Hiram smiled, still for a while as he thought to himself. Her answers both made him ache and understand her more. Tapping his chin, he wondered if he could do the same service of helping her know him.

"Well, what would you have?" he queried softly, laying his head back and staring at the ceiling.

"I was born in Wales on the ninth day of August, in the year of our Lord sixteen-hundred and nine. My mother died giving birth and all I was to ever know was my father's misplaced sense of justice and judgement. I was raised to be a soldier and we fought in many wars in service to the Prince of Wales. First Charles the first, then the second... We followed the second through his exile, though I originally agreed with Oliver Cromwell's republic. However, following Cromwell's death and the restoration of Charles II as King of England, Scotland, and Ireland, we were back in service to the crown."

He shrugged. "I had taken a wife when in exile. I was not going to leave her, either through death, or joining the King's return... My father sought otherwise and took her from me before my eyes. I vowed I would destroy him, and ended my life... Thus beginning a new one as you now see me."

"I followed the King with nothing left, but I eventually asked for my leave when he found it strange I no longer aged as he did. I hunted Carlisle to the New World... One where I found a brother. Christian. Teaching him, he too joined in my fight against Carlisle. That is his story to tell though."

Snickering, he looked down to her, "But histories are not necessarily what we speak of. I learned quickly to enjoy those things that tied me back to the living after I'd taken my life. Literature, plays, music..." He paused and grinned, "Food, and other carnal pleasures... These were what kept me moving. Today, the quickest way to my good graces? A fresh baked pie. Any kind." He chuckled.

"Does that help you understand me any more than you already do?" Oddly, he found himself growing comfortable. "The things that bring flavor to life, those are the things I desire. That is the type of man who shares his bed so willingly."

Esme smiled forlornly, her voice - like her eyes - heavy with sleep. "I always did believe that Death is madly in love with Life." 

Nestling into him, she whispered softly, "Now the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams...

And the stars never rise, but I feel her bright eyes...

And so, all the night-tide, I lay down by the side

Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,

In her sepulchre there by the sea—

In her tomb by the sounding sea...

...And I stand amid the roar

Of a surf-tormented shore,

And I hold within my hand

Grains of the golden sand —

How few! yet how they creep

Through my fingers to the deep,

While I weep — while I weep!

O God! Can I not clasp

Them with a tighter grasp?

O God! can I not save

One from the pitiless wave?

Is all that we see or seem

But a dream within a dream?"

Her breathing grew shallow and even as she drifted away. Relaxing into his arms, on the edge of rest, she mumbled sleepily, "When we get settled, I  bake a mean amber pudding."

Hiram listened, eyes closing as she spoke the poem. It was a beautiful mash of some of his favorites, and he enjoyed that she so easily threw lines together to make her own story. However, it was all he could do to not laugh out loud, loudly, at her amber pudding comment as she mumbled...

Even the soft chuckle he dared let loose might be enough to rouse her from her near-sleep state and he held his breath as she stirred and nuzzled in closer. Sighing softly, he closed his eyes. It was going to be another long night, much like the last time he spent one with Tsukina... Keeping her safe in sleep while he sat there hour after hour counting the ringlets in her hair, or the tiles on the floor, or the stars he could see in the windows, or the times that a cloud passed over the full moon.

The full moon... Maybe that explained the strength of her abilities. Surely it just had to do with tonight being the strongest night, much like Ely and his pack. Silently Hiram shook his head though. He knew the abilities weren't from the moon. They were inherited. It was in her blood, like Christian's... Like his, and Salvatore's.

His hand absentmindedly trailed up and down her back as he laid there, not even realizing that he was quickly falling for the feeling of having her near... Even if there was still the feeling of being trapped, at least it wasn't as bad as it had started. She'd wiggle her way in if she kept persisting as she had thus far. He told himself no, but he knew the truth. He could feel it. Something inside of him felt... Warm.

Esme slept peacefully. No nightmares stirred her slumber. No memories roused her fear. If ever she'd believed in talismans, she'd have sworn he must be one. 

Late in the morning, she stirred lightly; early, golden sunlight dancing through the gossamer curtains like fairies on the air. Stretching gently, she wriggled against him as she arched her back with a soft, sleepy groan. "Good morning," she chirped, not needing to remind herself where she was or how she'd gotten there. "You don't sleep," she commented offhand... more an observation than a question. 

