cleolinda | Settling in

Since I posted two entries so close together--Wolverine and Public Enemies trailers are back thataway.

Still working on icons--I hadn't made any in forever, so I'm way behind. Oh, and I'd forgotten to take a decent picture of the lamesauce Cullen Crest medallion that came with The Littlest Edward (it doesn't even have a pin or a chain! I can't even hang it off the shelf or anything! WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THIS), so... there you are.

Also: As mentioned on Twilight Lexicon, apparently someone else's NECA Edward figure is having adventures as well.

Also-also: my dolls are officially more popular than I am.

So, to catch you up: Tuesday. Edward started out the day with an avid female audience who treated him like... a living, breathing personality quiz. Of course they all wanted to know which exotic flora he thought they smelled like (well, not Anna; she's been antsy ever since he got here, and at this particular moment she was back behind the printer arguing with Elizabeth, who seemed to be trying to comfort her or calm her down?), and of course having to go sniff strange women was exactly what a prim sparklepire like Edward wanted to do on his second day here.

"Something very light," he said, inhaling in Galadriel's general vicinity. "Golden? A light jasmine... or laurel."

"You mean... bay leaves? That doesn't smell anything like jasmine."

"I KNOW THAT," he said. "I'M JUST TELLING YOU."

"What about White Arwen?" I blurted out helpfully; Purple Arwen had been assigned forget-me-nots.

"Snowdrops," he said decidedly.

"Me next, me!"

"Something like cherry, but…? No, almonds. Sweet almond."

Eowyn closed her eyes and leaned over expectantly.

"Simbelmynë," he said.

That was when I shot him a look that can really only be translated as You have got to be shitting me (he even PRONOUNCED IT correctly!), and he rolled his eyes, nodding. Which was when I realized: of course he could read (hear?) possibilities running through her mind; he picked the one she valued the most.

"What does simbelmynë smell like?" I asked him later.

"I have no idea. I just didn't think she'd like 'grass and clover' very much."

"Can you read my mind?"

"No," he said, but he didn’t seem too fussed about it. "Probably because you’re not made of plastic. "

"Well… what do I smell like?"

He sighed and took a resigned whiff. "You smell like… butter cookies."

Well, I had just eaten a couple of Trefoils.

All the girls were full of questions, though--even when I tried to shoo them away to let him have "a little quiet time," someone always came back with a new one. Like Lyra:

"Have you killed anyone?"

A grim look shadowed his face. Grimfully. And shadowously. "When I was younger, I did. I went through… a teenage rebellion, I guess you’d call it. I ran away from home and gave up our way of life and… I did kill people. Every night. Sometimes in the day, too. Some nights when I can't sleep, because I can't ever sleep, I can’t stop thinking about the terrible things I did--"

"Did you kill them with your sparkle?"

"--it’s such a heavy weight on my heart, knowing that, even if there is a heaven for my kind, the crimes I have committed would never--"

"What did you kill them with?"

He stared at her a moment. I think that was the point where he decided that he should scare Lyra for her own good. Clearly, this was the decision of someone who does not know Lyra. "My teeth."

She looked skeptical, so he gave her a big sharky not-grin. Pan, at least, shivered.