Renewal [Emmett Cullen] (1)

[25- New World]

Everything was so clear. Sharp. Defined.

The brilliant light overhead was still blinding-bright, and yet I could plainly see the glowing strands of the filaments inside the bulb. I could see each color of the rainbow in the white light, and, at the very edge of the spectrum, an eighth color I had no name for.

Behind the light, I could distinguish the individual grains in the dark wood ceiling above. In front of it, I could see the dust motes in the air, the sides the light touched, and the dark sides, distinct and separate. They spun like little planets, moving around each other in a celestial dance. The dust was so beautiful that I inhaled in shock; the air whistled down my throat, swirling the motes into a vortex. The action felt wrong. I considered, and realized the problem was that there was no relief or strong necessity tied to the action. I didn't need the air. My lungs weren't waiting for it. They reacted indifferently to the influx. I did not need the air, but I liked it. In it, I could taste the room around me—taste the lovely dust motes, the mix of the stagnant air mingling with the flow of slightly cooler air from the open door. Taste a lush whiff of silk.

I didn't realize someone was holding my hand until whoever it was squeezed it lightly. Like it had before to hide the pain, my body locked down again in surprise. This was not a touch I expected. The skin was perfectly smooth, but it was the wrong temperature. Not cold. I looked up, still lying down on the bed. It was Carlisle.

"Eleanor, I know this is disorienting. Can you try standing up?," he spoke smoothly. Curious as to what he meant, I tried to get up. My legs! I was no longer paralyzed! The venom must have repaired my spinal cord. It was surreal, I had imagined a day where I could walk since my accident.

"It appears as though your lumber nerves have completely recovered," Carlisle said with a smile. My weight shifted from one leg to another as if I had never been stuck in a wheelchair. Every step felt natural, automatic. I never though I would be able to do this again.

My new mind quickly scanned the unfamiliar room, cataloguing it's features. Everything was altered into strangeness by my new, acute vampire senses. With the same color scheme and dark wood, it must have been Carlisle's office. It was on the third floor so I had never seen it. Esme and Edward were standing by Carlisle's side, Edward probably as a mental interpreter, helping to understand what I was going through. Jasper was standing by the door. Alice was peeking around Jasper's elbow with a huge grin on her face; the light sparkled off her teeth, another eight-color rainbow.

"I feel overwhelmed. There's so much. . . ." I trailed off, listening to the bell-tone of my voice.

"You are quite controlled," Carlisle mused. "More so than I expected, you didn't even with the time you had to prepare yourself mentally for this."

As I listened to Carlisle, I felt an increasing dry ache, and the more I thought about it, the more it hurt. My hand flew up to cup my throat, like I could smother the flames from the outside. The thirst. It occupied a large part of my mind but wasn't dominating my thoughts. There was so much room in my head. A separate part of my brain, one that almost felt like it was increasing with time, was keeping tabs on the burn in my throat, almost like a reflex. The way my old brain had handled breathing and blinking.

"I'll take her hunting," Emmett said, stepping forward. For the first time, with the dimming shadows and limiting weakness of humanity taken off my eyes, I saw his face. I gasped and then struggled with my vocabulary, unable to find the right words. I needed better words. He was breath taking, I might as well have been blind in my human life. Everything from the sharpness of his jaw line to the perfect arch of eyebrow. He didn't seem quite as tall, now that I was only several inches shorter, compared when I was in the wheelchair and felt like a toddler next him. I literally had a whole new perspective.

I watched the grace of his advance, absorbing it with my new eyes. He reached out and I took his hand. Instead of moulding to his like playdough, my hand yielded to the pressure of his and his to mine. In our past interactions, it had always been a one-way interaction. In fact, I knew he had to be extremely careful not to press too much or my yielding flesh would bruise. It was almost like I had to be handled like fine china. Now, I had the potential to hurt him.

"Alright, let's go."