Spraining The Preachers Brain

IC Time: August 18
Location: Cullen Residence
Synopsis: Vincent comes to the Cullen house to seek Esme's advice.
Submitted by: Esme

It's a Saturday evening, and the sun is sinking below the horizon, not that it matters for the grey mist that covers the little town of Forks. Esme Cullen is sitting, quietly, in the living room, settled on the large white couch, with the TV turned on, though it's doubtful that any human's could hear the noise. The woman is, awaiting the arrival of a visitor, at any moment.

Vincent pulls up as usual in the passenger seat of a car driven by a sweet old lady. This time, however, he stands at the passenger door talking to her for a few minutes. He must be telling her an approximate time to pick him up or that he will call or something, because as he walks up the driveway, she pulls away and drives off. He may stray a bit, but with the help of his walking cane and a sidewalk, it's rather hard to miss the porch entirely, and eventually he finds a door to knock upon. He takes advantage of any wait to straighten his clothes a little, and pushing his glasses a bit straighter on his face. All the little things that he occasionally forgets because…well…he can't see them.

Esme tilts her head slightly as she hears the sound of the approaching vehicle, the opening and closing of the car door. She listens, still as the preacher man approaches, and before he even makes it to the door she's there. She waits a few minutes after he knocks on the door before she opens the door. "Come in, Father," she gives, holding the door open and stepping to the side so that the man can enter the room. There's been no recent major renovations to the house that should cause the man to stumble or trip, or walk into anything.

Vincent smiles quietly as the door opens, and nods. "Good evening, Esme…" he says, taking her invitation to step forward, his cane tapping the floor ahead of him through the vaguely familiar house. Still, he waits a few steps inside, hesitant that he shouldn't break anything. "I don't want to offend you," he says, distractedly, getting to the point rather abruptly. "But I've had a visit from one of our…cultish friends. I need you to tell me more about these Volturi vampires." No beating about the bush today.

Esme offers the father a smile, though he, obviously, would not see it. "Let's step into the living room, Father, it's far more comfortable in there," she gives, her human facade slipping easily into place. At the question, Esme quirks a brow. "It is, perhaps, better that you not know anything more than you already know, about them or others of their kind," she responds with a slight nod of her head.

Vincent shakes his head. "No," he says, faintly agitated at the answer he had hoped she'd know better than to give him. "No, it's /not/ better that I not know. You don't understand. I'm not just a…a figurehead. I have a responsibility to the members of my church, and…and of this town. And now I'm getting visits from people threatening the safety of those people, and I want to know exactly what I'm dealing with before I go any further. I'm told you and your family don't eat people, from a very reliable source. I hope she wasn't mistaken?" he asks, distractedly. Perhaps it's a faint sleeplessness that has him so uncharacteristically blunt, or perhaps it's just worry. Or perhaps both. Who knows? Either way, he's not in any hurry to sit down, relax, and be placated.

Esme shakes her own head. "No, Father, it's very dangerous for you to even know of our existence. There are rules, regulations. You're knowledge of us means only two things, you must either become one of us, or you must die," she gives in a solemn voice, clearly regretful that it must come down to this. "If you don't know more than you already know, it's possible that you can feign a lack of knowledge and, as such, not be forced to death or to our existance," the woman states simply. "Please, leave it to us to protect this community, together with the wolves we've been doing a good job, we don't want to involve anymore humans than already have been, and your knowledge should not be increased," she states before falling silent, though her speech was said in practically a single breath. "We are… vegetarians, so to speak. We don't eat humans, we live on an animal diet."

Vincent is polite enough to listen to Esme's speech, but gives a weary smile. "It's too late for that, Esme. It's admirable that you take it upon yourself to protect the people of the town, but it's up to God to protect me. Not you or anyone else." He takes a deep breath, and lets it out slowly. "These people want to speak in my church. And they have presented extremely convincing arguments for why they should be allowed to. Of course, I can't allow such a thing, but if something is endangering St. Anne's, I think I have a right to be warned. I have a right to know what to expect from these Volturi vampires if Lenka's group goes through with whatever they've got planned."

Esme shakes her head, faintly. "Father, my family has been protecting this town, since we moved here a few years ago, and when we first moved here, several decades ago. Unfortunately it's become a more supernatural place than it was many years ago," she gives with a frown. "And I don't think you want the Volturi to address your church. That would be very dangerous for your parishoners. They are not as human friendly as my family and I are."

Vincent raises an eyebrow. "You don't understand. The Volturi don't want to address my church," he replies. "Another group of vampires does. A group claiming to drink only donated blood. They claim to want civil rights for vampires. I was discussing it with Helena and we were reminded of the Black Panthers. They want to start going around revealing themselves to humans. I turned them away, but I don't believe they're going to stop with me and my church. She tried to /bribe/ me," he finishes, his lip twitching just faintly, the only sign of his disgust at the very notion that he could be bribed to put his church in that sort of danger. "They seem to think if the whole town knows, the Volturi can't possibly cover it up. I understand what they're trying to do, but this is not the way to accomplish it. Not with stealing and threats and violence…"

A low throated growl can be heard coming from Esme at Vincent's words. "Them. I remember them," she gives in a low, hiss of a voice. "They should /not/ be permitted to speak, you'd be better off letting the Volturi speak. I was at their little meadow meeting," she notes, frowning and shaking her head. Her voice continues to be little more than a low hiss, just audible to human ears. Now she sounds more a hunter, more the vampire she is than the human she's been pretending to be. "The Volturi will take out the entire town if they find out, along with every supernatural creature contained within and nearby."