Outside the door, she could hear the rest of the house already stirring. No doubt, gossip was afoot and filtering in to his sensitive ears. Soft chuckles wafted down the hall from the kitchen, carried on the tantalizing scent of maple bacon and warm cinnamon rolls. Grinning, Esme tossed the covers back with an excited gasp, her bare feet shuffling softly across the hardwood floors as she tugged on his shirt. "Cinnamon rolls," she crooned and squealed, throwing open the door and scurrying excitedly down the hall. 

The sounds of her eager steps carried her quickly into the kitchen, where she was promptly met with six pairs of bright, expectant eyes. Their sly smirks and suspecting glances stopped her in her tracks... knocking the wind from her sails as she stuttered and blushed, frozen on the spot. 

"I... um... no," she blushed and chuckled softly before tiptoeing around the table to help herself to breakfast. But her denial did nothing to quell the playful, anticipation that hung over the room.

"No..." Hiram reiterated as he caught the stares as well. There was no blush to his skin though, and his eyes caught Christian's. There was a decipherable hint of fear in Hiram's eyes, but Christian was the ONLY one who knew his brother well enough to even see it before it vanished behind the glazed over sense of foodie...

"So who made the 'Sin'-amon rolls because I have to thank you, the smell is DEEEEE-VINE!" He grinned, grabbing Esme's hand and dragging her over to the counter. "C'mon kiddo. You don't get a second chance, once they're gone, they're gone... Then you fend for yourself." He handed her a plate and as his hand and Salvatore's hand landed on the same cinnamon roll, Hiram kicked out and shoved him away with his foot.

"Helllll to the nope, I'm calling seniority. I'm the oldest person in this house, thank you for leaving Elyan, and I'm laying claim to this big roll. Plus, I'm going to share it with the new girl and hope she likes me."

He chuckled, knowing he'd get a chuckle from everyone. "Who knows, maybe tomorrow morning won't be a 'no'." Spinning, he handed her a plate with bacon, half of the large cinnamon roll, and a fork... Noting her expression, he pointed at it. "Just in case you didn't want to get your fingers sticky."

Sliding across the kitchen like he owned the place...Because well, he did... Hiram opened the cupboard and retrieved two mugs. "Coffee, milk, tea?" he asked, looking at Esme as he poured himself a cup of coffee, adding milk and sugar without paying attention or making a mess...

Esme chuckled, dipping her finger into the icing and licking it playfully. "Mmm... surprise me," she teased and challenged him coyly, "Make me something complimentary. I trust your tastes. Impress me." Winking, she spun and... with no open chairs at the table... slid into a perch on the countertop. Diving into the cinnamon roll without reserve, she quickly added through, "The 'new girl' has a name, you know." She met his gaze with a teasing smile, "And I don't think I've heard you say it yet. Certainly, you haven't forgotten already?" 

She winked at him playfully before turning and shooting Kina - of all people - an impish smile. "Come on, say my name, love," she coaxed him. But the look that she caught from Christian quickly cut her mischief short. "Or not..." she mumbled, shoving the cinnamon roll into her mouth with a look of somber embarrassment. "Showry," she mumbled through chipmunked cheeks. 

"Thish ish reawly goo tho..." she added, gulping down a large bite and nodding to Amelia with a shy smile of gratitude.

Ever chipper, probably thanks to food and family, Hiram didn't skip a beat...

"You've not given me a reason to say it yet, love, and it's gonna take a while before your name itself is comfortable for me to say. There's a story there, and I'd really rather not... Not yet." Spinning, he nodded, then returned to making coffees. Leaning back and setting her's beside her, he winked, looking up at her gaze.

"Nothing terrible by it, it's just a long and... Well... Depressing story and reason." Leaning forward again, he grabbed his cup and food, setting them on the table and sliding them towards a now empty spot as Jakoby made his way to the sink to drop his plate. In a blink, Hiram was at the other side of the table and caught the plate and mug. "Mmmm, perfect."

Digging in, he moaned so loudly it even made Tsukina and Amelia blush... Let alone Esme. Evie was grossed out and left the table, Jakoby chuckling at her newfound distaste. Salvatore and Christian looked at each other and rolled their eyes. Typical.

