I must admit, I was never a big Twilight Fan, and certainly not on Team Edward or Team Jacob, in fact I was all about team Charlie – that poor man and all the stress and grey hairs Bella gave him! For some reason or another, I watched the movies and found that I am in fact wholeheartedly Team Carisle! Now, bear with me here, this is my very first Twilight fanfiction and only my second fanfiction ever. Anyways, I have been searching for some good Carisle/OC fanfiction and was inspired to write my own. Here goes nothing.
A few other editorial notes, other than Esme not existing in this universe, everything else is canonical (though I am using the movies rather than the books as reference)
A petite figure stood on wet pavement of a long, winding driveway. The figure's head was obscured by the thin hood of her sweatshirt. Her hands were on her hips, eyebrows raised, giving off a thoroughly unimpressed air about the whole situation. Aurora Francise clicked her tongue as big, round raindrops fell onto her already damp hood. For someone who was always complaining of cold toes and fingers, the place Aurora had chosen seemed to be rather dreary. Her emerald green eyes scanned what was now her new home as she felt rain drench the ends of her sandy blonde hair.
The red brick bungalow that was at the end of the driveway she stood on, was nestled at the edge of a rather intimidating swath of forest. The house itself though looked quite inviting, Aurora thought. The windowpanes and the massive oak door at the front were painted a rich chocolate color that complemented the bark of the massive cedar trees that dotted the home's property line.
Aurora clicked her tongue again, shrugging her shoulders. The 25-year old woman exhaled slowly, seeing her breath coming out in a small misty cloud. She eyed the lush colors of the forest behind her, already seeing in her mind's eye all the photos she might glean from her new abode. Everything would have been almost perfect, save for her drenched socks and soaking wet head. She made her way up the driveway, making a mental note to research what flowers would grow in this drizzle as she observed a rather unkempt front garden space.
"Mum would be out here with her shovel and wheelbarrow," the woman whispered wryly to herself as she passed by the front of the house. Aurora's mother was the family green thumb and the family garden critic.
She turned back and looked at her car that was parked down the driveway. Her sleek black BMW looked rather out of place on the driveway. She chuckled to herself, thinking a beat-up rusted red truck would complete the ensemble.
Turning back, she fished a set of keys out of her jeans pocket, which she noticed were also almost soaked to her underwear. Holding her breath, she thrust the keys inside the old lock and turned the key. The door gave way to Aurora's new home and new life.
Aurora Francise who always believed in risks, adventure and was a firm disciple of Madame de Stael's quote that, "One must choose in life between boredom and pain," up until the day she left Europe, she thought it would be the words she would live and die by. An award-winning photographer who had used her family trips across the globe to capture stunning images of nature and people, she seemed destined for greatness and a life filled with elegance, celebrity, adoration, and envy from those whom she photographed, and those who bought her photographs. And for a time, it was.
Aurora's thirst for photography hadn't been known to her until her second year in university. She was obsessed with becoming the next Charles Bukowski. Never did she imagine photography would become her true calling. But after countless family trips, she realized there was something about taking photos. There was something about the click of the shutter, the feel of the lens, the way a photo made you stop, look at it, think, ask questions, then come back to it again, that she could not pass up. Each photo she took seemed to bring her a small form of ecstasy that no other thing or person could. It was easy enough for the young woman to get her photographs noticed. A simple phone call to an old professor and her admiration of Aurora's talent was all that it took. After all as her professor shrieked when she the photos Aurora took of the Vietnamese red-light district, "You can't teach this technique, you are born with this Aurora, you are born with this!"
