[ forks washington is kind of miserable. cora doesn't like it, not really. but there are werewolves here, ones who shift into actual wolves, and derek thinks they could learn a thing or several from them. the shape they take on is much larger than she remembers her mother being; almost like big bears, they seem to take up so much space that there's little room left around them. even when he's not in wolf form, jacob still takes up a lot of room; he's begun to occupy a space in her head, where he sits and makes fun of her, trying to make her laugh. her face hasn't been permanently frozen into a scowl, no matter how many times she tries to demonstrate that it has been. ]
[ they sit in her room; it's a little try-hard girly. at a garage sale, on one of the very rare days of sunshine and warmth, derek had bought her some fairy lights she couldn't quite let herself let go of. stuck to the wall above the headrest, they line her bed with brighter light than the dull lightbulb above them. it's raining hard outside, preventing them — or her, really, when she's the one who says it's too dangerous to do a deadly activity in such horrible weather — from living a little on the wild side. cliff-diving really isn't something cora particularly likes doing, but, it makes her feel a little freer when they do it. she's invincible. nothing can touch her. not even the waves as she crashes into them. but forks still can, with it's arm extended rather miserably towards her. ]
[ jacob's being annoying, radiating so much heat. he's being awfully quiet, too. she doesn't like it. sparing him a glance, she sees the fairy lights light up his skin in such a warm way that he reminds her of the sun on the best days of beacon hills. she's gotten so used to hearing him practically narrate her life that she isn't quite sure what to do when she can hear herself think. ]
[ so, she does the only thing she can think of. glancing at him from the corner of her eye, she slowly leans towards the headrest of her bed, fingers locking on a plump pillow ... ]
oh my god i'm about to cry
[ they sit in her room; it's a little try-hard girly. at a garage sale, on one of the very rare days of sunshine and warmth, derek had bought her some fairy lights she couldn't quite let herself let go of. stuck to the wall above the headrest, they line her bed with brighter light than the dull lightbulb above them. it's raining hard outside, preventing them — or her, really, when she's the one who says it's too dangerous to do a deadly activity in such horrible weather — from living a little on the wild side. cliff-diving really isn't something cora particularly likes doing, but, it makes her feel a little freer when they do it. she's invincible. nothing can touch her. not even the waves as she crashes into them. but forks still can, with it's arm extended rather miserably towards her. ]
[ jacob's being annoying, radiating so much heat. he's being awfully quiet, too. she doesn't like it. sparing him a glance, she sees the fairy lights light up his skin in such a warm way that he reminds her of the sun on the best days of beacon hills. she's gotten so used to hearing him practically narrate her life that she isn't quite sure what to do when she can hear herself think. ]
[ so, she does the only thing she can think of. glancing at him from the corner of her eye, she slowly leans towards the headrest of her bed, fingers locking on a plump pillow ... ]
[ cora whacks him with it. hard. ]