"Eat your food Hiram, do not fornicate with it, please," Salvatore spat, "Didn't your mother teach you any better?"

The comment drew a long pause, and there was a look of horror from Evie, Jakoby, and Tsukina, with a look of befuddlement from Esme and ire from Amelia... However, the three brothers burst out with laughter and Hiram stuck his finger in the icing, then chased Salvatore around the table. "YOU'RE ONE TO TALK! DIDN'T YOUR MOTHER TEACH YOU ANYTHING?!" Easily catching his brother, Hiram wiped the icing on Sal's nose and threw his hands in the air triumphantly.

"STILL YOUR VICTORIOUS AND UNDISPUTED KING OF THE KITCHEN!" Hiram feigned applause and yelling as he stomped around the kitchen table.

"Okay, okay, that is quite enough. Calm yourselves in front of the guest, please..." Christian added before leaning to the side to dodge the bit of icing flung by Hiram. "And clean that up so that Amelia does not have to clean up even more of your messes."

"Thank you, Christian," Amelia tagged onto the end of his statement.

Hiram chuckled and apologized to Amelia, "Sorry, I'll take care of all the dishes so you don't have to." He smiled, then winked at Sal who mouthed a 'thank you' at him as Amelia grinned and drug him away.

Sighing, he looked at Christian. "So how is the food..." he paused and turned to their guest, "Esmerie?"

Esme blinked at him. She didn't mean to do. It just happened. And in a moment, her chipper smile turned to tears. Turning away, she wiped her cheeks quickly, trying to hide what she had done. "Delicious. It's absolutely delicious," quipped quickly... her words rushed as she reached for her coffee cup. 

Why did she love the way he said it? Knowing what she knew... knowing it would never be the same... always tainted. Literally forever. 

Refusing to meet their gazes, she stared into her coffee cup for a long moment before taking a sip and veritably melting - her vocal moan rivalling Hiram's previous as the sweet warmth slipped over her tongue like creamy velvet. "OH shit. That's good. That's REALLY good." 

She smiled, lightly tarnished though it was. "Thank you," she glanced at him ever so briefly before lowering her eyes again, her words heavy with meaning. 

Hiram was at her side in nearly an instant, shushing and brushing her hair from her face as he raised her gaze.

"It is fine, my dear. It is fine. It's been over four-hundred years. It's about time I move on, is it not?" He chuckled softly, peering into her eyes like searching through her soul.

"I'll be okay, do not fret it." Leaning forward, he kissed her forehead. "Now drink your coffee and go shower, then change into your things. We need to go to your wagon and gather what you're bringing to L.A. with us."

Christian perked up and looked over, "So she's accepted that she is going with us?"

"Decided, you mean?" Hiram pointed his for at Christian, with a wink.

"No... She was going whether she wanted to or not. I will not endanger her and her caravan by leaving her alone in this city against Carlisle."

"Let us at least pretend she had a choice in the matter, dear brother?" Hiram quipped, smiling at Esmerie.

"You mean like you had a choice in her finding you?" Christian queried, brow raised in triumphant impishness drawing quiet chuckles from the rest of the family.

Hiram frowned.

"Bleh bleh bleh... Don't you have anything else to add to this conversation?"

"Only that I do not go, bleh bleh bleh..." What was this? Christian with a sense of humor? Hiram, taken aback by his brother's mischievous musings for the morning, shook his head and laughed.

"Fine, fine... Yes, she's going. Are you happy?"

"Verily."

Hiram blinked...

Shaking his head he started gathering the dishes. "Hurry and get cleaned up, dearest Esme. I will have this all ready and be dressed by the time you are."

Esme chuckled softly, "He's right you know. There never was a choice. And I've no delusions about it." Plastering an impish smirk over her lingering sadness, she waited for him to take her plate before dipping her finger in the remaining icing and booping his nose. 

Before he had time to mentally react, she dipped out from under his arm, snagging the very last cinnamon roll from the table as she headed for the door. 

"QUEEN OF THE KITCHEN," her voice rang out playfully as she skipped up the stairs to 'her' room... leaving the others behind to blink and chuckle. 

Upstairs, her clothes were clean, folded, and waiting neatly on the bed. Humming softly, she showered as quickly as she was able... avoiding wetting her unruly curls for the time being. Slipping into her clean clothes, she tossed her borrowed nightgown into the wicker basket by the door and raked her ringlets back into a silk scarf. 