Vincent nods a little. "That's what I need to know," he says, solemnly. He scrubs at his face, disturbed. "They deserve to be warned," he goes on, only slightly distracted by the change in her tone. It probably says a lot about his level of worry that he isn't more concerned or frightened by that sound. Then again, if she intended to eat him, she's had plenty of opportunity before. And if she decides to do it now, he can't do much about it. So why worry about that? His brow furrows, instead, creased with worry over what might come to pass in the town. "I'm not equipped to handle them. If she shows up again, I can turn her away again, but I'm not a fighter. But if humans are in danger, they deserve a warning. I mean…There's got to be something you can do. Your youngest…your daughter-in-law. Her father is the sherriff, isn't he? Can't he come up with a reason to get people out of here? Scare people into visiting relatives or whatever it takes? A gas leak, maybe…" He's grasping at straws, perhaps. But it shouldn't be too hard to understand why.

Esme digs her hand into the arm of the couch she'd reseated herself on, unfortunately the couch stands no chance against her vampire strength and the arm is sacrificed to her frustrations, as the sound of splintering wood can attest. "There is no way to warn them, Father," she gives, shaking her head. "And Chief Swan does not know of us, to ask him to lie to the community would need an explanation that we could not supply, he is an observant man," Esme points out. "Perhaps, if you had someone there… it is, as my family is living proof of, entirely possible to live comfortably with humans without drawing suspicion to ourselves. I do not see why they cannot do the same."

Vincent looks puzzled at that. "How can his /daughter/ be a vampire without his knowing? It's not like she's a murderer…" In other words. She has nothing to be ashamed of. He twitches with barely pent up energy, fidgetting with his walking cane. He'd probably pace if there wasn't more danger in pacing than in fidgetting. So fidget he does. "There's got to be a way. There's always a way." He stiffens, "You've /got/ to find a way. I'm not leaving them ignorant in the face of that sort of danger. If it comes down to it, I'd rather warn them myself…"

Esme sighs slightly as she drops the crumbled arm of the couch on the floor by the. "He can't know, or he faces the same fate that Bella was forced into, death or vampire. We won't do that," she states in a stern voice that betrays years of knowledge, years more than her looks would allow for. "It is necessary, Father, for them to remain ignorant. We've helped one or two people at a time escape danger, but never a whole town, that is practically impossible," she gives, with an unseen frown.

Vincent lifts his chin, and quietly states. "/Nothing/ is impossible. I don't know if you truly believe, but /I/, at least, believe that God can work great things, if we allow him." He sighs, then, and relaxes just a bit. "I need to pray….A lot. I think it's time for me to go. I've learned what I need to learn. May I use your telephone?"

Esme smiles faintly. "Father, trust me, my husband and I are both devout in our faith and beliefs. Carlisle was a pastor before he was turned, in the 1600's," she notes. "As a youth I went to church and attended all the religious services in my hometown," the woman gives with a slight nod before she picks up the phone and hands it to Vincent. "Of course you may."

Vincent smiles faintly. "That doesn't mean that you trust at this moment. It means that at some point in the 1600's you did went to church and attended all the religious services." He probably wouldn't be so glib if he wasn't so strained by it all. He accepts the phone gratefully, however, his fingers sliding over the keys to orient himself before pressing the numbers. "Thank you, Esme…" he murmurs, while waiting for someone to pick up. After a moment, someone does, and he says simply, "We're done. Can you come now?" There's an affirmative answer, a short goodbye, and then he holds it out for Esme to hang up.

Esme chuckles. "We have faith, Father, both of us. Though my husband is several centuries older than I. I'm only 113, he's over 300," she points out with a faint giggle, she certainly doesn't sound like she's 113, though or does Carlisle sound like he's over 300 years. She falls silent and waits for Vince to finish his conversation before she takes the phone and sets it aside. "I shall show you out," she gives, though she doesn't offer the father her hand, she's sure that he can find his own way out of the house, though she could easily stop him from hurting himself before he had the time to think that he would be hurt. Once she's at the door she holds the door open. "Have a good evening, Father."

Vincent gives a weak smile in response to this revelation. Really, his brain is sprained enough as it is. Does she keep having to add to it? "Ah. Excellent…" he replies weakly. But he nods a little as she leads the way to the door. He partly uses the sound of her footsteps, and partly his cane and memory of what he'd encountered in the past. What with one thing and another he does successfully reach the front door. "God be with you, Esme," he says, and ends with a quiet, worried sigh. "God be with all of us." And he slips out the door, the tapping of his cane trailing away as walks away from the house and toward the driveway where the idling car is already waiting.

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