• when angels deserve to die | Rosalie&Sven

rosalie-vanderbilt:

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. Meditation was stupid. She’d never had to meditate before. Rosalie was strong. She was. She didn’t need oceans or deep breathing because she was in control. She could make people believe anything she wanted. She could make them want to bark like dogs or she could make them believe they actually were animals. She was powerful.

She was lying to herself.

She knew that she was slipping. Her grasp on her power wasn’t as all-encompassing as it had been five months ago. She was losing the little things: the ability to subtly influence someone’s decisions instead of outright controlling them. Maybe because Rosalie wasn’t subtle herself. She was passionate and outspoken. If she had a problem with someone, she sure as hell let them know. And that translated to her power.

When are you going to give up? You need his help.

“Oh, right,” she snapped. “You don’t need training because your power is perfect, right?” She didn’t think he’d told her what he could do, but she didn’t doubt it was something weak. Something inferior to give him such a superiority complex. She sneered. “I don’t torture people. I tell stupid people what to do to make the world a little bit easier.” And she believed that. Truly, if Rosalie could just influence everyone around her, bend the world to exactly the way she wanted it, she would be so much happier. Mother: stop hitting me. Stop hurting me, stop using me. Tristan: start loving me.

She scowled. Didn’t he realize she could kill him with a thought? Never even touch him. Just plant the seeds of an idea in his head. Or better yet, make him kill someone else. Ruin his life. Slowly, slowly influence his mind. Slowly drive him insane, warp his mind with twisted images. Make him believe anything she wanted, just because she could. And she would do it, as well, with barely a second’s thought. Except he seemed to know. Back in the gardens, she’d been ready to use her power and he’d flicked her straight in the face. Maybe that was his power. She wondered exactly what kind of power that was.

“I was not self-schooled,” she bit out, clenching her fists. She wanted to hurt him, but there was that ingrained need to please her mother, to do everything she wanted. That scared little girl she’d once been, desperate for any scrap of affection she could claw from the woman who was supposed to love her. “I had a trainer back in America. She was good, actually. She helped.” She didn’t have me sat around doing hippie shit.

It was getting incredibly difficult at this point, but Sven managed not to roll his eyes at Rosalie. Not that he was annoyed, but simply because he was incredibly tired.I wish she would just keep her mouth shut.He thought to himself. It was ridiculous to think she would ever realize it, Rosalie being the selfish and outspoken girl that she was, but it was as tiring and bothering for Sven just as it was for her. Sven wished she would just stop complaining, stop asking questions, stop making it such a personal vendetta between him and her—juststopso that they could both get this over with and get on with their lives. He knew there was something,something deep, dark and tortured lying beneath all those shades and layers of hate and venom that Rosalie wore over herself, he had genuinely wanted to help her, but it was impossible to ask of him not to at least feel a little apprehensive. He knew Rosalie realized why she needed his help, but she still couldn’t accept it and it was becoming a nuisance. So he kept at the pace, hoping she would burn out soon.

“Yes, my power is perfect, thank you.” he said, ending with a high note and bowing his head in a polite and sarcastic gesture of thanks. She had no idea what he could do—and it was best if they kept it that way. He needed that advantage. If Sven let his guard down for just a second he would be completely hopeless against Rosalie. He needed to keep his eyes out on her all the time.

“Well, I won’t say anything about your previous training or your previous trainer, but obviously it was insufficient—so let’s just say you’re moving on to the next level.” Sven had completely used up the cigarette, and he was trying hard not to push it by taking out another one completely. It was going to be a long, long day. He needed to harden the premise.

“Anyway, Rosalie—here’s the thing, and this is what we need to establish for as long as yourmotherrequires me to look over your training, which is a fact neither you nor I can change—” he paused, reading the contents of the Vanderbilt woman’s letter again in his head.

“Basically,I do not careat all what you think about training, what you think about me. You can go to whatever friends you have to complain about that, I don’t mind. Just that you take that garbage out elsewhere—this is only business, remember that, nothing personal and since I’m the only adult between the two of us, I’m the only one who’s kept it in mind so far. So I’m reminding you. So, keep your mouth shut because everything that comes out of it is useless and irrelevant. Sit back down and do as I say.”

It had sounded more threatening and Sven felt he might have lost his cool a little bit, but it had the effect he wanted. The last time he had been like this was either with his brother or his sister, but this wasn’t nearly as bad as the fits he had with his siblings—not even close, and for that he was thankful. He meditated on his own for a few seconds, clearing his mind and controlling his breathing.