To her mild surprise, Hiram WAS in fact done with his chores, primped and polished by the time she made it back downstairs. And she stole a few moments in te doorway of the den to marvel as him as he lay, stretched like a lazy cat in the sun, across the sofa with his nose in yet another book. 

"Which is it this time," she cooed, drawing his attention with a sparkling smile. "Ready when you are," she winked.

Hiram lowered the book below his gaze with a smirk. "Nothing to worry your little head about, darling." Folding the book closed, he sat it on the end table behind him and twisted himself to stand up. "Well, I'm ready too."

He hurried himself down the hall to Christian's office and knocked, calling out. "She's ready, brother."

"Very well, Hiram... Do make it quick. I'd like to get an early start in the morning. It's a decently long flight for us to make it out to L.A.," Christian's voice called from inside. "And I pray I don't need to stress that you -must- be careful, Hiram?"

"I know, I know. Careful, in and out, only what we need we can send for the rest later."

"Correct. Everything that is going to make a trip with strangers easier."

"Aye." Hiram jogged back down the hallway and paused at the door, offering his arm for her.

"Well, let's get this day moving," Hiram chirped with a smile, opening the front door and leading her outside... At least this time it wouldn't take her as long to get back to her wagon as it had taken her to get here in the first place.

"And should we let you get some Chicken and Waffles while we're out?" Hiram chuckled.

Esme smiled, taking his arm. "Only if you want to," she crooned, laying her head on his shoulder, "Don't we need to hurry?"

The sun was warm and the breeze pleasantly brisk as they picked their way through the streets. Her steps were light as she bobbed and bounced along on his arm. It wasn't quite a skip, but there was certainly a pep in her step. Weaving more easily through the growing crowds than Hiram had ever seen, she turned to face him... tugging him along with a bright smile that rivalled the sun with its glee and playfulness. 

The caravan was just beginning to buzz as they neared the outskirts of the market proper. Clean cement streets gave way to cobblestone and eventually to dry dirt pathways the farther they ventured into the heart of her makeshift gypsy metropolis. There were a surprising number of wagons and caravans, all scattered haphazardly throughout the open air space with seemingly no rhyme or reason. But as Hiram watched the genius and design of the seeming pointless madness started to reveal itself. 

Down the block, a soft commotion could be heard... shouts and running. Hiram was quick on the uptake; at Esme's side in the blink of an eye, a hard hand clasped around her upper arm. With a look of sour incredulity, Esme pulled away. Turning, to Hiram's dismay, toward the commotion. A young boy burst from the crowd, a few dollar bills and a gold pocket watch dangling from one clenched fist. Hiram heard the child call Esmerie's name, followed by a string of unrecognizable words. Without reply, Esme clasped her hands with a practiced 'alley-oop' style fluidity. And with tired familiarity hoisted the child up onto the roof of a nearby wagon. 

Three steps total... cobblestone, Esme's hands, rooftop. It was clean and surprisingly easy, as if the two had done so a million times. And as the boy effortlessly disappeared down a highway of tin roofs and coloured ribbon, Hiram began to chuckle with amused wonder. The 'city' didn't make sense to him because he was on the GROUND. The haphazard, nonsensical, cluttered placement of their paths and homes was intentional... allowing free travel from above and easily hindering the unfamiliar gadje below. It was rather ingenious. 

Sensing his fascination, Esme eyed the wagon the boy had just climbed with a cunning smirk. Porch rail, stacked boxes, flag line, weather vane. In a blink, she smiled down at him from the roof of the little building, leaning down to offer her hand. "Come on. We'll take the short cut. I'll show you," her eyes smiled at him like the radiant moon... hiding the betrayal of her act. Her people would never stand an outsider knowign their secrets. But she was never coming back anyway. So what threat did exile really hold? It would give them a reason... should Carlisle ever return... to be sheltered from his ire. ... hopefully... 

Hiram, not taking her hand, followed her way up. Mostly... Porch rail, boxes, lower on the weather vane so it didn't loosen with his added weight, and he was up beside her. He could be nimble too. Whether she believed it or not, he was rather used to climbing and moving across vantage points unknown to the world below.

