her old easel still sat folded up, leaning in a corner of the room with a couple canvases not far. She moved at human speeds as she set everything up, savoring each moment. Only after she had set up the easel and canvas did she realize her old paints would be dust now.
With a small sigh, she moved back towards the front door, finding each step harder to make than the last. Where coming in had been hard, leaving felt nearly impossible. But the thought of returning, sitting on her favorite stool and using her favorite brushes once more, it was enough to encourage her.
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"Happy fifth anniversary, my love." Marie had been waiting all night for Augustine to wake up so she could say those words.
"Good morning." Augustine rolled towards Marie, yawning before finally opening her eyes. "I can't believe it's been five years already. Feels like no time at all has passed." Marie couldn't help but chuckle at that.
"To me, yes. But you? That's...what, a fifth of your entire life?" Augustine rolled her eyes. "Seems like a good bit to me."
"You're always so caught up in that. The numbers." Augustine sighed. "Just because I haven't been alive for as many centuries as you have, doesn't mean we don't experience time the same way."
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Music played softly from the newly repaired record player, the vinyl itself just as fragile as the player. Marie's brush moved across the canvas lightly but quickly, each detail coming out perfectly. Her hand froze when she heard her old cellphone begin to ring. She kept it charged and around, just in case, though it hadn't rung since the first few weeks after she left Forks. When she looked, the name on the screen compelled her to pick it up.
"Alice." Marie answered, bracing herself for whatever multitude of reasons she could be calling.
"Sorry to interrupt your plans of staying in Paris and doing art for the next twenty years, but we need your help at home." It sounded like there was a party in the background, voices and music buzzed though muffled. "I know Carlisle's kept you up to date, but there's something new happening. Victoria is raising an army of newborns to come after us, and specifically after Bella."
"What?" Marie spoke after a pause. "Did you say an army of newborns? Where?"
"Seattle area, but not for long." Alice answered. "We've got some extra help from that werewolf pack on the reservation, but we could really use you, too."
"How did that happen? I thought all their elders were terrified of us." Marie's question illicited a sigh from Alice.
"Remember Ephraim Black's grandson? The one who told Bella about the tribes old stories?" Marie hummed in response. "Him. He's in love with Bella and he became a werewolf a while back. Normally he and Edward wouldn't be getting along, but if it's to save Bella's life I think he'd do anything." Marie could hear Esme's voice in the back, but Alice seemed to wave her off. "Look, werewolves aside, we need you. Can you come back? Please?" Marie bit down on her lip, staring out at Paris through the keyhole window. "Marie?"
"Yeah." Marie nodded, turning away from the window. "I'm on my way."
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