It was too early to be doing this, and Sven wanted nothing more than to go back to his book.

• Mist || Sven & Charlotte

charlottebourbon:

Her eyes widened, and she shook her head in disbelief. “St. John, really?” she chuckled. “But.. but why? He was so confusing. Acting like he didn’t like Jane one bit and then asking her to marry him…?” she licked her lips lightly and grinned. “Well. I’m open for your opinions,” she ran a hand through her hair.

She had to admit that it was a wonderful thing to sit down with someone and just talk of the most inane things. Not that her favorite book was inane, but… compared to recent events, it was light. A welcome feeling. And to be able to talk like that with Sven, it was rather surprising. Granted they were not close, but she knew Sven must have at least noticed that she wasn’t feeling her best. And his taking the time to be in her company didn’t go unnoticed. Already she was feeling better, slightly, and she had him to thank.

“Our heroine, of course. Jane is just.. I’m very partial to her. From her childhood, up to the last moment, I envied her spirit, her strength to overcome the challenges she was faced,” Charlotte shrugged. “But… Helen Burns comes in a close second.”

He chuckled lightly at her surprise to his reaction with the Rivers character in Charlotte’s book, only because he expected it and understood well that not a lot of people would agree with him, but he seemed to feel a strange affliction and empathy from St. John—his character wasn’t fully divulged, but Sven could just make out glimpses for what little was given of him.

St. John was well-mannered and excessively polite, but only because he was supposed to, it was customary, and that was what was expected of him. Despite his sternness, it was obvious he cared a lot about the common good and the common people and devoted his life to that mission—but that was it. As far as emotions went, St. John shunned them. He was confused by them, he felt weakened by them. He was cold and calculating to a certain extent, burdened with responsibility and duty and thus leaving with him with little else to expect of life except to do what he had to—only because he had to do it, only because no one else could.

He remembered how he reacted the first time he read it. Sven closed the book, leaving his finger in between to mark the page as he chuckled to himself, humored and bitter at the same time. That does certainly remind me of someone, he said to himself. He said it to himself now again while he talked to Charlotte. But he couldn’t tell her about all that. So he made his reply nice and simple.

“Well, I’m not sure I can explain it—his character is very interesting to me, though. And judging from your reply just now it seems not a lot of people are intrigued by St. John Rivers as I am.” he smiled.

“Confusing, perhaps, because the book is about Jane and not him—to most readers he perhaps only seems like the character who exists to be the counterbalance for Rochester. Those characters with the shadowy backgrounds—I believe I’m attracted to that sort, just glimpses, and it would surprise you how much you believe you know about them just from the guessing.” he traced imaginary lines on the surface of the stone fountain, idly, as he pondered Charlotte’s reply.

“Mmmmnn, I could see why.” he said with a smile. “For both Jane and Helen, yes indeed it’s very understandable. Although to be quite honest with you I’m still a little uncertain as to why she refused to take Rochester in the first place. Would you sit here with me a little while longer, miss? Help me out with that and bounce some ideas around, perhaps?” he could strongly feel that Charlotte was beginning to unwind, and he thought he would keep up the pace and do her a favor.

(Source: svenellestad)

• when angels deserve to die | Rosalie&Sven

rosalie-vanderbilt:

Rosalie’s eyes rolled and she crossed her arms over her chest. “So fucking what? What are the pretty oceans in my head gonna do to help me progress?” Rosalie knew she had problems with anger. She knew that she flew off the handle at the slightest thing. But he made it so easy. It was like every other word that came out of his mouth sent the red mist slamming down. Rosalie had never done well with authority, mostly because she’d been forced to obey it all her life. So when Sven attempted to get all ‘I’m your trainer, do what I say’ it just made her ten times angrier.

And then that infuriating stillness - that absolute iciness she wanted to slap out of him. He just stood there, smoking and staring. She wanted him to react, she wanted him to get just as angry as she was. What was the point in having a tantrum if no one cared you were raging?

She scoffed and spat, “That’s just a decade of slowly blackening your lungs then, isn’t it dumbass?” Rosalie laughed loudly, a sound of utter contempt. “Really? Mental torture? Fucking hell, first gags and now torture. Keep your kinks to yourself, Norskie, nobody’s interested.” He didn’t have a clue what he was talking about. Rosalie didn’t torture anyone - she gave idiots what they deserved.

“I didn’t say I wanted to train so much. I want to train in a way that’s worthwhile, instead of sitting around daydreaming and singing Kumbaya or whatever the fuck you’ve got me doing.”