Looking out over the rooftops, he grinned. Now it all made sense. The way it forced people below to go around many obstacles while the above ran in a nearly straight line. Ingenious.

"I see how much of a shortcut this really is now..." He chuckled softly. "So the different colored ribbons... Different paths to different destinations I presume? Or warnings of -not this way- perhaps?"

He looked at her and smiled. "Onward then! Show me your ways, though I am fairly certain I already understand..." He watched as the child continued in the distance, simply to vanish back below the tin rooftops.

Esme nuzzled his nose - Eskimo style - as he mounted the roof. "I thought so," she giggled, before turning to look out over the city. Nodding at his assessment, she smiled... growing more confident in her decision each moment she spent with him. "Different destinations. Green," she pointed out to the left where the boy had disappeared, "to the fence. Purple straight to Vadoma, our Matriarch... of sorts. Yellow for food. Blue to Fortune Row. Orange for wares and trinkets. Red for the performer's ring. And pink for family houses."

With a sing-song tone, she added, "Green is for money. Yellow for bones. Blue to have your fortune told. Purple means trouble. Orange makes us double. And red puts on a good show. But pink, sweet pink, beneath your bare feet will always lead you home." 

With a wink, she took his hand and turned toward the line of blue flags that stretched back toward the mansion. "The layout changes every time we move. So the colours help us get where we're going, regardless." Noting his quizzical expression as he glanced back at the pink ropes, she chuckled, "I live where I work, love. No family for me." 

'Here at least', she added softly under her breath as she picked her way carefully across rough shingles and hot tin. 

It was a short hop, skip, and a jump... almost literally... before she was shimmying gracefully down the branches of a young oak tree that shaded the sprawling rug-laden 'yard' that served as a makeshift porch office outside of the small, cluttered wagon that she called home. 

She smiled as her feet touched down on the soft, padded ground of familiar territory. But the look slowly faded as memories from the night before flashed through her mind, her steps stuttering and hesitating as she waited for Hiram. It was an odd sensation, waiting for the all-clear...in her own home... from a stranger who'd never been there. But his presence calmed her and took away the sting of the glaring crimson stain that peeked out from beneath her living room rugs. A harsh reminder, for both of them, as she quietly sifted through her life... assigning importance to each piece and each memory as she chose what to keep and what to discard. 

It wasn't much. A few day's clothes, her favourite shawl scarf... or three... a carefully wrapped deck of cards, her favourite incense, a few coins of no normal value, a small stash of cash, a gem-studded gold band, a filigree nazar amulet, and a gold and silver locket adorned with a single oval ruby. 

That was all. Out of everything she owned, that was all she cared to carry with her. It was almost like watching a child pack... a unique peek into exactly what was considered 'important' in the mind of his newfound companion... an intimate glimpse of how she assigned value and meaning to her life. And it felt as though it were over all to quickly. 

Sliding the ring onto her finger, she tossed the amulet and locket around her neck with a definitive nod. These were her treasures. With her fingers lovingly tracing the engraving on the back of the locket, Esme shot Hiram a shy smile. "That's all," she admitted, knowing just how little it was in comparison to what might be expected. But it was everything that she needed. 

Nodding, they turned and were promptly met with a stern, reverberating knock at the door that shook the small wagon with its urgent force.

Hiram flinched, instinctively pushing Esme behind him. But she KNEW that knock. And by the expression she gave him, she'd been expecting it. 

"Come in and close the door," she called, the door opening to reveal a large, older woman, the small boy from earlier, and two very surly looking men. Seeing the child, Esme pouted, "Aw, Jeje... YOU?!"  With a look of shy regret, the boy hid his face behind the elder woman's skirts. 

"Do not chastize him, Esmerie. YOU are the one who has broken our most sacred laws," the woman barked, pointing her finger across the room. Behind her, Esme felt Hiram prickle. And with a reassuring smile, she gave him a soft pat. "Yes, yes. Vadoma," Esme rolled her eyes. "Get on with it. I wave my right to jury," she stated flatly, drawing an ill-disguised look of surprise from the woman. Reaching into her bag, Esme withdrew the cash she'd saved and two of the coins. "This should cover what I owe the family," she said passing off the cash. "And these for safe passage," she tossed down the two coins. "Before the witnesses here, I accept exile for my betrayal with out contest, and relinquish my wagon and all my belongings to the council to be divided for the greater good." 