Aurora went on to study her master's in New York and began countless internships at some of the most coveted photography agencies in the world. By the time she was 24, her name was published in major magazines and publications across the world. She was the up-and-coming star. Industry insiders whispered of how she was at ease photographing picky diva celebrities just as she was crouching down in mud and dirt, having fire ants crawl up her legs to get a perfect shot of a pack of wild horses in the middle of a field. The girl seemed to simply be born under a lucky star – even her name Aurora came from the Roman Goddess of sunrise. She especially felt it was true when she landed her dream job in Paris, France. Who didn't dream of having a flat that overlooked the city of love and goes to work every day and photograph the most beautiful people and things on this green earth? It was a dream and she was living it, breathing it. Until she wasn't. Until that one fateful afternoon.
She stood in the darkened and silent hallway for some time, trying to process how exactly it was that she got here. How it was that she was now living in a town aptly named after a utensil. A town of 3,500 people.
Chills erupted as flashes of memory danced around her head. They weren't even memories, only slivers of light reflecting something, someone. The dark iris of his eye. The maniacal laughter that seemed to drill into her eardrums. The way her editor's face fell when Aurora told her she was willing to take an assignment across the ocean – reputation or glamour be damned.
Aurora closed her eyes, trying to steady her uneven breathing. Even though her teeth were practically chattering in her skull from feeling so cold and damp, there was something about the stillness of the air, the smell of damp earth and leaves and bark that seemed to calm her. She unclenched her fists and let out another breath. A strange calmness washed over her as her eyes scanned the bare house. Suddenly she smiled widely, despite herself. It didn't look like home, but it felt like home.
After having figured out the thermostat, Aurora blasted it to the maximum level. She needed to thaw first, dry second, then she would think about venturing to her car and bring the essentials she had packed. She now realized that she should have scheduled the moving van to have been here earlier, but at this point, there was nothing she could do, other than to wait.
"Maybe I'll go to the General Store for supplies," she mused to herself, trying to imitate a southern accent.
Taking her time, she roamed the house, exploring its very nook and cranny. A smirk played on her lips as she realized the house itself was quite roomy. The long hallway ran the length of the house, with cherrywood floors that added to the elegance of the home. On either side of the hallway were two large rooms, one with a grand looking fireplace, the other had a rather antique and dusty chandelier. She guessed, one of the rooms was meant to be a formal dining room. The kitchen had two huge windows that overlooked the backyard, though the word backyard was generous, as there was nothing but forest. Elegant quartz countertops and dark kitchen cabinets with a rather large oven and gas stove gave off the feeling that a personally hired chef was missing.
Trotting down a few steps, Aurora landed in what she deemed would be a good den. Off to the side was a smaller room, painted peacock blue. Aurora admitted she loved the color of the walls, though she generally preferred warmer colors.
"My little blue office," she mused, spinning around slowly.
The one and only bedroom was her favorite room in the whole house. It had a huge window on the side, with a regal cedar framing the window. The bedroom was small, but cozy and had an exquisitely large bathroom with a massive tub and plenty of space.
"Perfect for all my candles," she crooned as her fingers swept over the cold granite countertops.
After she had somewhat warmed up, she dove back into the rain and got her suitcase from her car. She was thankful she had at least packed a sleeping bag, warm pajamas, and of course her cameras. Lugging her suitcase, back into the house, she stopped suddenly at the threshold of the door. An eerie feeling washed over her, almost making her trip over her own feet. She whipped her head around and looked in the direction of the thick brush of trees to the side of the house. Her stomach knotted painfully.
"Hello?" she said hoarsely.
She felt dumb for even having spoken, but something in the pit of her belly told her she wasn't alone. She cleared her throat.
"Hello?" she called more forcefully.
Only the sound of falling rain on trees and pavement answered her. Aurora shook her head, cringing.
"It's a forest, of course, there's things in there dummy," she admonished herself before going back inside.
Yards away, in the dense brush of the forest, another petite woman with a pixie haircut stood motionless. Her eyes were otherworldly, as was her skin, white as marble. The pixie haircut was the only thing that made her seem approachable. Her nostrils flared.
"Jasmine and sandalwood," she whispered, sniffing the air before backing back into the dark, rainy forest.