“Hmmm, I don’t know—just that they came from you. You tell me. I was trying to help you out in that particular area but oh well.” Sven felt tired. Suddenly he felt a dull thrumming at the back of his head and on his temples. All of a sudden, he was sickeningly amazed at Rosalie’s ability to burst out into anger at the smallest trigger and keep it up for so long—that, and her ability to run her mouth all sorts of ways. She was no more than a child and if Sven was most people, Rosalie would have already gotten the fight she wanted from the get-go. But Sven wasn’t interested in appeasing her tantrums.

“Yes, it is.” he answered stoically, ironically, with another breath of smoke he breathed into the sky just to press his point. For a few moments his mind went back to his past. We did it to keep the cold out. He said to himself—Rosalie obviously had issues with her own family, but what would she ever know about the life he led? She would never know how it was like to live in a house with paper-thin walls, and how it felt like during the harsh and hopeless winters up in his homeland. Then and there when the cold chilled you down to your bones and you hardly had any blankets to warm yourself, nothing but your skin, your arms to wrap around yourself, and your will to live.

He opened his eyes. He would not think about this. “However, me blackening my lungs isn’t any business of yours since my father didn’t send you to train me. I don’t need it unlike a certain someone. Which is you, by the way.” he retorted. Sven knew it was necessary to at least put out some words of his own, but he didn’t go anywhere past what Rosalie gave him. “Oh, I don’t know—the gags, I meant those. But I can’t stoop down to your level, Rosalie. I mean, torture. Oh.”

Sven laughed bitterly, throwing his head back and bending his knees a little, stuffing his hands down in his pocket. Then he pulled one hand out and took another drag at his cigarette. “And with all due respect—I really don’t want to hear from you the definition of training that’s worthwhile. Otherwise you’d be self-schooled which was, by the way, failing miserably. So. You can go ahead and sing Kumbaya if you want if that makes you feel like it’s worth your time and I’ll just sit here, even though it’s not worth mine.” he smiled at her, the most pleasant one he could manage with a polite bow of his head as he took another breath of smoke.

• ` first meetings || alice & sven

rebellious-ginger:

Alice blinked. What was Sven on about? Catching a cold? Change of clothes and something hot? It wasn’t that she was unused to the concern, but… she was unused to the concern. With a laugh, she stared for a moment. She seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. She wasn’t used to any of the royals being as polite as he was. There was Finn who was sweet as can be, but ten times more casual. She hesitantly took Sven’s hand and stood, shivering after a gust of wind managed to chill her. Maybe he was right about the whole… catching cold thing, even if he did sound like her mum. 

“Madame? Please— Alice. Madame makes me feel old,” she laughed, nose wrinkling. She let go of his hand when she was steady and groaned at the feel of wet clothes sticking to her skin. To be truthful, changing into dry clothes and making a cup of tea did sound appealing at the moment. And maybe she could get to know the mysterious newcomer a little better. 

“Thanks,” she eventually said as they headed away from the fountain and towards the main doors. “I think most people would’ve left me in the fountain.”

Sven removed his glasses, wiping the lenses on the hem of his thin, white shirt since it was spattered with a few drops of water. He placed them carefully back on and pushed them farther up the bridge of his nose. Alice seemed a strange mixture of uncertainty and plain casualness—Sven was beginning to wonder if he perhaps was being a little too over friendly. But he’d set the ball in motion and he’d have to stick through in the end, and it would be in poor taste to say anything about that as it would probably make the both of them uncomfortable. Although taking into regard what he’d seen of Alice the past few minutes they’d made each others’ acquaintances, it seemed a little unlikely and she’d probably just tell him otherwise. Nevertheless it weighed on his mind a bit.

“Alice,then. If my lady insists.” he said with a coy smile and slight nod as they walked on.

“You’re very welcome, then—although I would say you probably should not have thanked me. After all, itwaspartly my fault you ended up well… you know.” he grinned at her.

“Left you there? Why would you say that?”

• Drinks // Sven & Finn

finnthemusician:

Watching the formerly stoic, massive Norwegian royal staggering around and roaring like a giant child, Finn thought he might die. Might laugh so hard he stopped breathing. He laughed until his side cramped, and he could only manage gasps and little yelps of pain around laughter, hunching over a bit. He was still chuckling when  Sven’s arm came around his shoulders. It nearly knocked the air from his lean frame and the bottles slipped from his arms, thudding and rolling along the grass. He’d not grown up with brothers who rough-housed, and it had been a very long time since he’d been so close to a mate to have it again, but he found it was comforting. The prince might’ve been a good three inches taller than him, but Finn managed to throw his own arm over broad shoulders. It wasn’t doing much good to help either of them walk, but that just meant more laughing.