Croaking softly, the woman hesitated for a moment before reaching out and taking the money and coins. "What are you on, Esme? What have you read?" the woman asked softly, her narrow eyes searching Esme's features. Esme simply smiled, "It's better this way, MamaVa. Trust me."

There was a long silence before Vadoma nodded with a sigh, "As you wish, Esmerie. I accept the terms of your exile in recompense for your betrayal. May fortune favour you... for we no longer will." With another heavy sigh, the woman motioned the others out of the house before turning and giving Esmerie one last look. "I hope he's worth it," is all the woman said as she slammed the heavy wagon door behind them.

Hiram shook his head before looking at Esmerie.

"Anything else you want to take since they mistakenly left us in here? We could get you a little money from some of the items if you fear you will need it. I promise you will not, though. Only things that are sentimental in value would be the things to truly worry about. And I can always come and burn this wagon later if you wish to give them one last -stick-." He chuckled. "But I know you won't, and I respect you more for it." 

Nodding, Hiram opened the door and started to move outside before the sunlight glinted off the silver locket and caught his eye. Turning to it he froze, half inside and half out, staring at the silvered locket and red gemstone inlaid. It was as if his mind twisted and he was stuck as he searched for what to do.

He stood there, blocking the door for a few moments, before slowly stepping back inside and shutting the door.

"Where did you get that?" he pointed to the locket slowly, reaching toward her as he focused on it.

Esme shook her head, "I can ply my trade if I need to. But I trust you to take of me," she winked playfully. "And they can have the wagon. It's just a shell. Someone else can make it a home." She nearly slammed into him as he froze, backing away with a look that clearly suspected the worst. 

She sighed with exaggerated relief, smacking him lightly as she realized the world WASN'T ending. "I thought there was something outside," she hissed with a relieved giggle before noting the pained look of confusion in his eyes. 

"I... I found it?" she replied, clutching it as if he might take it away. "Or rather, it found me," she added with a chuckle. Relaxing, she shot him an apologetic smile as she slipped off over her head and held it out to him. "It was hanging in the tree a few days after....." her eyes trailed silently to the stains on the floor. "The wind was blowing, and the light caught it just right to twinkle in my window. I... I thought the crows had dropped it. Or maybe someone had lost it on the run. My place is right on the way to the fence. But... I liked it. So I kept it. Finders keepers and all that. I've worn it almost every day since. It keeps me company. And makes me feel... watched over. Much more so than that cheap half-assed shit in the market. And at the time I needed that." 

"....why...?" her eyes narrowed for a moment before she turned herself away. Her eyes fixated on the rough grain of her unfinished wood floor, giving her something to focus on so she didn't 'do the thing'... hand still outstretched as she waited for him to take the little talisman from her. Dangling from its chain, the locket twisted and spun, catching in the sunlight as the garnet glinted enticingly like a single drop of crimson blood.

Hiram reached out for it, taking the silver heart-shape into his hand gingerly. He was silent, withdrawn, and unflinching; not even to breath. When he did move, it was to flip the heart over and look at the back of the locket, then forward again before opening it. Of course, the pictures he longed to see were not inside and he frowned, snapping it closed again.

"This..." he started, then the words caught in his throat.

"I gave this..." he tried, again to no avail.

"Esmerelda's. This was hers." He lowered the heart back to Esme's chest. "I gave it to her before our betrothal. Something to remember 'us' by as I went to war. When I returned, we were engaged and wed... She wore it every day, and I buried it with her." He frowned, ire in his voice. "I'll need to return to Wales and investigate her grave site to insure Carlisle has not hastened away with her..."

He growled softly, "We cannot dispose of him quick enough I swear!" His fist balled and he slammed it into the frame of the door, softly for him, yet it cracked the wood of the frame and the walling of the wagon branching out from his fist in nearly all directions.

Noting his reaction, he sighed, looking at Esme, "I am sorry... I shall leave money for the repairs if you scribble a note of apology for me. You may blame the gadje of course." He chuckled and smiled nervously, hoping the outburst would not frighten her.