“Did I promise?” he crowed, eyes gone wide. “Well den, hold up dere, boyo!” Extricating himself from Sven just as they reached the main stairway to the door, Finn trotted over to one of the stone balustrades and clambered atop it. Once he was steady and balanced, arms held out like he might keel over at any point, he winked down at the prince. “No table—dis’ll hafta’ do.” And then he straightened up, clearing his throat more loudly than necessary and addressed the invisible crowd standing round Sven. “Welcome everybody! To the Irish party. Grab yer drink. And the person nearest to ye. And let’s have a good time, ay?” Somewhere his brain knew he wasn’t at one of the band’s shows, but his grin stayed in place, green eyes hazy as he burst into the song itself. 

Read More

Sven had no idea how he and Finn would have looked like then, walking around the gardens the way they did—it was impossible to tell if they were strangling or supporting each other, impossible to tell if they were gasping for air or laughing. His mind was afloat with the alcohol and passing the time good. He swayed and buckled, clutching his sides as he watched Finn climb up a stone balustrade and begin his performance. He might have been drunk, and Finn was definitely singing a drinking song, but it was easy enough to tell that the young Irishman indeed possessed a fine voice—he wondered vaguely at the back of his intoxicated mind how much more amazing he would sound sober, and singing a different sort of song. He had to admit it was a very catchy tune, and as a sign of appreciation and awe the only thing he could do was laugh even harder, falling onto the grass chest down and slapping the ground with his hand to the beat of Finn’s song. He suddenly thought—it could have been better if there were more of them there, and for one sober moment he remembered how that seemed impossible. Sven hated parties, and to him, to be someone’s drinking mate was something of a sacred rite.

Even better if there were more of them and there were actually tables—everybody would be dancing around in pairs and prancing about from one table to another trashing the entire place. And then Finn’s singing faltered and fluctuated, and when Sven tossed his heap up he had fallen into the shrubbery—that didn’t stop him from singing, though. Which told Sven that his drinking mate was alright. Nothing serious. But he staggered back up, laughing, dragging his feet along the grass as he wobbled towards Finn. He held him by the collar first, wrapped his arm around the torso and slung Finn’s arm over his broad shoulders. Finn was very light, it took Sven little effort, even though he was shaking with laughter.

“Might fine voice you got there, boy-o. I mean it.” he tried to compose himself, to let him feel the degree of the compliment and Sven managed to give him a warm grin.

• ` first meetings || alice & sven

rebellious-ginger:

It was true that Alice wasn’t like most princesses of Versailles, but she didn’t go about advertising it much now. At least, she hadn’t in the past couple of weeks. She wasn’t drunk off of her arse every night and making a fool out of herself like she’d been for the past couple of years. And so she just continued to smile and shrugged a shoulder. “Oi, s’all right. If ye fell into the fountain, I’d probably still be laughin’.” And it was true— she wouldn’t be able to contain herself because somehow, that image was even funnier. A laugh escaped her. Both relaxed now, she found it a little easier to breathe, head falling back with a sigh.

She reached for Sven’s hand when she straightened up again and shook it, smile widening. “Prince and trainer, huh?” she asked, cocking a brow because… wow. Double duty. How many princes also trained other royals? None, that she could think of. Nose wrinkling in thought. “Ye must keep busy, huh? Jus’ started trainin’, me. Never really had to before. Looong story.”

“Hmmm? Am I the only one who’s doing double duty, then?” he thought of it for a minute. It did seem like a difficult job, but Sven was different. He was taught at an early age and he learned more from experience and observation than anywhere else—training was a difficult affair, given his trainee, but it served for relevant insight. It was the purpose he needed to serve in exchange for the experience he was sent to gain here in Versailles.

“Oh yeah? Busy, not so much. I have a different definition of busy, I suppose. If one considers the working hours I spent back at home. You know how it is.” he smiled, standing up and clearing his throat.

“I think it would be best if we headed back to the palace, madame. Get you a change of clothes and something hot. You’ll catch a cold in your state. We can talk about this on the way, no?” he said politely, offering her a hand to help her stand.

• when angels deserve to die | Rosalie&Sven

rosalie-vanderbilt:

“All for today? So what’s tomorrow? More meditation? More pretty oceans and colours and getting fuck all done?” She let out a growl of frustration. How was she ever meant to progress, to get out of these stupid training sessions if he insisted on not training her?