Esmerie swallowed hard, but not for the reasons he suspected. Gingerly, she took a step back, tiptoeing to one of the drawers near her bed. A soft rustling could be heard as she cursed softly under her breath. He thought, surely, she must be looking for paper to leave a note. But, to his surprise, she returned - only - with a closed fist. 

With shaking fingers, she took his hand; her trembling fist resting in his palm for a long moment before she could muster the courage to open it. Her hand rested gently in his for a moment as she stared at the wood-grain floors. Why? Why like this? 

With a quivering sigh, she released him; not meeting his eyes as she moved toward the door. Quietly, she slipped down the steps, leaving him to his privacy as he stared down at a familiar old portrait... yellowed around the edges but amazingly well preserved. She'd wait outside as long as necessary so that he could process his emotions behind closed doors. 

Sliding into a seat at her small table, she fished her cards from her bag... flipping a few over... then a few more... and a few more, before growling in frustration and shoving them unceremoniously back into their place and thrashing everything off the table in a furious, jealous, jaded, dismayed heap. The locket echoing with a sharp clatter off the door of the wagon as it skittered across the porch, launched with all the vitriolic fury of aching, livid frustration. 

There were no words. There were no tears. Nothing would come... nothing but numb, disbelieving outrage as she crumpled, conceding, to the ground beneath the inconquerable weight of fate.

Hiram exited, not long after he'd heard the THUNK echo off the door of the wagon from her throwing of the locket. Looking down, he scooped the silver from the porch and walked over toward her.

"I'm sorry that Carlisle has done this to you. It is not, at all, fair..." He placed his hand on her head, rubbing softly. "Come... We should go. But. If it's anything, I'd actually like for you to have this." He smiled weakly, hoping the gesture would make her smile, as he offered her the locket.

"I'm sure it's odd to hear it was my first wife's, about four-hundred years ago, but... It is here now. Be it for Carlisle, or whatever reason the fates have deemed necessary, it made it to you." He smiled. "Maybe it's a sign from Esmerelda. Maybe it's not. Maybe it's a sign from somwhere else entirely, who knows. All I know, is it makes me happy to see it, and strangely, I love the way it looks on you."

He helped her to her feet and wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling into her neck. "So please, don't feel bad, or angry... Smile, because it brought me to you..." He chuckled, knowing it was stupid, and cheesy, and she'd probably just smack him. But for some reason, he really felt they were supposed to have met for some, unknown, reason...

Esme was violently sad... unbearably, angrily, heartbroken. Sick.d There were no words, no actions to express the intensity of it. In her head, she was screaming... wailing... ripping out handfuls of her dark hair as she clawed the clothes and skin from her chest. In her head, she drove knives into her heart, into her ribs, into her stomach... over and over... just to give the unbearable weight an exit through which to leave her body. She wanted bite... to feel the give of something soft beneath her teeth. She wanted to claw, to rip apart life until the liquid squelch of warmth dripped between her fingers to soothe the burn of her soul. 

Outwardly, she took the locket without a single word and tucked it carefully into her pocket. Outwardly she was numb, withdrawn, sullen. With vacant eyes, she took his hand, leading him away from the market with a huffleing sigh that spoke more than she wanted to say. 

She was quiet for a long while. Even disinterested as they passed the little stall with chicken and waffles. Deep in thought, as she counted the cracks in the cobblestone streets. And for the briefest of moments, Hiram wondered if she would ever speak to him again. Silently, they passed a mother with two small children, the boy... just old enough to totter, streaking toward a stall with cotton candy. The woman called out after him, bidding him 'be careful'. And it seemed as though something sparked behind Esme's eyes. 

"My mother never named me, you know," Esmerie glanced up at Hiram ever so briefly. "They named me after the ship... you know... the one I was born on," she said softly with a toss of her dark curls, "Always kind of silly, I thought... to be named after a boat. It's like naming your child after the hospital. That's no way to name a baby." 

Her eyes followed the clouds, the trees, the street, a child's red balloon as it floated away... anything but meeting his gaze. "Maybe... I mean I always thought I might one day... so... maybe you'd like to pick a different one?" 

She glanced into the polished windows of the jewellery store they passed, using the reflection to indirectly evaluate his expression. "I wouldn't mind," she half-smiled, "It might be easier. And it could... you know... be a thing. Ours. Not...." she didn't finish the sentence. She didn't have to.