His insistence on being so calm only further sparked her irritation. Honestly, she just wanted a reaction and he wasn’t giving her one. So when he got up, stretching to his fullest height, she took a step closer, right up against his chest. “What I did just now? What was that, exactly? Get pissed off at my trainer because he’s fucking useless? Ha,” she scoffed. “I thought you wanted my emotions? Well, big news here, sunshine, but this is as deep as it gets. I am anger, and I’m anger freaking personified, okay?” Her hand came up and smacked against his chest. “Fucking… just deal with it.”

She took a step back and watched him walk back to the tree where he’d been sat. It looked like he was searching the ground for something, and she realised she’d finally worked him up enough to go for the cigarettes. It gave her a sick sort a pleasure. “Oh, brilliant. Not only are you a shitty trainer but you’re a fricking addict, as well. That’s just fantastic. My mother picked a good one, all right.”

“Number one: with all due respect, the pretty oceans came from you, didn’t it? And number two: again, if you were listening you’d remember that I asked you a question if this was all you wanted for the day. One more reason you need meditation, Rosalie. It seems you’ve got the attention span of a sparrow.” he said the words flatly, not even bothering to look at her as he got on to putting the cigarette between his lips and lighting it. They were simply words—no emotions attached to them. Sven had nearly none of those, and it was the perfect thing to use against Rosalie.

He listened to her ramble with perfect stillness and indifference—almost rude, with their difference in height he didn’t even have to look straight at her. But he listened to her, alright. It was the best thing to do rather than talk to her because it didn’t seem to be his job. Instead he focused on the smoke, holding it in for as long as he could before he took another drag.

“Been smoking since I was eighteen, miss.” he said with a wink. “But.” he paused at the word, catching the cigarette lightly between his fingers as he exhaled.

“Seems to me nicotine addiction is the better way to go when it comes to letting out frustration. Better than—oh I don’t know, torture, maybe? Mental torture? Servants and the whole parade? You may have heard that before but I digress.”Two can play this game.And Sven needed to be on top, no matter how little he cared, it was his job. He backed away a few steps.

“So, if you want to train so much fine by me. That’s all you needed to say. Let’s move up the ladder a little more, shall we?”

• ` first meetings || alice & sven

rebellious-ginger:

For a moment, Alice had no idea how to respond. At first, she thought Sven was glaring at her, but she realized he was probably just trying to process what the hell had happened in the course of those two minutes they’d first seen each other and Alice had taken the tumble into the fountain. Before she knew it, though, she was out and sitting on the edge because the prince from Norway had lifted her from the cool water and set her down without even saying a word. When he did finally speak, she just blinked at him and cleared her throat for what seemed like the umpteenth time. She ran her hands through her hair again before she took the handkerchief from him and offered another smile. Wordless still, she just looked at him. And suddenly he was warm and gentle and she relaxed, shoulders slumping. Unable to stop herself from laughing because his chuckle seemed to be contagious, she threw her head back and let out a snort. She simply stood for a moment to shake herself off and then sat down beside him. 

“M’glad I amuse ye, luv!” she teased, tilting her head to get a better look at him. She studied his eyes and found a sort of gentleness there that set her further at ease. She smiled softly in response to the warmth from his own grin. “What’re ye sorry about? M’ the one that fell into the fuckin’ fountain,” she laughed, shaking her head. “Always seem ta be makin’ a mess o’ things, me,” she admitted with a self-deprecating chuckle. 

She paused, studying him again because it was the first she’d seen of him— she’d remember a face like that.

“Are ye new here, Sven Ellestad of Norway?” she asked, lips once again quirking up into a tiny little grin.

For one, she didn’t seem like most of the royal girls here in Versailles. If he wasn’t mistaken, if this had happened to any one of them they would probably just clam up, blush the entire time, and silently demand to be taken back to the palace—in fact, to begin with none of them would have any business tiptoeing on the fountain. He liked Alice a bit already, and he felt that good natured humor and casualness would appeal to her rather than stern civility and diplomacy. He watched her wordlessly as the handkerchief was completely soaked within seconds of her using it.

“No, no, no, it’s just—” he stammered, throwing his head back for a laugh and slapping his forehead lightly. “You know it was like:oh hey there new guy, nice to finally meet you! Never mind you just broke a brick with your foot and I just fell into a fountain.”Sven didn’t know where the words and where the humor came from, but he felt relaxed—good, even. Suddenly he couldn’t remember what he was taking a walk for.

“I’m sorry. I probably should not have laughed.” he smiled apologetically, tousling his hair absentmindedly. Then he offered his hand to her for a shake.

“New, indeed. Prince, trainer. Aye.”

• when angels deserve to die | Rosalie&Sven

rosalie-vanderbilt:

Rosalie leaned away slightly as he came to a stop in front of her. Her eyes focused on his fingers trailing in the grass. She wasn’t sure what he was trying to recall about oceans. Rosalie wasn’t big on the whole dreamy-do-dah-let’s-hold-hands-and-express-our-feelings-through-song new age thing, but she did believe a person’s subconscious was a powerful thing, so it was possible what she’d experienced in her meditative state reflected something important. 

She raised an eyebrow. “A renewal of feelings,” she mimicked. “Mm… somehow I don’t think that’s me, sweetcheeks.” Rosalie smirked and leaned her chin on her fist. “I haven’t got any of those feelings, remember?”

Her lip curled slightly. “That’s it? That’s my training?” All blissed out feelings of meditation were rapidly leaching from her body. “That’s shit! What the hell do I do with an hour of meditation a day?” She was spluttering, not sure if she was enraged or nonplussed. 

Being Rosalie, she settled for the former.

Jumping up, she grabbed her back and swung it onto her shoulder. “What the hell kind of trainer are you?” She scoffed. “Meditation? Yep, that’s some great training there!” She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest.

I haven’t got any of those feelings, remember? She said. Sven only shook his head at that. “If you insist, then—you don’t. Besides, I said that was all for today, if you were listening. I thought you’d be happy about it. Gets me out of your face sooner.” he raised his eyebrows, his smile sarcastic.

And there it goes again. Just another brick in the wall.He thought to himself as he watched Rosalie’s outburst with blank eyes and a tight-lipped smile. Finally he looked up to the sky, let out a long and comfortable sigh as if he’d just woken up from a pleasant nap. Then he bounded back on his feet and stood straight, taller than Rosalie. He took a few steps backward and gestured for a few moments with his hands.

“See what you did just now, Rosalie?” he asked her, gently, almost soothing with not a hint of sarcasm. He stuffed his hands down his pockets before he continued, smiling.

“This is why you need an hour of that a day.” he said, before he turned on his feels to search for the carton of cigarettes and lighter he placed somewhere on the foot of the tree.

• when angels deserve to die | Rosalie&Sven

rosalie-vanderbilt:

Rosalie almost grinned at his startled expression. She assumed he’d just been lolling about for the entire time she’d been meditating. She couldn’t bring herself to feel her usual annoyance for him. It was like she was totally blissed out, completely chilled and not even angry in the slightest.

“An hour?” Her eyebrows rose as she considered this. “Probably why my ass is completely numb.” She grinned - an actual smile - and pushed herself off the ground, making a little circuit around the grass in an attempt to get some feeling back into her legs.

“What did I find?” She bit her lip, about to cut him down. Relaxed or not, she was still Rosalie and she didn’t trust anyone. Then she remembered he was her trainer and he probably needed to know. “It was like… like an ocean. But not blue. Well, sometimes blue. Lots of colours. It like…” She waved her hands, attempting to demonstrate. “It ebbed, from one colour to the next, and I was just… floating in it.” She looked down at the floor and folded her arms before looking up to meet his eyes again. “I feel very relaxed,” she admitted.

He crouched on the ground in front Rosalie, close enough just nottooclose, eyes cast on the ground as he shook his head with a chuckle, tracing imaginary shapes softly on the grass with his finger as he struggled to remember something.

“The ocean? That usually means… what was that again.” he had once read a book about psychological interpretations when it came to these sorts of things, and summoned his thoughts and the most he remembered about oceans. He was genuinely impressed—Rosalie seemed like the kind of person who’d have a hard time meditating and quieting thoughts and feelings, especially if they were as powerful as hers were. But from his experience he knew that when a person needed it most, this was usually the case. Rosalie needed the calm.

” It means something of a positive outlook in life, limitlessness. The ocean means tranquility—empowerment… unhindered, a renewal of feelings.” he explained, his eyes closed as he slowly puzzled the the pieces together in his words. He had no idea what that meant for Rosalie, but he hoped it would help her somehow. He raised his head and looked her in the eyes.

“You know, this is actually all I have planned for the day—so if there’s anything else you’d like to do for the day, we’re finished with step one. I just need you to do this more often—at least once a day, never below an hour.” he smiled at her.